Landi to LDN

2008-12-08T13:04:00.005Z

Europe

26th November - 8th December (Greece, Italy, Austria, Germany, Belgium, UK)

by Alex & Kathy

Our third and final continent was to be a brief affair. By now we had caught the scent of home, and were out of money. So we kept our visits brief, but were lucky enough to enjoy the hospitality of many friends and acquaintences along the way.

We absolutely nailed Greece, transiting the country in less than a day in time for an evening ferry to Italy. We had neither the cash nor the weather to do any justice to this part of the trip, but it was great to have a bit of a preview for any future travels in a place neither of us had spent much time.

Our first real stop, then, was Italy, having disembarked in Ancona. The era of paperwork was well and truly over, as no one was in the least bit interested in our Landi. Long live the EU. We had a fantastic drive through Umbria to Perugia, staying in a youth hostel I'd stayed in some years before. We sat in a bar with vino rosso, coffees, Guinness and free wi-fi and just marvelled at how all these things could exist under one roof.

Perugia is quite a fashionable hotspot in northern Italy, and with the cold weather we were forced to wear all of our clothes continually for days on end. Needless to say all 3 of us were feeling a little scruffy and out of place in beautiful Perugia. We'll be back wearing Armani...

Onwards to Rome, via some nice medieval towns on the way, and we had a luxurious 3 days at Alex's father's flat, eating, boozing and catching up. We also got to meet up with an old friend of Kathy's from university who had been living and working in Rome for 8 years. Good old belly laughs....

Italy was not exactly the most Landi-friendly country to drive in - as well it shouldn't be, given how old and beautiful the towns and streets are. But from Perugia to Rome to Verona we felt like an absolute GIANT on the road. Andi could gobble up 3 of those smart cars for breakfast. In Verona at one point we actually had to do a 3 point turn to do a 90 degree right turn. We took the hint and pushed on.

From Verona we crossed into Austria which was by far the coldest leg of the trip. Try driving through this in a leaky, drafty Landi!

From Austria we crossed into south western Germany, staying with the sister of a German neighbour from Mulanje, whom had some of our things in storage in their enormous barn. Although we had never met, they showed us such fantastic, warm hospitality. Apart from working during the day the couple run a 'bed and bike' station during the summer for people cycling along the Rhine. As they said the world comes to them every summer and their house is really wonderful. Recommended! www.radstation-meissenheim.de

Onwards and northwards to Frankfurt, where we caught up with friends who had previously been placed with GTZ also in Mulanje - Andi and his girlfriend Lisa and Christophe. We had a great 2 days trying local 'specialities' like hand cheese (!) and apple wine. Andi, we now know what the Musik is...

Andi the Landi was named after original German Andi (spelt with an 'i'), so it was an awesome reunion all round.

Lastly, but by no means least, we had an easy penultimate leg to Brussels to stay with my cousin Niamh and her husband Chris. I don't think I'll be able to describe the gastronomical treats that awaited us. For the first time in a long time on the morning of the 3rd day, and the last day of our trip, we felt anything but ready to leave!

It's amazing sometimes when you spend time wandering far flung places that you forget how much stuff there is right on your doorstep. We just can't wait for the next trip back to Europe - you couldn't cover it in a lifetime. It also provided handy training for life back in the UK. Alcohol tolerance was slightly improved to around 3 beers, holding a conversation with more than 1 other person, dairy reintroduced although not without difficulty, and on our final day we had been up past 11pm 4 days in a row.

Our final day was spent on motorways, ferries and in service stations. We had one last flurry of red tape, having to drive from Ramsgate to Dover in search of our final carnet stamp, but finally cruised into Peterborough late on the 8th. So the Landi hasn't quite made it to London soon, but it will, oh yes.

A massive thank you to all of you who hosted us on our last few legs. We finished our long trip home on such a high, and you must give us the chance to return the favour! Thank you also to all of you who supported the trip, in so many different ways - proper thank yous coming soon.

Over and out
Alex and Kathy
xxx

2008-11-26T12:26:00.001Z

Turkey

19th - 26th November (Kilis - Kahramanmaras - Goreme - Istanbul - Ipsala)

by Kathy

In some respects Turkey was like being back on familiar territory but in other ways things had changed since either Alex or I had visited. The main difference was the money, having conveniently dropped 6 of its zeros off the notes some years back. At the same time, however, prices had substantially increased giving us a bit of a shock. On the first night I thought I'd found budget accommodation for about 8 USD but I soon found out I was out by a factor of 10. And that was one of the cheaper options in town.

There was little time to linger and enjoy the off-cold shower of our 40 USD lodgings (most hotels use solar panels which isn't the best for November) because we had a rendez-vous in Goreme with my mum and David. The drive north from Kahramanmaras through autumnal forested mountains was really pretty, if a little baltic.

Goreme is one of the larger towns in the ancient Cappodoccia region, central Turkey and a bit of a tourist trap to say the least. We took to getting carry out beers and hanging around bus stops waiting for my mum to arrive, which is an activity I haven't done for a long time but do secretly enjoy...

When all reunited we spent a brilliant full day exploring the region, with its quite unique rock formations, dwelllings and churches. Not for the first time on the trip we explored underground cities and rock-hewn churches, these ones built by Christians from the 14th century to hide away from maurauding arabs. All quite a sight, and some of it not for the claustrophobic.

Onwards to Istanbul (and Europe) which has gone and got itself all upmarket. The souq wasn't quite the warren of streets filled with local goods for local markets that Alex and I remembered. It was endless rows of plate, tile and fabric shops aimed only at the tourist market. I didn't see many locals shopping there any more, and only 1 local tea shop for the shopkeepers hidden well away should a tourist dare to look for a local priced chai. It was not the nicest place to browse for souvenirs, where window shopping feels a bit like going into battle. We were even hilariously chased from 2 art galleries when browsing some painting, apparently not taking the 'art' seriously enough. Istanbul is no longer a place for waifs or strays to be seen...

In saying that it is still a beautiful city to walk around, with such striking landmarks as the 15th century Blue Mosque. On the day of my birthday we took a stroll down a quieter tourist market and bargained hard, and enjoyed the sights of the historical centre.

Enough now of these middle Eastern shinnigans. Onwards to Greece.

2008-11-19T07:17:00.004Z

Syria

15th - 19th November (Damascus, Crac de Chevalier, Aleppo)

By Alex

My last post (Egypt) was quite negative, so I was hoping that Syria would give me some positive experiences to write about. Thankfully, it delivered in spades. Syria was one of my favourite countries on the trip, despite only having spent 5 days here. We were stunned at how welcoming the Syrian people are. Everywhere we went people helped us find, organise and buy what we needed.

The border crossing into Syria, however, was one of our more stressful to date. The branch of the Syrian Central Bank at the border refused to accept our LAST 100 dollar bill, owing to the tiniest of tears in the top corner. This meant that we didn't have enough foreign exchange to enter Syria, and were stuck in no-man's land between Jordan and Syria. I started to have visions about camping in no-man's land waiting for something to change. After a couple of hours of negotiations, a friendly policeman (never far away) convinced the banker to take our dodgy note, and we were on our way, albeit with no forex left and no firm indication as to whether we would be able to use our VISA cards.

As soon as we arrived in the capital, Damascus, we were assisted by the wonderful Ahmed. We had been driving around aimlessly searching for a VISA cash machine, and had stopped next to a bank when Ahmed pulled up alongside and offered to assist us. Only being a week out of Egypt, we were still a little weary of offers of help from stranger, but our fears soon subsided. Ahmed proceeded to guide us around the city for an hour, eventually locating one of the few VISA cash machines, then continued the tour helping us to find a hotel. As we parted, he even gave us a gift which completely changed the way we would be able to enjoy our stay in Syria. Ahmed - we will not forget your generosity - Thank you!

Damascus may well be my favourite city that we have visisted on this trip. It has the most relaxed vibe of all the middle eastern cities, a modern vibrant feel in a city littered with ancient historical sites. It is also muc more liberal than the capitals of Syria's neighbours. Alcohol is more readily available and I saw women's hair for the first time in 3,000kms. The souq (covered market) is wonderful to explore and the Umaya mosque exquisite. I really am struggling for superlatives. Oh, and Jordanian beer is cheaper here than in Jordan.

We spent a couple of great nights in Damascus, wandering the markets, eating the best 1 dollar food to date - flat bread wrapped sesame-encrusted falafel with friend cauliflower, chips, pickles, tomatos and a cabbage and parsley salad, coasted in lemon juice and tahini. If your mouth isn't watering after reading the description then you don't deserve to eat one.

Next up, we visited an enormous hill top crusader castle, Crac de Chevalier. Leaving behind the olive groves and winter wheat in the arid south, we climbed steadily out of Damascus and entered the evergreen forests in the hills to the north of capital. Barring the narrow tropical banks of the Nile, it was the first time we had been surrounded by greenery since Ethiopia more than a month before. Crac is easily the most impressive castle I have visited - almost completely preserved, there is no need to close your eyes to be able to imagine how it once looked. There are no barriers and only a few plaques. You can wander freely around the cavernous complex of walls and towers which once housed up to 4,000 soldiers.

Our last stop in Syria was Aleppo, the northern city. Once again, as soon as we arrived in the city adn got out of the car clutching an upside down map, a passerby kindly offered to help us and spent an hour guiding us around the city helping us find parking and accommodation. Aleppo is great to wander around - there's a hill top citadel, anohter great souq to get lost in, and a bizarre christian quarter; but the notable experience was my first real taste of European winter in 2 years. Temperatures plummeted to about 5 degrees and we struggled to find enough warm/clean clothes to keep out the weather. I realised that my body had acclimatised for Malawi - for the next 2 weeks I would seriously struggle to keep warm in temperatures of around 10 degrees despite wearing numerous layers, a weather proof jacket and a beanie. I felt cold morning, noon and night, except for the brief 10 minute post-shower period, in the rare cases that we found a place with hot water.

Syria has so many things going for tourism that it's difficult to write a blog post that doesn't gush with positive comments. But the quality which stood out for me, as you may have already guessed, is the interactions with the lovely Syrian people (and the excellent falafel). I would love to visit this country again sometime, one could easily spend a week exploring Damasucs alone. But time was not our most plentiful asset - we had a date to make in Turkey, where we would take on 2 new passengers for the Journey from Asia to Europe...

2008-11-15T08:02:00.005Z

Jordan

11th - 15th November (Aqaba - Petra - Dead Sea - Jerash - Irbid)

by Kathy

Short but sweet. It was an enormous relief to leave Egypt, which was probably my most unpleasant travel experience ever. Clearly the Jordanian border staff are used to wild-eyed, half-crazed overlanders breaking free of Egypt's bureacratic extremism, as they welcomed us off the boat in Aqaba with open arms, comparatively low red tape and a sympathetic ear.

We camped just outside of Aqaba and enjoyed some snorkelling in the Red Sea the next morning. The beach was deserted and the coral gardens great to explore. I think we would have hung around a bit longer if things hadn't started to take a bit of a chilly turn weather wise.

Onward then to the long anticipated Petra! Petra is a quite spectacular hidden city built by the Nabataens, expanded by the Romans. You spend a good 20 minutes accessing the city through a steep-sided gorge, and then get lost for hours or days in the warren of small paths, rock formations and ancient streets and buildings around the city. Alex and I, in our usual speed tourist mode did some serious walking that day, bagging only a few of the most famous sights, before totally exhausted ourselves. Despite our increasing travel fatigue, not to mention calf muscle fatigue, it was one of the highlights of the entire trip.

We then headed north to the Dead Sea, finding an awesome bush camp overlooking the sea with the lights of Jerusalem on the other side, only 40km away. It is pretty difficult to get lost in the wild in Jordan however, as a truck of locals turned up late to party the night away, and then a second car turned up with a group of tourists even later into the evening. It was the most bizarre camp ever, and we woke up bleary eyed to a litany of grafitti, food waste and beer bottles strewn around us.

After this, in dire need of a cleansing experience for so many reasons, we plunged down a canyon to 500m below sea level and enjoyed a fantastic hot spring and waterfall experience, bathing in 60 degree heat water in rock pools and caves. Arriving at 8am to 'Jordan's Best Kept Secret' meant we had the place totally to ourselves, but by 10am on the weekend word had clearly got round and we escaped just in time as the hordes descended, feeling completely rejuvenated.

We then promptly undid all the good work by swimming in the Dead Sea, the world's saltiest body of water, to experience the feeling of floating high in the water. The beach and everything about it was totally grotesque. Alex loved it, I hated it. The photos speak for themselves.

Again, time was not on our side and we pushed on to Irbid in the north in preparation for crossing into Syria.

2008-11-10T18:42:00.001Z

Egypt

30th October - 10th November (Aswan, Luxor, Giza, Hurgada, Nuweiba)

by Alex

It wasn't until we disembarked our ferry boat at the Jordanian port of Aqaba, and I once again heard long forgotten common courtesies, that I realised just how much I had disliked Egypt. Tourists have been coming here for so long that the ingrained dual pricing (or state sponsored racism, in my opinion) and hassle make it a fairly tough country for the independent traveller.

Thinking back, we got of on the wrong foot from the start. The only border crossing between Sudan and Egypt is a passenger ferry along Lake Nasser, vehicles are shipped separately on river barges. The ferry boat was pleasant enough, taking 17 hours, but unfortunately Andi the Landi was lost at sea for 7 days, rather than the 36 hours for which we had prepared to be apart. This meant surviving on VERY limited supplies of clothes, underwear etc. After a few days waiting in the Egyptian port town of Aswan it became clear that we were going to be apart for some time, the barge having broken down and a tug dispatched from Egypt to fetch the stricken vessel. Kathy and I, fed up with constant hassle for boat rides, desert trips, taxis, alabaster etc decided to break out for a few days and wait for an arrival date for the car - so we took the bus to Luxor to see the temples of Karnak. This is when we discovered that traveling around Egypt as an independent is kind of like being in the Truman Show. Throughout our week long stay in southern Egypt (the terrorist bit) we continually came up against barriers whenever we tried to leave a city. The ever present Tourist police are on hand to stop foreigners from travelling on selected modes of public transport. This is ostensibly for security, but it quickly became clear that it is really a sanitisation exercise designed to fool tourists into thinking that they are not actually in Africa. We were refused access to local minibuses, but allowed to take the more expensive inter city coach (neither of which travel in the foreigners' convoy). We could take the train, but only 1st or 2nd class. Once the landi turned up we were able to drive, but only in a ridiculous convoy that travels at break neck speeds stopping only in tourist spots.

Eventually we made it to Luxor, and saw the awesomely impressive temple of Karnak. Definitely a contender for the prize of "most impressive man made thing" that we have seen on the trip. Its hard to capture the scale of the monuments and buildings, but here are some pictures anyway (Kathy included for purposes of scale - she is 5ft 8in at time of writing)

We planned to leave luxor and travel through the white desert, slipping beneath the radar of the omnipresent tourist police for a few days. Unfortunately it was not to be. At the first road block we were turned back, being told that it was too late to start the drive out from the city. This led to our most spontaneous decision of the trip so far. As we wandered back into the city of luxor, desperate to get out somehow, we found ourselves in a traffic jam of coaches. After a few minutes we worked our way to the front, and a police roadblock. "Hurgada?" yelled the policeman. We had somehow found our way into the evening convoy between Luxor and Hurgada that was in the process of setting off. The resort of Hurgada lies about 300km North East from Luxor, the opposite direction from the white desert, but it was the only way we going to leave Luxor that night, so we joined the convoy of some 300 coaches, winding through the pitch black eastern desert to the Red Sea coast, and started to rethink our Egypt action plan.

In other Egyptian news, the pyramids are really big, Sinai has been overrun by package holiday makers, and in general we were quite pleased to leave the country. The only thing I'll miss about the place is filling up all 100 litres of diesel for a tenner. The boat trip to Jordan marked my departure from Africa after 20 months unbroken on the continent, but this was no time for tears - still 2 more continents before christmas. We would have liked to simply drive into Israel, which borders the Sinai peninsula, but this would have precluded us from entering [sworn enemy] Syria. Not being able to enter Syria would mean having to drive through Iraq. With all the border politics coming into play, we could only be entering one region... The Middle East.

2008-10-29T13:33:00.000Z

Sudan

by Kathy

19th - 29th October (Metema - Gedaref - Khartoum - Meroe - Korti - Dongola - Abri - Halfa)

As we plied the road from Gondor to Metema I found myself entertaining unexpected butterflies in my stomach. I don't think I'd felt nervous approaching a country since, I dunno, some Silly-Stan in previous years, so it caught me off guard.

This was an irrational fear. I knew this because all travellers' tales of crossing Sudan regale its warm hospitality proving the highlight of every overlander's trip. I also knew it was irrational because my 'ratio-meter', Mr A F Butcher, sat beside me is only capable of measured responses to any given situation. Some things warrant feelings of fear (1) or not (0), and was clearly current ly set at 0.

Still, in saying that, the Sudanese embassies in Pretoria and Addis had made it pretty clear that they didn't like strangers around those there parts. And Sudan, previous state sponsor of terrorism and former axis of evil shortlist contender is not the greatest friend of the US and, by transferrence, the UK. This had been confirmed by the US national seen running from the Addis embassy in floods of tears. With all this in mind, how on earth would they receive us at the border?

Turns out with a nice cup of mint tea and an offer of a bed for the night to rest. The border staff were most concerned at Alex's post-Kitfo health, and so we sat at the border, drinking tea, discussing Alex, and moving on to education, politics and local infrastructure. These discussions were punctuated by the occasional stamp or perusing of papers and offers of more tea.

We sipped our tea with some post-Ethiopia suspicion. Indeed Alex opted to reject his tea outright behind the immigration building. But as the minutes ticked by we realised there was no catch. It was as if we were being hosted rather than processed; a border first. After 2 hours we prised ourselves away and finally drove off. Really, that's all you need in Sudan - time and tea.

Arriving in the first major town was equally as straightforward. A friendly motorcyclist guided us to the bank of our choice, where a friendly policeman took over the assistance. As Alex went to change money I nervously guarded the vehicle, but people merely smiled or greeted me as they went on with their day. I felt like we'd been released from some kind of siege.

As I sat there was a minor collision of a car and a minibus right in front of our Landi. I ducked down behind the wheel, waiting for the fireworks to start, but they never came. The policeman intervenced, helping the drivers negotiate, with no raised voices or tempers in sight. Everything was resolved in such a relaxed way, before Alex had had a chance to say 'Change Dollar?'.

And so the scene was set for the transit through Sudan. There was desert, driving, time and tea. Khartoum's red tape misery was offset by a loverly stay with a friend's friend Stephanie, working for IOM, who gave us the lowdown on their work in southern Sudan and more.

Northwards to the Nile, with more tea, but pyramids and ancient temples added to the mix. We learnt the true meaning of 'furtouk' (sp??), which entails being welcomed for tea and refreshments, in the villages along the way. A typical encounter may look like:

Step 1: Invited for tea through hand gestures. Tea is served, smiles exchanged

Step 2: Names, origins and marital status established through much gesturing in the absence of common language. This included audit of people present and their relationship to the home owner

Step 3: Opinions canvassed o global figures such as Barack, Bush, Brown, Blair and Beckham, and other celebrities brought to you by the letter 'B'. Opinions registered using the 'Thumbs Up/Down' mechanism e.g.

Barack = 'Thumbs Up' + smiling face

Bush = 'Thumbs Down' + sad face

Kathy & Alex abstain from any voting on Al-Bashir

Step 4: Complicated ranking system of above celebrities using hand gestures and stick in sand

Step 5: Petition of thanks and extrication

These exchanges were often as hilarious as awkward to all involved and really made the long journeys shorter. We were once asked if we thought Sudan was dangerous we laughed tea through our noses.

In saying that, Sudan's leadership is, of course, appalling, prolonging localised conflicts in the south for political gain. This topic never came up in our trip and, in any case information is tightly controlled. In the north of Sudan Al-Bashir's government is rated pretty highly (read 'Thumbs Up') as many African leaders because 1. he's been in power for a long time 2. he's built roads. By these criteria Stalin and Mao also start looking a little rosier. Anyway, it certainly wasn't the time or the place to discuss...

And enjoy Bashir's roads we did, losing the tar only in the very northern section of the Nile. This was the very highlight of the trip, as we spent 3 days weaving the 400km through villages, low on fuel and money. En route the local road contractors even took us under their wing during a tyre change, putting us up at 2 of their guesthouses along the way. Words couldn't describe the joy of a hot shower and wonderful home cooking. We came to Sudan expecting the worst food and found some of the best.

So we arrived at Halfa with 4 litres of fuel in the tank and 0.50c in our wallet. We got our ferry tickets, parked Andi on a barge and set off for Egypt.

2008-10-25T08:29:00.002Z

Ethiopia

by Alex

2nd - 19th October (Moyale - Yabello - Arba Minch - Awassa - Addis - Debre Zeit - Addis - Debre Berhan - Lalibela - Gonder)

Ethiopia - where do I begin? When asked whether we were enjoying Ethiopia whilst in the country, we typically slipped the word "rollercoaster" somewhere into the answer. I had read a number of blogs by travellers in Ethiopia, quite a mixed bag. After just 3 days in Ethopia we had had enough - we couldn't wait to leave - we were angry and fed up; but I'm happy to say that we perserved, and checking out 2.5 weeks later we will look back on our time there with some satisfaction.

For Kathy and I, having lived 2/1.5 years in southern Africa, the journey up until now had been reasonably easy, with a few obvious exceptions (er, see Tanzania...). We usually had enough of the local language (at least Kathy did), and there are more similarities than differences between the Bantu peoples of Malawi, Tanzania, Kenya etc. By contrast Ethiopians are very different bunch, and suddenly we had no common language with 80% of the people we came into contact with. Whilst East Africa was a comfortable bubble for us, Ethiopia was a culture shock.
I don't think that it's unfair to describe rural Ethiopians as 'aggresively curious' of foreigners. For much of the drive from the Kenyan border to the capital, Addis Abbaba we felt quite uncomfortable, particularly being in our own vehicle. Stopping in towns and villages along the route became something of a chore, with kids and young people crowding the windows and doors, some begging, some wanting to see what was in the vehicle, but all shouting "You! You! You!" endlessly and pointing at us. We are used to being singled out, kids from Malawi to Kenya shout "Mzungu" as we pass, but in Ethiopia it took on a whole new over zealous tone. At first we countered by mocking, shouting "YOU!" back with as much ferocity as we could muster. This soon got tiring though, and we just settled into quiet acceptance. The other major annoyance being a foreiger in Ethiopia is begging. There is a bigger culture of begging in Ethiopia than in any country I have visited, despite it being significantly better off than many of those. It was the incessant begging that got to us I think. I estimate that on average, every day 50 people would ask us for money, and after a while you realise that a lot of people view you as a walking ATM which makes you feel a lot less welcome, and sometimes angry. When walking up an alley towards some playing children, we watched the mother (standing in front of a reasonable concrete house) coach her children to say "give me money" as we walked past. We exploded at the woman sparing no expletives. She may have only known 3 words of English but she got the message. At one point I was walking along the street on my own and I heard "You! give me money!" I was tired and fed up, this must have been my hundredth "interaction" of the day, so I just showed him the bird (google it, Dad) without even turning to look. Feeling a bit ashamed I glanced back are realised I'd just flipped off a kid of about 6. Whoops.

OK. Enough about begging, and the negativity, I had to get that off my chest but now I can move on and talk about what we actaully did, which was quite a lot since we spent 2.5 weeks in Ethiopia - the longest we expect to spend in any country on this trip. There were plenty of good things about Ethiopia, although it took us a week or so to get used to being there.

Driving into the south to the country the only evidence of the famine we saw was the motel car park over brimming with UN vehicles. The country side was very pretty - rolling hills grazed by cattle and camels, beautiful birdlife everywhere. We didn't realise at this point, but it would be the most mundane landscape we would encounter in Ethiopia. If Rwanda is the land of 1000 hills, then Ethiopia is the land of 10000 mountains. We spent a pleasant night in the Nechisar National Park. We bush camped on top of a hill between two sweeping valleys, an incredible view. I woke in the night to the sound of hundreds of hooves shuffling past both sides of the tent. A huge heard of zebra was moving down to the lake shore for a midnight drink (to avoid the now drowsy crocs I suppose) and moved right around our tent and landy.

The zebra in this park are known for herding over 100 in number. I couldn't tell you how many there were just then however, I was scared that if I took a peek I would startle them into stampeding over our tent!

Addis abba leaves all the previous african capitals in the dust. At 7million people, it is big, vibrant and colourful. It is also extremely noisy. I'm already used to being woken up at 5am by wailing imans calling the faithful to prayer, but in Addis the Ethiopian Orthodox christian priests don't just call the faithful to prayer, they broadcast the whole ceremony over their public address system. You can see this in 2 ways: either it turns all of addis into one giant prayer meeting, or it encourages laziness - why get out of bed and go to church when church comes to you.
Our time in Addis was marred by The Horror. These are the words I will use to remember our days wasted at the sudanese embassy in Addis. I don't want to delve too deep into this one, but in summary the embassy was the most unpleasant beaucratic experience of my life. I can only summise that Sudan maintains such a dreadful mission abroad to filter only those souls who really want/need to go there. I hope to soon forgot the week we spent coming and going, caling copying waitng and paying. Luckily I have a memory like a seive....

The highlight of our time in Addis was meeting up with another Link colleague, Michael Ambetchew. He and his wife took us to Asqual, an Ethiopian restaurant in Addis probably a little orientated towards tourists, although patronised mostly by ethiopias. We watched and heard traditional song and dance, drank honey wine and shared a single huge plated of delicious ethiopian food. It was a lovely night - Kathy and I made a mess of everything that we even looked at - not being hugely experienced at eating using Ethiopian bread (injera) as the only utensil. I'm sure we provided entertainment for our hosts...

On from Addis we visited the spectacular rock hewn churches of Lalibela. Dating back centuries, these buildings are quite something to behold. I think I was more taken from a civil engineering point of view than a cultural one, but that's me. The area obviously receives a lot of tourists, and correspondingly we found moving around much easier than in other similarly rural areas of ethiopia.

Our final drive in Ethiopia took us along a fabulous mountain road with breathtaking views to the east and west. Our final destination was Gonder, hailed as Africa's Camelot. We had a great couple of days relaxing and eating some great ethiopian food. I was so relaxed in fact that I let my cullinary guard right down and ate some Kifto - a kind of raw minced meat. Mistake. Oh well, it was bound to happn sooneror later...

By the last week in Ethiopia, we were really enjoying our time there. We met some lovely people, and saw some great things. Funny to think how negative were our opinions 2 weeks previously. Onwards and downwards (topographically speaking) to Sudan, the true home of beaurocracy.

2008-10-25T07:06:00.004Z

Kenya

by Kathy

27th Sep – 2nd October (Malaba – Eldoret – Lake Nakuru – Nanyuki – Isiolo – Marsabit – Moyale)

Kenya was the very first country I visited outside of Europe and the US in university holidays in 1997, when I was 19. I remember getting off the plane in quite a haze and being the victim of a bit of a heist within minutes, being whisked off to the taxi driver’s brother’s so-called ‘safari firm’. It was probably the luckiest scam ever, as we ended up in the Masai Mara game reserve completely unplanned and enjoyed a fabulous, if rather, erm, budget, safari.

I also remember being rather overpowered by Nairobi’s sights and smells, accidentally sleeping in brothels, saying ‘Jambo’ inanely to little children who then tried to pinch the sunglasses off my face. I remember the endless but stunning journey out to Mombasa by local bus and the beautiful sight of the Indian Ocean. The whole trip made quite an impression and I remember it in some detail unlike any other trip since.

I was quite excited, then, by the prospect of a return trip to Kenya, a wee bittie older and, ideally, a bit wiser to see what had changed. Alex was equally as excited to visit a country where his parents had lived some 30 years previously. And as if to add to this frenzy of excitement we had picked up a couple of ‘Landi to LDN’ exclusive guests, Robbie and Jessy who live and work in Silicone Valley, CA, for the first leg, helping to completely revitalise our tired chat, music collection and even future business planning.

I guess the weirdest change entering Kenya this time was being able to communicate. Despite a few teething problems similar to Tanzania (saying once again that our journey had been a great big red salty sausage) I soon got back into the flow. The other major observation, compared to Tanzania, Uganda and Malawi was the sheer amount of industry and commerce at a local level. Even very small trading centres had all sorts of goods and services and major towns indicated on the map were just that (unlike western Tanzania)! Our first port of call, Eldoret, was such a huge sprawling industrial centre it would dwarf Malawi’s national capital. I don’t know if that marks a change or not; I read that Kenya had recently fallen off the EU’s ‘Developing Nation’ list, whatever that means. But you do get the feeling that Kenya has usually been one step ahead of its neighbours, at least from an economic development point of view. And nice as it was to communicate in Swahili it wasn’t really all that necessary. On our first morning I stopped to greet two women running our guesthouse and they replied with great gusto, only to return to their conversation, I soon realised, in English.

In saying that the driving still wasn’t particularly straightforward, getting caught once again after dark on a partially constructed road to Nakuru. Once we finally arrived there after 9pm there was momentary panic to find Jessy and Robbie a transfer to Nairobi that night, in time for their early morning flight!

Once resolved Alex and I literally passed out at the first guesthouse, waking early to enter Nakuru National Park. The park itself was really stunning, with an enormous amount of wildlife in quite a small area, centred around saltwater Lake Nakuru. The stars of the show were the huge pelicans that circled like arial bombers and the flamingos as far as the eye could see.

After Nakuru Alex and I kept to back dirt roads to weave across country to avoid Nairobi and take in the sight of Mount Kenya. We seemed to cross the equator 5 times in a few hours, each crossing duly marked with a Fuji Film or other sign and a curio shop. Without GPS we couldn’t really verify that we were indeed making another crossing or simply witnessing quite wily business acumen.

From Nanyuki we started north through Isiolo and on to Marsabit. At Isiolo the tar finished and it was an almost entirely Muslim town, which we entered on the eve of Eid. It was really an enormous shift in such a small space of time. It marked the end of eastern Africa with its overlapping languages and cultures and the start of northern Africa & Arabia….We then, at 11am, threw ourselves onto the Isiolo – Marsabit – Moyale desert road, which slowly sapped our energy, water supplies and spare parts.

Alex and I have been driving on all sorts of roads and in all sorts of conditions since we left the UK and are generally pretty happy off-road. I don’t think, however, we’d ever driven on such pronounced corrugation through such heat for such a long period. We swapped driving strictly every 1 hour to keep refreshed and our speed up, and it was a long, long couple of days. Yet the sights on the way were amazing! Huge herds of camels, cattle and small animals like dik-dik constantly appeared and disappeared. Masai people were everywhere on the southern section of the road, walking huge distances in such heat. In the northern section the Berber people replaced the Masai, still with camels and cattle a-plenty.

Anyway, several punctures, new shocks and about 14 hours driving later, we finally approached Ethiopia. At one of the final outposts in Kenya one Berber lady spotted me and said ‘Faranji!’ and thrust her hand through the car window looking for some money. I guess at this point we sadly waved goodbye to wonderful, relaxed Kenya and approached Ethiopia with some apprehension.

2008-09-27T07:33:00.000Z

Uganda

By Alex

18 - 27th September (Mgahinga - Bunyoni - Kampala - Jinja)

After the most pleasant border crossing to date, our spirits were high as we cruised into southwest Uganda heading for Mgahinga national park. The park borders 2 other national parks in Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, all countries doing there best to capitalise on mountain gorillas that inhabit the rainforest covered volcanoes. Unfortunately for us a chance to track gorillas was not on the cards owing to the 500 USD per person per hour price tag. I calculated aloud that it is 1000 times more costly than climbing Mt Killimanjaro, which was met with stonely silence from the Aussie tourists we met in the park who had forked out for both activities. Way to make friends Alex. Perhaps we should have taken out a loan - the price is set to rise again to 1000 USD two months from now.

We spent a day hiking through the rain forest along the DRC border, stepping around countless piles of fresh dung left by the buffalo and elephant (mountain, not savannah) that roam the forest by night. Needless to say though, we didn't see a single one. At one point our guide started to pick up bamboo shoots and told us that they had very recently been eaten by gorillas. All of a sudden the gorilla tracks were all around us, and it became clear that we were very close to a gorilla group, with a chance that we may stumble across them and get a free look! We came upon the trackers that are sent out early in the morning to locate the habituated gorilla group for the richer tourists, waiting on the path just a hundred metres from the gorilla group. To say we were excited about a chace glimpse of the gorillas would be a pretty serious understatement. We weren't allowed to step of the path to take a peek though, as this would have constituted 'illegal tracking' we were told. I guess its fair enough considering we had paid a piddly fee for our guided walk. I was pretty excited just to know that we were so close to these rare creatures.

Our second day we spent with a birding expert tracking the spectacular endemic bird Ruwenzouri Touraco. There, I've said it, its out. I have become a bit of a twitcher out here. Its hard not too really with so many amazing colourful birds to be seen everywhere. You'd have to be blind not to take even a small interest. The touraco is really quite something, about the size of a raven with bright blue and scarlet wings, a green and blue body and red and yellow head.

WARNING: The following paragraph is graphic and appears here largely for Kathy and I to have a permament record of the event. Read only if you are not squeemish.

The last event of note that took place in the park was the discovery that both kathy and I had flea egg sacks growing in our toes. The Jiggers, as they are known, burrow in betweeen the outer layers of skin on one of your toes and start to grow a sack of eggs that will eventually hatch a lovely litter of fleas. Removal was thankfully a simple surgical procedure, the campsite manager used a pin to open up the skin and squeeze out the egg sack. I have photos but will leave them out for the benefit of any children that are reading this blog.

On from Mganhinga we headed to Lake Bunyoni for some relaxation time. We headed first to the Lonely Planet recommendation only to find 3 huge overland trucks full of germans abd brits already there. Driving along the bay we found a lovely campsite where we were the only people staying. It was quickly becoming clear that we were rejoining the popular east african overlanding routes after our time off the beaten track in deepest darkest western tanzania. Notably we met our first Land Rover overlander, a Brit called Ben on a year long trip from Morrocco to Morrocco down the west and up the east, running marathons and climbing mountains on the way (http://www.afritrex.com/). It was great to have someone else to share our observations on overlanding in a landi. We decided to drive to Kampala the next day in convey. All of the next day I was whistling the convoy song from smokey and the bandit. Con-voy!

In Kampala I spent a day with a mechanic replacing some suspension bushes that had worn out due to driving with the blown shock absorber (see Tanzania post). Andi the landi also got a new set of shock absorbers. When out buying parts, I got to experience the worst traffic Jam I have ever seen. Truly, Kapala traffic is a complete mess. Street vendors make their way through the jam selling this and that. One man offered a basket holding small tied up banana leaf pouches and curiosity got the better of me. "They are flying ants" the mechanic told me. Now I had already eaten flying ants, (more correctly the reproductive cycle of a termite) in Malawi where they are dry fried with salt. Very tasty and a great source of protein apparently. I decided to buy 2 packets, one for myself and one as a thank you to my mechanic. I was half way through the small pouch and busy describing the differences between these and the termites eaten in Malawi, when I noticed that one of my snacks was moving. I looked closer at what I was shovelling into my mouth and realised that about half of them were still alive. This became the most significant difference between Ugandan and Malawian termite snacks. I stopped chewing and watched the termites deciding what to do next. At this point I felt one squirm in my mouth. I came to the conclusion that it was better to finish the snack so that these termites had not died in vain.

After Kampala we headed east to Jinja on the shores of Lake Victoria. Hailed as the adrenelin capital of east africa, Jinja is the source of the River Nile, which makes for some awesome white water rafting. Rapids are graded on a 6 point scale. In Europe and the states novice rafters have to walk around anything over a 4... not so in Uganda :) We rafted, floated and swam for about 35kms down the nile taking in 4 grade 5 rapids in the process. This was seriously good fun. Its pretty difficlt to describe with words the feelings you have as your raft approaches the rapids, invisible until the last minute, hidden by the initial water fall drop. The sound of the churning water gets the heart pumping. There was lots of falling out, and a few sprained shoulders, but no lasting damage.

On reflection, Uganda was my favourite country on the trip so far. The people really are special, and there are some great things to see and do. On our penultimate day in Kampala, we stopped at the tiny wooden stall of a vegetable seller to stock up for the road. The woman wouldn't let us pay for anything and it actually became difficult to leave, as she just kept on finding a different fruit or vegetable to try to give us as a gift. At the time I was actually a bit uncomfortable as I had never had to deal with this sort of generosity - I guess I was embarassed because I thought of all the people she sells to in a day, I should probably be paying. Afterwards though, Kathy pointed out that it was clearly making her happy to give us these gifts, so we right to accept them, which I guess makes sense. I decided to write her a thank you letter, which I dropped in the next morning, and only just got away without accepting even more vegetables! By this time our stocks were overflowing!

Onwards to kenya.

2008-09-18T07:36:00.003Z

Rwanda

12^th – 18^th September (Kayonza - Kigali - Kibuye - Nyungwe - Kigali - Uganda)

by Kathy

So yes, they call it the ‘Land of a Thousand Hills’. We very quickly discovered the practical implications of this when we were caught on the back foot entering Rwanda a day early, but very late in the afternoon. As soon as the light faded a thick fog descended and the hairpin bends became increasingly hairy. On top of this we were acclimatising to a new set of road rules and conduct. Some were formalised, like driving on the right. Others, less formal, seemed to have no rhyme nor reason, nor indeed any consistency, like endlessly flashing of headlights, driving on any side of the road (in the face of oncoming traffic or obvious road hazard or not) and seemingly totally random movements by pedestrians and drivers alike. The two years of learning the language of Malawian and Tanzanian road use was pretty much out the window.

So too was our pooled collection of languages. We thought having passable Swahili, French and English between us we should be sorted for communication. Not so! In fact none of these languages is widely spoken in rural Rwanda. Furthermore, the French taught in schools in Rwanda differs from the French we learnt at school, or in France, or Senegal for that matter. It reminded me, in rural areas, of talking to English teachers in China, who took up to 10 minutes to communicate what they did for a living, in such heavily intonated English it was really only intelligible to each other.

And so after a comical first few hours negotiating the surprisingly large contrast across borders, navigation, communication and progress ground to a halt short of Kigali. We entered the small truck stop town of Kayonza at 9pm, cold, bedraggled and bewildered, hand-gesturing our way to some average food and a flea-pit of a hotel.

Luckily, this first day in Rwanda was the only real low-point! The next morning our spirits lifted, as had the fog, and we pushed on to Kigali with glorious views and weather, spurred by Nico’s assurances of crêpes, hot chocolates, omelettes, baguettes and a good selection of cheeses. True enough by 11am we were nailing various combinations of the above in downtown Kigali. ‘Splurge!’ set the tone of the weekend really, with beer, rum, football, bars, good food, seedy nightclubs and massage parlours being enjoyed in aggregate, but not by all individuals, of the group.

With Nico nearing the end of his 3 week stint he was keen to make the most of his time in Rwanda, so we set off on a near circumnavigation of the country, which takes a lot less time than it sounds. First we headed off to Kibuye, on Lake Kivu in the west and, in the spirit of not doing things by half, opted to take a dirt track following the shores of the lake south, rewarded by really quite stunning views. Once again we underestimated time and dark rudely fell long before we had planned for it, so we ended up seeking accommodation in a secondary school somewhere on the road. Busy time for the school, as we arrived during some event that seemed to be celebrating the gift of a cow (much speculation here) and it was the eve of Rwanda’s parliamentary elections, with many schools acting as polling stations. Nevertheless the school kindly put us up in their guesthouse, although it was still a rather bizarre evening all round.

Onward the next day to Nyungwe Forest National Park, via more spectacular coastline and then tea plantations, for the first time since we left Mulanje. The park itself is stunning montane on steep hills, making for tough walking. We opted not to do any of the high cost chimp or monkey related activities but instead did a nature walk with a tree-expert guide. He clearly loved his trees that man. I can’t say I can remember any of the local language or latin names of any of those trees that day, or many of their various medicinal uses, but they were certainly the stars of the show in Nyungwe Forest, the 150 ft mahogany trees crowing the top of the forest canopy.

We then completed the circuit back to Kigali in time for Nico’s flight on the 16^th. He looked thoroughly exhausted as we dropped him off and inn dire need of a holiday. Indeed I myself fell into a 36-hour coma in a hotel room as, in fact, we had not had one full day’s rest for 3 weeks. Overlanding is really a full time job.

Alex and I spent two very pleasant remaining days recovering in Kigali. Our guesthouse was at the back of a local buffet restaurant that pulled a monumentally sized lunchtime crowd. From 6am 50 litre buckets full of tomatoes, onions, garlic and potatoes were chopped and prepared, opening for business around 11am. Increasingly large streams then rivers of customers poured through the place until around 3pm, loading up EU sized mountains of sauces, meats, bananas, chips and vegetables on their plates. We reckoned this tiny 10m x 10m space had a total of 2000 customers every day. Quite a feat. And the food was damn good for about £1.

Onwards and upwards. We finally left Kigali northwards bound for Uganda.

PS I later realised that I wrote this entire blog without reference to Rwanda’s painful recent past - the events surrounding the genocide of July 1994. There is certainly no lack of reminders as you pass through the country; genocide monuments and flowered cemeteries are dotted throughout. People do not necessarily shy away from the subject as conversations flow. There is apparently an excellent museum in memory of those who suffered at the hands of the Interhamwe in the town of Butare, south of the capital, which we didn’t manage to visit. But I guess those memories we’ll take away of Rwanda as it is today will be of a proud, if quite reserved people, in a forward-looking country clearly on the move. People were well-dressed, transport safe and efficient, infrastructure worked, rural areas were buzzing. Perhaps it’s more helpful to take away a snapshot of the present, or a glimpse of the future, than to fascinate on Rwanda’s past. And I think in this regard Rwanda took us all a little by surprise.

2008-09-17T08:55:00.012Z

Tanzania

1st - 11th September

by Alex

Since leaving Malawi, we have spent most of our time in Western Tanzania, off the beaten tourist route. We decided to skip the better known eastern route through the country, which takes in Zanzibar, Dar es Salam and the Serengeti, and opted instead for something a bit different. We almost bit off more than we could chew....

The plan was to visit the extremely remote national park of Mahale Mountains, on the shores of Africa's second largest lake, Tanganyika. The object was to track wild habituated chimpanzees (ie they're happy to let people watch them), in a park covered by pristine montane forest, on the sandy shores of the lake. The guide makes it sound idyllic, and so we started planning. The main catch is access. The only way to reach the park is by $3000 charter airplane, or steam ship on the lake. Needless to say the flight was not an option, and the steamship is currently busy ferrying refugees back to the DR Congo. We enquired about driving with the park management, and were told that theoretically, it was possible. The lake side villages are served by local boat taxis, as they are 150kms west of the nearest maintained Tanzanian road, but we were told that tracks did exist winding through the mountains and streams that could eventually get us close to the national park, from a point where we could hire a boat for the last 20kms into the park (since the park has no roads).

And so began toughest drive I'm certain any of us have ever faced. It took us about 5 hours to cover the 80km stretch of reasonable track, the only obstacle of note being a fallen tree, which we towed off the road. After this start, we were optimistic, but as the terrain became more mountainous, and the path more difficult to follow, we began to realise that we wouldn't make it that night. Every local villager we asked would say another 30 minutes (this continued for some hours). We eventually realised that there is no point asking for distance or time estimates.

We enlisted the help of a guide as the light started to fade, but unfortunately his 50kg rice sack proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Although in this case the camel is the land rover, and its back a shock absorber. The loud pop as it blew a cupful of high pressure oil out of its seal sent us all into our thoughts. We had to chuck out the guide and go back to our somewhat blind attempts to make it to the Lake. Eventually we gave up and camped at the house of a what appeared to be an 18 year old with 2 wives and about 8 children. An odd experience for all involved.

On the second day, the terrain became a lot more difficult, we crossed several streams which have evidently seen no vehicle traffic for a long time. The land rover was constantly bashed by branches and scraped by thorn bush. We had to use our shovel to make one of the dry stream beds passable, even then, it took 5 people to help push the landy up - I would guess the slope was about 45 degree.

So was it worth it? Since it's Alex writing this blog, I have to say yes, because I loved the challenging driving, and it was amazing to see what a 4x4 is capable of traversing. When we finally arrived at the park, the slightly surprised park manager said that since he had worked at the park, only 5 tourists had arrived by vehicle. "That makes us numbers 6, 7 and 8 then?" asked Kathy, "No. 3, 4 and 5" came the reply. The real treat, of course, was to track the chimpanzees in the forest the next day. We spent about an hour walking to find the group of habituated chimps - the trackers go out early in the morning to locate them. Once we found them, we weren't sure what to expect, perhaps watching from a distance, a photo here or there, but what happened was a surprise to all of use. For about an hour, a group of between 5 and 15 chimps played around, even showing off at times! It was amazing to be right in the middle of these animals as they fought, swung in the trees, groomed and ate. As we were about to move off, our hour complete, one of the chimps found a machete that a tracker had absent mindedly dropped. The chimp kissed the cold blade and shouted to his family to come and see the strange object. It was amazing to watch - I thought back to the opening scene of Space 2001, when the apes create fire and find the first monolith. The chimps all gathered around and cautiously touched the knife and recoiled back in shock.

After we left the park, we decided to split into two groups - Nico and I would get the Land Rover back across the 150kms of track and then onto the city of Kigoma, about 300kms north on the lake. Kathy would take the local boat taxi straight to Kigoma, saving 2 days (we thought) to try and source a new shock absorber and find a mechanic. It was an extremely hair brained scheme, hatched whilst on a (fruitless) chimp trek on our final morning in the park. Within 2 hours of planning it, before any of us really registered what was happening, Kathy was being transferred mid lake from our tiny speedboat into the lake taxi! We waved goodbye, and I wandered how her journey would be. As it turned out, her boat would take 24 hours to reach Kigoma. That's 24 hours on a tiny 40ft wooden boat completely overloaded with rice, maize and 300 people. No toilet, no food and a litre of water. Kathy, I'm not sure how you did it, but my hat is still off.

The rest of the trip through Tanzania was enjoyable, but hard work. Nico and Kathy got to chat away in Swahili once again after 4 years away from Tanzania, and met up with an old friend from times gone by (below at our 5am start...), and I was introduced to the joy of the "egg chop", a kind of reverse scotch egg. We have decided to take things a bit easier in Rwanda....

2008-09-02T07:41:00.001Z

Malawi

20^th August – 1^st September

by Kathy

Funny, it’s those things that make life a little hard working in Malawi that makes it such a wonderful country to travel in. It no longer really does matter if we arrive tomorrow, or if certain planned events fail to take place, or if the smiles only last a day or two. It also, slightly cynically, doesn’t matter what people really do think of 3 strange white tourists in a flash car perhaps with more gadgets than sense, as Malawians are remarkably good at hiding their true sentiments, more so than anywhere else I’ve been in Africa. Again, tough for consensus building in an office situation, bleeding marvellous for tourists. When you’re a tourist you get the best of Malawi, because the welcome is always incredible in the warm heart of Africa where you are greeted and aided with such enthusiasm and generosity of spirit.

It wasn’t long before this warmth enveloped us once more when we were relaxed enough to let it. It had been a hard last few weeks! Some furtive last minute shopping in crazy overland shopping emporiums in South Africa for gadgetry I never knew existed was proceeded by a tough 28 hour bus trip back to Malawi. There is probably enough material from this bus trip from hell for another blog, but the long of the short of it was that Alex and I ended up exhausted, with less luggage than when we departed and some freaky flu cold virus thing that ensured we were bed-ridden for 4 days.

I probably won’t dwell on how we managed to pack up a house, leave a job, hand over a project and pack and customise an ageing Landi but we did, in 5 days rather than 10. Our departure date wasn’t really up for debate either as Nico was flying into Lilongwe on the 29^th August. However, luck seemed to be on our side in the end as everything came together. We packed up the house and sold or transferred our furniture. The Landi got some major surgery with a new clutch, turbo, injectors, bushes, fan belt and spotlights. Shelves were fitted, windows tinted, burglar bars and locks installed. Alex did a crash Landi mechanics course to boot. Then as our departure date arrived without us even really realising it was time for farewells to our work colleagues and friends.
Alex gives the windows the
presidential look

Farewell to Mulanje District Education Office

Painting roof with 'flu

The sense of freedom as we left was fantastic. We drove out of Mulanje on Monday 25^th August with renewed appreciation for the beautiful place that we had called home for 20 months, thegood friends we had made and we were not without feelings of achievement and satisfaction. Then we hit the beach.

Mount Mulanje as we left

First stop was Domwe Island, off Cape Maclear on the southern part of the lake. The islands here were a firm favourite destination and Domwe, the cheaper ‘self-catering’ option, is really a little piece of paradise where you camp overlooking the lake, drinking cold beer whilst the lodge staff go about organising fresh fish for your dinner. Alex and I sat and reflected over the last couple of years and it really began to hit home that a new chapter was beginning.

Sunset from Domwe Island

3 days later we were in Lilongwe welcoming Nico to the first leg of the trip. Nico really helped us push the envelope socially, coaching us to stay up past 9pm through his injection of now legendary wit and banter. More days unwinding by the beach at Chinteche and Usisye (which gave the Landi a taste of what was to come) and it was finally virgin territory for all of us.

Nico nails kayaking, Usisye

Our main stop in our first foray into northern Malawi was Livingstonia, famed missionary established in the 19^th century. Turns out Livingstone wasn’t even there for very long, it was some blokey called Dr Lawes who did all the groundwork, but Livingstone still managed to get his name on it for basically passing through. You might as well rename Glasgow Prestwick ‘Elvis International Airport’ while you are at it. In any case, Livingstonia was a beautiful, chilled stop with breathtaking views to wake up to. But by this time we were all a little restless given the prospect of what was to come. Tanzania ‘off the beaten track’. Sounds awesome, right?

Livingstonia Falls

2008-07-27T06:18:00.003Z

The Route Home

2008-07-26T07:06:00.001Z

We're coming back home!

At the moment, the plan is to set off from Malawi around 27th August. We've just posted our approximate itinerary for the 3 1/2 month trip:

2008-05-21T15:15:00.000Z

Overdue update on fundraising

Thank you all very much for sponsoring my cycle ride. Apologies for taking so long to update you all and say thank you for your support. I had a good excuse for the first few months (waiting for gift aid and credit card charge conformations etc) but it has now been a very long time, so sorry for that. The final total of money actually usable by the charities is... [drum roll]

£3019

This is freakishly close to the original target of 3k, so either it was a well chosen target, or else I should I have set the target higher to keep the money flooding in. The charities that are to benefit from this money in equal portions are Link Community Development (www.lcd.org.uk) and World Land Trust (www.worldlandtrust.org).

That journey seems a long time ago now, the next step will be the drive back to the UK. Kathy and I have just bought a Land Rover - we will be leaving Malawi in September and hope to arrive back in the UK for Christmas this year - I'll be posting updates here soon.

Once again thanks for your support, and apologies for the time delay in getting this information out.

Alex

2007-08-26T08:56:00.001Z

Malawi to South Africa Overland

Two months have past since I completed my cycle ride and arrived in Malawi, so an update is long overdue. That’s not say that there hasn’t been a wealth of activity from which to draw a blog post, just that I’ve been pretty consistently busy. In this post there’s something for everyone: adrenaline filled encounters with the law, a moderately impressive road trip, and my usual dose of exaggeration that makes it all worth reading...

Mulanje

Malawian life is enjoyable, as long as you have time. When trying to get things done within a timeframe, it sometimes feels as though the whole country is conspiring against your misplaced haste. Take for example my recent efforts to electrify our new office in Mulanje. Past experiences with electricians have flowed something like this:

1. Pick first sparky in the yellow pages.
2. Phone to explain the job, sparky gives estimate and we arrange time to do the work.
3. Sparky arrives and does the work.
4. I pay up, he leaves.

In Malawi, this process needs to be altered to take into account the fact that the electrician doesn’t have any transport, tools or money for materials. My experience was more like this:

Day 1
1. Ask around, get phone numbers for 3 electricians.
2. Get ‘persuaded’ to use friend of a friend, call to get quote.
3. Drive to collect sparky to assess the job.
4. Drive sparky to market to find out cost of materials.
5. Drive sparky home, arrange date for work to be carried.
Day 2
1. Collect sparky from home, drive to market.
2. Pay for materials myself.
3. Drive sparky to friends house to borrow his tools
4. Drive sparky to office, he does work
5. Pay and drive sparky home.

South Africa

I barely had enough time to learn to greet people in Chichewa before being asked to come to South Africa (where I still am). Admittedly I had a month, but the language is utterly different to anything I’ve had to learn before, and I still make the locals laugh when I attempt to say hello. I received a job offer to work for Link, essentially as an IT consultant. Funny how computers seem to chase you wherever you go... Since I’m trying my darndest not to fly in a big atmosphere-munching jet, I opted to drive down to JoBerg from Malawi, as there was a Link vehicle with a soon to expire import permit that needed to be returned to SA. If I had had any idea what condition the car was in before I took delivery of it in Mulanje, I would certainly have made other plans. The wing mirror was held on with brown packing tape. The clutch just didn’t work. There were no front brake pads. The list goes on. This car may have had a 4x4 sticker on the back, but it was designed for that very specific 4x4 niche of driving tiny children 1 mile down the road to a private school.

I intended to complete the journey in 3 days, passing through Mozambique and Zimbabwe. Before the first day was over, I had already written off the 2 front tyres and various parts of the front suspension by hitting a monumentally huge pot hole. It was helped by the fact that the car’s front dampers had been destroyed on Malawi’s dirt tracks, so the front the car bounced in and out of adjoining pot holes. The other problem being that Malawian tarmac roads are excellent (bearing no relation to the shocking state of the dirt roads), but as soon as one crosses the border into Mozambique, the sealed surface is pocked with age old scars testifying to years, probably decades of neglect. So anyway, I hit one of these potholes, which, to my credit, was hidden at the crest of a hill as I’m driving westwards into the dipping sun. Any notion of wheel alignment that existed previously on this much battered car was completely destroyed – looking from the front of the car, the wonky wheels made me think of a severely cross-eyed goggle-spectacled child. I replaced the most seriously damaged tyre with the spare and limped back down the road (metaphorically) to the border crossing, with the steering wheel at a rather unnerving 60 degrees just to drive straight, all the way the front wheels screeching at me for holding them in a permanent skid just to stay on the road. An hour or so later, after watching the wheel alignment being fixed using a piece a string and a lot of guesswork, I was back on the road, with 1 tyre close to exploding and still 200kms to cover before reaching the nearest town from which I could buy tyres. Needless to say I drove very cautiously from here on.

Arriving in Tete, I encountered that fantastic Mozambican generosity that made me write so lovingly about the country last time I travelled through on the way north. Seeking directions I accosted the first person I saw, who duly abandoned what he was doing, jumped into the passenger seat and spent the next hour guiding me around the city and interpreting to help me track down the tyres I needed to continue my journey. I really love Mozambique. Maybe it’s the laid back Mediterranean influence of its old Portuguese colonial master that makes the people so friendly here. I can’t be a coincidence that Mozambique has a similar ambiance to Brazil in some respects. I can’t help thinking that 16 years of civil war also has a role to play – those that are left are grateful for peace. I spent the best part of 2 days driving through Mozambique - I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it, and made lots of people laugh with my not-quite-enough-to-get-by Portuguese.

ZimGabe

Day 3 was where the real action was to start. The drive through Zimbabwe. There really isn’t a feasible way to drive from Malawi to Johannesburg without entering Zimbabwe at some point, unless you want to take the better part of a week. I was both excited and nervous about the prospect of entering this failed country. Zimbabwean inflation is rumoured locally to have hit 4000%, making daily money changing a necessity to be able to afford goods. Unlike when I crossed the border into Mozambique, where I had a rough idea of the exchange rate and so felt happy changing money on the black market (my basic nokia phone even has a currency conversion utility), with Zim I had no idea what that days crazy exchange rate would be, so felt fairly confident that I would be ripped off and hand over $40 only to receive 90,000 Zim dollars, enough to buy a orange perhaps. The Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe branch at the border offers a rate roughly 1/60th that of the black market rate, meaning had I used it, I might have paid about $40 for a coke, which some people probably do in London, but I wasn’t going to do it here.

By this point, the car was starting to fall to bit’s. The juddering clutch had shaken free a wad of exhaust paste, so the car now sounded like something out of wacky racers. The clutch was verging on the unusable. The suspension was so badly damaged that I was restricted to 90km/h for safety. If I was to avoid changing money, I would need to get the car through Zimbabwe without another unscheduled mechanic stop. The other worry, of course, was fuel; which doesn’t exist in Zimbabwe outside of the cities. I formulated a plan. Topping up with fuel as close to the Zim border as I could, and filling my 20L jerry can too, I decided to try and make it through the 580kms of Zimbabwe without having to spend any money or buy fuel. Unfortunately, the closest I can find fuel in Mozambique turned out to be 100kms from the border, which meant I had a range of about 700kms of fuel to cover about 570kms. That is cutting it a bit fine if you ask me. If I got lost or had to detour for a mechanic, I could be in serious trouble.

That night I couldn’t stop thinking about travelling through Zim and the sheer number of things that could go wrong. Meeting dad at the airport the following day in Johannesburg, I couldn’t afford to lose another day travelling to SA. I woke at 4, worried, and was unable to get back to sleep, so got up washed and drove to the border to cross as soon as it opened and get this country behind me. The border crossing was surprisingly easy, although at about $75 not cheap. Clearing the border in about 20 minutes, I was filled with fresh confidence that perhaps this country wouldn’t be so bad after all. And then I got arrested. The first road block, not 5kms from the border stopped me and asked for my insurance. In my morning stupor and nerves, I had mistaken the 2 amounts I had paid at the border for a temporary import permit and insurance, which is quite normal. What I hadn’t realised was that one of those amounts was for a carbon tax. I thought I was riding high on environmental karma recently, but I was clearly wrong. I had been warned that all the road blocks would be looking for a bribe, and sure enough, after threats of impounding the vehicle for 2 days, the officer agreed to sell me an arrest slip which meant that I couldn’t be arrested again in Zimbabwe for the same offence. I decided not to give the rest of the Zimbabwean police a reason to exact a bribe, and headed back to the border to buy insurance, furious with myself for screwing up, but at the same time slightly excited at having bribed my first official.

The rest of the road blocks (about 8) all asked for money. They start by asking for your licence and car details, but will drop the request and let you through quicker if you give them something. Fortunately for me, they ask it in a round about way such that I can play the fool. "eesh, its so hot. Can’t you give us a drink?" is police speak, I soon found out, for give us money for a drink. I was carrying a whole crate of mineral water for the journey, so at each round bloc I just reached behind seat on hearing this and passed over a bottle of sun warmed Malawian water. Sometimes the police were annoyed, quite often they laughed, but I managed to get through the country without paying any more money.

I had enough fuel, the car didn’t break down, and I managed to make it through Zimbabwe that day; with just a bunch of bananas and a huge bag of peanuts for breakfast and lunch. Turning up at the South African border I discovered that the export permit for the car had been lost. I was threatened with a second arrest that day. After a lot of batting of my long eyelashes (still not sure who I inherited those from), I managed to persuade the border official that the car was completely worthless, (I offered to sell it to her for 20 quid if she covered my onward journey), and so not a major import/export violation. She stamped my border card and I was home free. More or less.

And Finally

I’m now working in Limpopo, in the northern part of South Africa. It’s an interesting IT project, with scope for rollout in Malawi and Uganda too. I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to overland to Uganda, but I’ll certainly have a think about it!

Alex

2007-07-24T14:24:00.000Z

And Finally

I was too quick to judge my cell phone repair engineers it seems (see previous post). Despite their shakey start they managed to somehow resurrect my phone, although the microphone isn't working very well. I haven't been able to write anything about the journey since I first arrived in Mozambique - 4 weeks on there's a lot of catching up to do, so I'll try and keep to the highlights.

Time for a Break

It turned out that the food poisoning I got on my first day in Mozambique knocked my body for six more than I realised. After a day and a night of being ill I pushed on the very next morning which was a mistake. My improved fitness levels gave me a false confidence in my body's ability to fight the bug (which came from drinking untreated water I think, whoops). For the following 3 days I failed to meet my modest target distances despite the excellent flat tar roads in the south of the country. On the third day I realised that I needed to stop for more than just a night, and recharge the batteries properly. Fortunately by this point I had reached the tropical beach paradise resort of Tofo, near Inhambane on the South Eastern corner of Mozambiqus. It was strange camping for 3 days amongst western tourists, all of them young backpackers. For the first time in 2 months I more or less blended in with my surroundings (there were even other enlightened men with beards). People didn't stare at me or my bike, or approach me to ask me what I was doing. Despite the sudden disappearance of the communication barrier, this temporary break in my celebrity status left me feeling a little lonely. Fortunately I was able to offset this by embarking on an intensive program of scuba diving. I've never been a big fan of beach holidays, so you might wonder why I decided to spend a month cycling through a country with over 2000kms of coastline where 70% of the population lives within 20kms of the ocean. The excellent off shore reefs for diving and snorkeling is certainly one good reason. The situation in Zimbabwe leaving no real alternative route through to Malawi is another. As you may know I've kept aquariums for a while and I've always had a fascination with fish, so scuba diving in the Bazarruto National Park was like wondering around the world's largest aquarium shop, and if I hadn't had to grip breathing apparatus between my teeth I'm pretty sure I would have been swimming around with my mouth wide open in awe of some of the creatures I was swimming with. I had some fantastic diving in mozambique, without pictures its difficult to describe, but I saw manta rays, turtles and giant moray eels to name a few. I'm hoping to have some pictures soon.

Shared Transport

Since finishing the freedom trail I've been a little less strict about cycling every last kilometre to Malawi, opting to take shared transport at times. Rather than feeling like a cheat, these welcome breaks in the cycling have turned out to be a lot of fun. Accepting help from others was a nice reminder that more often than not things have a way of working out OK. I hitched a lift sitting on top of a pile of tyres on an articulated lorry trailer (which broke down for 3 hours after we'd travelled just 5kms), had my bike strapped to the roof of a heavily over loaded, tiny passenger ferry, and piled my equipment into a sailing dhow among sacks of rice. Each time I've had a lift of some kind has been a mini adventure in its own way.

Gorongoza

After leaving Mozambique's beautiful coast at the end of the tourist trail in Vilankulos, I headed inland to central Mozambique. This area was the headquarters of the Government Frelimo army during the country's extensive civil war, and the surrounding area still bears the scars of fierce fighting 16 years on. Towns in this region still have 20%-30% of buildings standing derelict and many of the rest are in a shocking state of disrepair - roofs blown in, never to be repaired. Flags fly proudly in rural villages, and survivors of land mine explosions sitting by the roadside are a grim reminder that the area was extensively mined, and it is still advisable to stick to the road. Despite these things, the people have been some of the kindest and most generous I have met since setting off.

Cycling in the foothills of the 2000m mount Gorongoza massif was a pleasant change from the low lying topography of southern Mozambique. The Gorongoza National Park was once home to the continent's highest density of animals of any park or reserve, but suffered extensive poaching during the war years to feed soldiers and locals. Drives through the park with 40 sightings of lions were common, but spotting big game is far from guaranteed now. The park is currently undergoing a huge redevelopment program. I was one of just 3 tourists camping in the park, where 300 people are working everyday to restore the park to its former glory.

I also visited a forestry project in Gorongoza that is encouraging local farmers to plant and tend trees as a way to diversify their income (eg by growing mangoes) and receive a cash income from the carbon sequestered in the process. It is a fascinating project model being run by a privately owned company, Envirotrade, rather than an NGO, but having sustainable development goals at its heart. Since I've been fundraising in part for the World Land Trust (a registered charity) it was interesting to get an incite into a forestry carbon offset project. Thanks are due to Dr Morais for putting me in touch (and for rescuing me from Pomene!), and to Casey Ryan for taking the time to explain the project to me.

Uzungu, uzungu, uzungu!

From Gorongoza I crossed the Zambezi River by ferry and entered my final Mozambiquan province, Zambezia. This area suffered extensive flooding last year, making the international news. The World Food Program and UNICEF tents are still here, though most of peoples' houses seem to be largely reconstructed now. As with the recent hurricane that swept through Vilankulos on the coast, the thatch and woven huts weather the storm much better than brick buildings, whose tin roofs are the first casualties of high winds. This area is densely vegetated too, so building materials are abundant.

The last three days of riding from the Zambezi River to Malawi were actually some of my favourite from the whole trip. The river crossing had been built up in my head as the final milestone before finishing the ride, and in those last few days I knew in the back of my head that I would complete the journey. On the first day I cycled through villages without road access, following the Zambezi and its tributaries North towards Malawi . The people in this area speak Chichewe, the national language of Malawi, and even accept Malawian Kwacha. The only word I undertood at the time was "uzungu" which is a non-derogatory term for a white foreigner. Passing a group of young children in a village one of them spotted me and started to repeat the word over and over, "uzungu, uzungu, uzungu!". As the other kids turned and noticed me they joined his rhythmic chanting, and stared straight at me as I cycled towards them. I was reminded of an Indiana Jones like scene, about to be boiled up for dinner by a bunch of 8 year olds, and the whole thing made me chuckle. Since I didn't speak any other words of Chichewe, I just joined in their chanting at the top of my voice "uzungu, uzungu!" This they absolutely loved. Stares cracked into smiles, and as I passed the clearing where they had sat the whole group of about 10 kids jumped up and ran after me on my bike now shouting "uzungu!" Like a kind of pedaling pied piper I rode on through the village and witnessed first hand the bush telephone in action. As we passed more kids, so they joined my band and on we went Malawi bound.

They followed me for about 2 kilometres, until the mountain I had been skirting on my right ran directly into the river I had been keeping to my left, signalling the end of the path. A friendly passer by tried to explain to me that the path continued on the otherside of the rock cliffs, but at first I thought he was implying that we would have to swim around the cliffs to regain the path. Just then I heard a blast of water spray and glanced to the river to see a hippo. The swimming option suddenly disappeared from the table. My friendly passer by helped me dismantle my equipment and climb over the rocks to the path on the other side, where I said goodbye to my band of followers.

Arriving soaking wet in the pouring pain at Megaza that evening, I didn't fancy pitching my tent and asked around to find somewhere dry for the night. I ended up in the most basic accommodation I have ever experienced. For a quid in Megaza I got an 8ft square dirt floor covered with a tin roof. And that's it. No furniture in the room, no electricity, no lighting, no water, no toilet or sanitation of any kind. But it was dry inside and that's all I was concerned with. Asking for somewhere to wash, I was led to the village well where my guide raised pails of stream water and poured them over me standing naked but for my cycling shorts. I put my rain jacket on over my cycling shorts and wandered back through the market full of laughing locals. I didn't really care though, I was clean(er) and by this point used the effect of arriving in an isolated place as "The only Uzungu in the village." Once you accept that everyone will stare at you it's not too bad, it does at least mean you can stare back - a people watcher's paradise. I often play the staring game in these situations, picking the oldest most responsible looking adults who should really know better, and staring each of them out in turn.

4 Months later, Malawi

It was not the quickest way to travel betweenLondon and Malawi, but it was a lot of fun. Kathy had arranged a series of suprises for my arrival, almost all of which I managed to thwart by arriving 3 hours late. The plan had been for me to travel as far as the border crossing on the penultimate day, and cross the next morning. However, due to unseasonal heavy rains the road I had intended to take from Megaza to the border had been turned into a mud bath. My phone also succumbed to the water so I couldn't keep in touch as I franticaly tried to pedal an alternative longer route to the border. Whilst Kathy's pool team buddy ensured a pain free passage through immigration into Malawi, I arrived too late for the primary school kids to sing me a welcoming song. Concerned about my total lack of communication, Kathy came to the border and somehow wandered into Mozambique where she spotted me about to cross from the comfort of a bar. The reunion was all the sweeter for having a table of beers at the ready.

And Finally

I cycled 4464kms from Cape Town to Malawi. It's been pretty epic and I won't forget the experience in a hurry. Perhaps less permanent are the effects on my body. I lost well over a stone and my resting heart rate dropped 12bpm to 50. I don't think I've ever been this skinny. After stopping cycling my metabolism went into overdrive (starvation mode apparently) and for the first week I was eating about twice as much as I did whilst on the ride. Those that know me already know that I've never been shy at the dinner table, but this was something else, kind of like Tom Hanks in Castaway when he is rescued and just eats everything he sees. Beer has made a welcome return to my diet, and is helping me add back those layers of winter warning fat (winter in Mulanje is about 20 degrees). Chewing my way through about 4000 calories a day was a pleasant way to spend my first week in Malawi.

A finally thanks is due to everyone that supported me personally on this journey, and to those that sponsored the cause - thank you very much - you'll all get Christmas cards. I thought about listing names in the style of film credits, but I'm paranoid that I'll miss someone else, so a blanket thanks will have to suffice until I get a chance to thank everyone personally.

Since arriving in Malawi I've been thrown straight into working full time with Kathy on various Link projects in Mulanje, in particular preparing the new Link office here. I've seen a lot of mountains over the last few months, but Mulanje mountain is quite spectacular, hopefully we'll get a chance to climb it soon. It's a beautiful area surrounded by lush green tea plantations and gum forests, and I have no doubt it'll be easy to call this place home for a while. I've enjoyed writing the blog so I'll keep posting for those that are interested to know what we're getting up to out here.

Alex

2007-07-12T11:32:00.000Z

I Have Arrived!

I am writing this from Mulanje, Malawi. Against the odds (mainly serious unseasonal rains) I have managed to complete the last phase of my journey. I realise the blog has fallen a little quiet recently, but this is not to say that there hasn't been a whole heap of action to report on - I've been up against some pretty serious technology challenges recently, which have prevented me posting. Fist of all, my phone finally succumbed to the rigours of the journey and was claimed by tropical rains in Mozambique. Unfortunately I did have a blog post prepared which I have now lost (along with my journal and all my photographs for the past 3 weeks). I have dropped the phone into Mulanje's 'Cellphone Repair Centre' but I'm not holding my breath. I had to show the sole technician how to plug the phone into the charger and then watched as he tried to remove the battery by banging the phone against his hand. Oh dear. Kathy has had the house telephone line connected, but the line was stolen (for copper presumably) back in May, and the telephone company haven't replaced it yet. I am writing this from a stationary shop computer terminal, but I'm hoping to get a chance to prepare a proper post over the weekend, so watch this space.

Bye for now,

Alex

2007-06-18T08:01:00.000Z

Mozambique

Hang on a minute! What happened there? Last time I wrote I was a couple of days from completing the Freedom Trail, the solo offroad ride across South Africa. I am pleased to say that I have now completed this. However the blog has fallen behind, and I am now in Mozambique, having already ridden through the rest of South Africa and Swaziland. I had a series of long tough days cycling through the rest of South Africa and then lost cell reception abruptly, so I haven't been able to update the blog for a while. Let me bring you up to date...

The end(s) of the Freedom Trail

I rode into Pietermaritzburg on Sunday, the end of the Freedom Trail, on my own and to a tangible lack of fanfare. The kitchen in the guesthouse where I was booked in was closed for the weekend, so I walked 2km to the mall and celebrated bachelor style with a pint of Guiness and a takeaway pizza eaten in a fastfood restaurant doorway. Forgive me, I'm painting a somewhat drab picture of the end of the trail, which doesn't really do the experience justice at all.

There were actually 2 earlier points during the day when I considered that the trail had ended. The first came at about 9am that day. I spent the night on a private nature reserve at the top of a 1750m peak, although when I arrived the previous evening the peak was above the cloud level, so I had no idea about the spectacular view that awaited me in the morning. Setting off after a relaxed breakfast, I ascended the final 50m to the peak, and looking out for the first time to the East, saw the Indian Ocean. The ocean must have been about 100km away, but it was a fantastically clear morning, and there it was, the Eastern coast of South Africa. I would spend much of the day riding tar roads into Pietermaritzburg, and the sense of being on the trail faded away. The city hit me suddenly when I encountered the first traffic light I had seen in 5 weeks, and somewhat symbolically it was red. Being forced to stop in my tracks by some unseen computer somewhere marked the second point at which I felt that the trail really had come to an end.

The Freedom Trail in Numbers

I know that I will look back at my time on the freedom trail fondly for years to come, it has generated a lot memories that will stick, and I've met some wonderful people. It's difficult to sum up the experience in a few words, although if you've been following the blog you will have a reasonable idea already, so I've decided instead to sum it up in numbers.

INFINITE number of expletives muttered under my breath (OK, sometimes shouted), usually whilst climbing hills or realising that I have another puncture.

3001m maximum elevation reached, although not actually part of the trail

2432kms of Mountain Biking

100kms of tar road in total

50 punctures fixed

15 kgs of luggage carried on my back

10 hours of servicing required on my bike on completion

5 inner tubes written off

4 languages in which I learnt to greet passers by

3 times I was set to give up as soon as I regained cell reception.

3 offers of marriage (all pre-beard)

2 Tyres ripped COMPLETELY to shreds

2kms of trail skipped when i got a lift (The Day it Snowed). And no, you can't have your sponsorship money back.

0 times I felt unsafe

Open letter to Freedom Challenge Competitors

If you're one of the people that's been following the blog because you are competing in either the Freedom Challenge, or the whole Extreme Triathlon this year, then firstly, good luck. The best advice I can give regarding the Freedom Trail, is that I found it to be far more a mental challenge than a physical one. With that in mind, the following things helped me complete the trail:

Remember to look behind you - often the tough climbs absorb your attention, but the motivation you need is waiting in the valley behind.

Take the time to stop and repair your bike during the day. I found that jumping gears or a rattling chain could sap my motivation slowly, but took only minutes to fix.

You will experience a variety of qualities of food. Carry toilet paper. Lots of toilet paper.

Talk to your hosts. I often found that the tensions of a bad day would melt away with an indepth conversation about cattle farming or South African crime (topic of national preoccupation). Obviously this will be difficult if you crawl into the farm at 1am and want to leave at 6.

Stay positive. Losing your temper doesn't get you any less lost. And unless you've done the trail before, or are riding with someone else that has, you will definitely get lost. Many times.

Your backside will take a pounding the likes of which mere words cannot prepare you for. You have been warned.

What happened next?

The end of the trail also marks the beginning of the final phase of my journey, to cycle (rather than mountain bike offroad) and camp my way to Malawi. I had a day of rest in Pietermaritzburg, which turned into a frantic race to collect my camping equipment from the post office, pick up bits of missing kit and food, and get my bike serviced. The latter turned into something of a marathon task - I dropped my bike in to the workshop at 930 and pitched up at 1630 to collect it, but it took until 1900 to finish the work. The kind guys at Hattons Cycles stayed behind to finish the job, long after the door closed, so that I could leave in the morning. Thanks guys!

With the addition of about 20kgs of camping equipment, panniers and food, my bike felt noticeably heavier despite the transition to tar roads, and the fact that mechanically, the bike has probably never been in better condition. I have been on the road for 11 days now, stopping in Greytown, Tegula Ferry (highest mortality rate from TB in South Africa apparently), Dundee, Vryheid, Pongola, Big Bend [Swaziland], Mbluzi, Marracuenne [Mozambique], Macia and xai-xai. I've heard that there have been some route suggestions on the Freedom Trail website, but unfortunately I can't view it on my phone (David: pocket PC friendly version please ;), if you've got any suggestions, then either email me (alex.butcher at gmail.com) or post a comment on the blog. So far It's going well, although I've discovered that light weight camping equipment is about as useful as a T shirt once the night time temperatures fall below about 10, which happened every night until Swaziland. My emergency blanket was promoted to regular sleeping bag wrapper, and I slept in all my clothes. Things could be worse though, on the whole I'm enjoying the freedom of picking my own route, and the challenge of increasing the daily target distance. I have a couple of 180km days coming up. My legs are getting used to the additional weight now, and with the excellent flat tar roads in Mozambique I don't see it being too much of a problem.

Swaziland

The lonely planet sums up perfectly the effect of crossing into Swaziland:

"Free of the baggage of crime and racial animosity (past or present) endured by South Africa, you can feel the undercurrents of tension fade away almost as you cross the border"

I very much enjoyed my 4 day stay in Swaziland. The highlight was riding through the Hlane Royal National Park. I'm a big fan of locally sourced food, and I hate food going to waste, so when I saw some sugar cane fall off the back of a lorry (honest guv. No, really) I was pleased as punch. Peeling it with my leatherman and taking a big bite, I glanced across the road and saw a big baboon that had had the same idea. Only, being 100 million years behind me on the evolutionary timeline, it was using a swiss army knife. I looked across to my left and finally saw a herd of buffalo, the animals that I had come so close to in South Africa but failed to spot. Well they saw it never rains but it pours, there must have been 30 around the dam about 200 metres from me.

Food logistics Swaziland style. I'd like to think that this shack hides an escalator to a 1000sq ft basement office area where hundreds of clerks man switch boards and direct millions of tons of food around southern africa. It actually shelters a guy selling cashew nuts.

Mozambique (so far)

I had visions of reaching the capital, Maputo, being another milestone on the journey. Emerging from the interior of southern Africa, I would race across the flat land of Mozambique on the same day i crossed the border, throw down my bike on the white sand and plunge head first into 25 degree tropical waters, so marking the completion of travelling from the west coast of Africa to the east. The reality has been somewhat different. I entered Maputo using the hard shoulder of the Estrada Nacional 4 toll road, which is pretty similar to the M25. I had no intention of navigating this capital on my bike in fading daylight, so I headed north up the coast aiming for the first resort hoping to camp on a beach. After 140kms, including a border crossing, my legs had had enough, and I settled for the first campsite I saw, notably not on the coast. I got food poisoning as my 'Welcome to Mozambique' present. Being ill away from home is bad enough, but vomiting all night when camping is even worse. Enough said about that I think.

Paul E gave me an excellent portuguese phrase book before I left, which has come in handy many times already. It is, however geared to a stay in Portugal rather than one of it's 3rd world colonies. I have found a couple of missing entries:

Senhor, please deal with this stray cat before I throw it at the wall

Is this agricultural stream water really safe to drink?

Sorry about all the vomit around the campsite

And Finally

Well that's enough for this week. Sorry this blog has been a long time coming, but I had no internet access for a while. Thanks to my brother for somehow getting me connected to vodacom mozambique from tech-central in Balham, London. There have been a couple of late comers to the sponsorship page this week, i see, and we are tantalisingly close to the target of 3k, so if you were holding off because you didn't think I'd make it and you know that just giving won't give your money back, then you no longer have anything to worry about, I have done it. Everything else now is just a bonus.

Bye for now

2007-06-04T19:19:00.001Z

Back to Mountain Biking

Just in case you thought I had turned into some kind of rad snow bum, I am actually still mountain biking out here. After my not so restful rest day, I entered the final week of the trail via South Africa's highest road pass, Naude's nek.

The foot of the pass

The 600m climb was on a fairly good surface road, which deteriorated on the other side. Nearing the top I was overtaken by the only vehicle I saw on the pass - a police truck. Five minutes later I overtook the same police vehicle on the way down using the verge of the 1 lane pass.

The er, head of the pass. Still pretty cold at 2500m

Leaving Rhodes with it's skiing resort and helicopters, and descending into Vuvu was like taking a trip back in time. As I travelled over the grass plateau I passed several horse mounted shepherds and cowherds (?) watching over their animals which grazed on communally owned land. They ranged in age from about 11 upwards. Descending from the plateau on heavily worn cattle tracks that had created smooth funnels in the red earth, I emerged in a completely different world from the relative modernity of Rhodes. The village at the foot of the hill was without electicity, there were no vehicles and no generators. The first thing that struck me was the mix of sounds that came from the 60 or so mud huts and rondavels. From my vantage point on the hill 100m away it felt as though I could hear everything that was going on in the village. The well spaced plots had no dividing fences or bushes to muffle the noises of village life, and the air was filled the sounds with cowbells, kids playing and women singing.

I spent the next 3 days riding through this area, Matatiele, and for 2 of those days I was accompanied by a local guide. I wasn't 100% sure why I needed a guide for this section of the trail, but the reason soon became clear. There are only a handful of marked vehicle tracks on the map, and the freedom trail takes many of the unmarked informal paths and cattle tracks that snake through the middle of villages and fields. I don't think I saw any road signs for 3 days. Thankfully my guide, Tsepu, grew up in this area and works as a hiking trail guide in the surrounding Drakensberg escarpment, and seemed to know his way around the rabbit warren of cattle paths and vehicle tracks.

Three of next four days I would stay at accommodation without electricity, the first night in Vuvu being the most basic. Tsepu and I shared half of a hut, a rough partition dividing our space from that of a teacher from the local school. My candle lit dinner for one consisted of steamed bread and chicken. It was simple yet tasty, which was fortunate, for I would eat the same meal for breakfast and lunch too.

The Vuvu junior secondary school was certainly the most impressive building in the village, being built from fired bricks, and having solar electricity for lighting. Link Community Development works with this school, and in the morning I had a look around. The facilities available in the School are quite basic, but the backdrop of the playground was pretty spectacular. Looking around the administration block, I was struck by the fact that they have 2 teachers assigned to their HIV/Aids work for a school of 400 primary aged children. I guess I just naively hoped these smiling kids would somehow be isolated from the horrendous infection rates in this part of rural South Africa.

Ntskeni

After Matatiele, I spent 2 days riding in the Ntskeni nature reserve. The area is characterised by marsh and grassland, but took on a strange post apocolyptic look in the wake of a recent unchecked bush fire that has left much of the area a blackened wasteland. In the morning I climbed up to the ridge line below the 2150m peak of Ntskeni itself and the view was simply breathtaking. I've come to expect not to see signs of human activity in the nature reserves, but the combination of the steep mountainous landscape and morning mist was stunning.

I got pretty lost trying to pick my way down the steep ridge, and strayed into a forestry area. Attempting to find a road to the foot of the mountain, I crossed a fallen tree that had been dragged across the track, and startled two men and four dogs sitting just across the path from me. I said hello and reached for my map to try and orientate myself, but no sooner had I opened my mouth they jumped up and ran away as if they had seen a ghost. I don't think it was the beard, but I can't be sure. The lodge manager of the previous night had told me about farmers from the nearby village of kwahoha cutting the fences of the reserve to illegally graze their cattle on the fertile nature reserve grassland. I suspect I must have disturbed some of these farmers.

And Finally

Well there were some sensible suggestions as to what is wrong with this house, but nobody got what I was aiming for. Usually if windows of an old house are bricked up then you see new bricks plugging the holes in old bricks, but this building is built with modern kiln fired bricks, but the windows are plugged with local stone and concrete. Weird no? I'm sorry if you were hoping for something funny...

There hasn't been much change in my finger tip situation, in that i still have pins and needles in the tips when I touch anything. If i don't regain feeling in my fingers soon I am going to sue The Freedom Challenge. David the trail organiser told me to be prepared for temperatures ranging from +35 to -5, but when I arrived at the farm on 'The Day It Snowed' the thermometer clearly showed -6, a low for which I was completely unprepared.

Apologies are due to many of you - thank you so much for all the emails I have received over the last couple of weeks, but with the lack of power and cell reception I have fallen behind in answering them, but I hope to catch up over the next week.

With only a couple of days left of the Freedom Trail to ride, my thoughts have already begun to turn towards the next and final phase of this journey, the haul to Malawi. I will try and think of something meaningful to say before then, to sum up the last 5 weeks.

Until then, reader.

2007-06-04T19:16:00.000Z

Conditional Sponsorship

-----Original Message-----
From: Andrew Earnshaw
Date: Fri, 11 May 2007 08:42:00 +0100
Subject: Sponsorship - Conditional £100
To: Alex Butcher

Hi Alex,
Been watching you blog avidly. Well done mate. Best news is that
you've recovered.
On the sponsorship note. I am willing to stump up £100 on the
condition that you publish a picture in your blog with you pulling a
face like a pig and giving the camera the finger.
Otherwise it will only be £50.

Cheers
Andy Earnshaw

In response

Andy, I think You'll agree I have mastered my pig impression since my UBS days.

2007-05-27T22:01:00.000Z

Enjoying the snow

I've been cycling through the Drakensberg mountains for the last few days, and my arrival has marked another dramatic change to my surroundings. The slopes are covered with grassland, and the snow capped peaks are even more dramatic. This mountain range is characterised by steep escarpments, the contours on the map are so close that they appear to merge together like a kind of mountain barcode.

The snow seems to have stopped falling, but at this altitude much of it remains, particularly on the South facing slopes. I've spent most of the last few days riding at around the 2000m level - the air is noticealy thinner and the temperature varies greatly with sun and shade. The days start below freezing, but gradually warm up to the low teens.

I wasn't able to go snowboarding last Christmas, which was pretty gutting, so imagine my glee when Kathy pointed out that my next rest day was at the nearest town to South Africa's main ski resort, Tiffindell. With the improvement to my fitness, I've started to become a little complacent about rest days, and besides, I've only been on the road 3 days since my last rest day, so I decided to pay a visit to the resort just to have a look around. I had no intention of snow boarding, you understand, I'm here to cycle. Not snow board. So of course, once I say the 50cm deep snow I couldn't resist and rented a board, just to see if I could remember how.

The resort is tiny. It makes Glen Coe look like the entire three valleys area in the Alps. There is one nursery slope and two grown up slopes, which I shared with a dozen other people. This is South Africa's only serious resort at which one may come and stay, rent equipment etc. As you can imagine, it is a somewhat exclusive haunt. The workers' football pitch just below the snow line is in no condition for a game as it is home to 3 helicopters of current guests. The cost of using the facilities is similar to a day in any of the alpine resorts, so considering purchasing power, (let alone the fact that most alpine resorts have about 200 times more piste), I would say that makes it many times as expensive to the locals. I should probably have felt a pang of guilt as I handed over a few hundred Rand for the day, but to be honest it felt as though I'd been temporarily transported out of the Eastern Cape, and it wasn't until later that I even considered the hypocrisy of raising money in part for educating some of the poorest people in this country, but taking a day out from the challenge to relax with the wealthiest. Ho hum.

It felt so good to be back on snow with the correct equipment (board rather than bike) that i had some fantastic albeit short runs, and started gaining confidence. After about 30 minutes I fell and strained my neck, nothing too serious. Now I've done about 6 weeks of snow boarding in my life and that has somehow generated 2 visits to casualty, resulting in 3 months in plaster the first time and 3 months of physio the second time. As I sat there on the snow massaging my sore neck, I decided to quit whilst I was just about ahead and handed in my rental equipment, save the snow boots. All was not lost, however, as the resort is nestled up against the slopes of Ben Mac Duhi, the highest peak in the Cape. At 3001m it is only a short hike from the resort (2700m). I'm used to going downhill at this altitude, and this was the first time I'd hiked at over 2000m. I started slowly, but actually found it got noticeably easier as I went up. Can any mountaineering nut explain this? This peak is the highest I will ascend on this journey, and I took a moment at the top to consider that I was standing 3 vertical kilometres higher than when I set off from the beach in Cape Town one moth earlier. From the top the views into Lesotho 20km away were stunning. Here's a timed photo of me looking away from the camera and towards Lesotho to protect those viewers sensitive to unruly facial hair.

By 2 o'clock on my rest day I had already been snowboarding and gone for a cold mountain hike, so I decided to spend the rest of the day in my heated bed to compensate. Which reminds me - I still have pins and needles in my finger tips from 'The Day It Snowed', and very little sense of touch. Can anyone tell me how long it takes to grow new nerve endings or whatever? Any doctors out there? May?

And Finally

What's wrong with this building? Answers on a comment please.

I had hoped to be able to update the map on the right with my up to the minute position streaming real-time from my GPS, but that has proved a bit much for my phone to handle, and sadly the map has fallen behind. I haven't been able to view it myself yet, but Andre has kindly put together a map of my route which sounds much more advanced map than my simplistic effort, so please check it out and let me know how it looks. Thanks Andre!

http://maps.google.com/AlexButcher/

I harp on about sponsorship every week, so this week I will stay quiet. Except to say that I am compiling my first ever christmas card list based on the names on the just giving page...

2007-05-22T10:17:00.000Z

The day it snowed

PG: Parental Guidance
If you are one of my parents, then you are advised to skip down the page to the 'And Finally' section, as this post contains some material that you my find worrying.

South Africa is in Africa right? The land of lions in the streets, elephants in your vegetable patch and red hazy African sunsets. Nowhere in my geography textbook did it say anything about snow. A cold front has been moving up from Cape Town over the last few days, and successive farmers have warned me that cold weather was approaching. I didn't take their advice too seriously, as the Karoo farmers seem to think anything less than 30 counts as a cold snap. Change was definitely in the air, however, and on my last day of riding across the plains I picked up a serious force 5 head wind which whipped up a dust storm at one point.

As a prelude to the story I'm about to tell, I just want to point out that I do have some fairly sedate days of riding, and some even more sedate rest days. It's not a life threatening adventure everyday, but this would be a pretty boring blog if just recounted each day as it happens, so without further ado, here's another epic day for you...

Yesterday's ride took me up a horse track ascending the Aasvoelberg mountain from 1400m (elevation of the farm at which i slept) to 2200m. I didn't have directions at the start of the day, but the arrangement was that once up the mountain, I would have cell phone reception and the directions would be waiting for me in my email, and there was only 1 track up the mountain. Sounded easy enough I thought. The farmer told me I needed to ascend to the top to cross over into the neighbouring land, so off I trotted. There was already a strong wind blowing as i left the farm and by 930 it started to rain, and the surface turned into a mud bath. My tires soon clogged with mud and I had to push. So sticky was the stuff, however, that after a hundred metres I couldn't push as the mud had clogged everything. I felt as though i was swimming in treacle, each cycling shoe weighing an extra kilo from the mud. I was feeling in high spirits after a run of pleasant riding days, so this didn't do much to dampen my spirits, i just declogged my tires with a stick and headed cross country, pushing across the low shrubs to avoid the mud. About 20% of the track was rideable due to the freezing rain, which was now coming down heavily, and the mud. So I pushed my way steadily up to 2180m where I got cell reception and discovered I should have crossed the ridge 200m below. And then I got a puncture. Next the cloud descended reducing the visibility to about 100m. As i sat down to change my tube it began to snow. It was so much bad luck in such a short space of time, I half expected the rock I was sitting on to morph into Jeremy Beadle, and for a helicopter to whisk us into the You've Been Framed studio, but it was not going to be that easy. It took me nearly half an hour to change my inner tube as my hands were frozen. My cycling gloves had gotten soaked in the rain, and I was down to latex surgical gloves. I'm not sure what the temperature was, but I sucked some juice through the exposed tube into my backpack and was reminded that I have sensitive teeth. The simplest operations become painstakingly difficult when you lose the use of opposeable thumbs. I had to use my leatherman with both hands to remove the rubber cable boot from my V brakes. If that sentence doesn't mean anything to you, then It's kind of like using an electric hedge trimmer to open a packet of crisps. Whilst inflating the new tube, my pump seized up with puncture sealant from the tube. The tire was only up to a poor 15psi, but there was no way I was going to dismantle the pump and clear the blockage whilst exposed on mountain face, so I continued with a half inflated tire for the rest of the day and hoped that i wouldn't get a pinch flat as that was my last spare tube. By this point it was about 1530, and I had travelled less than 10km from the farm I slept at the previous night. I still felt fairly happy about things though. I've learnt not to get too stressed about the onset of night, provided you're on a road. Once the sun sets, It's not really that bad out here in the sticks with no cars or people to compete with. But I was still some way from a road.

Whenever you hear a story about hiking in the wilderness, there's always that phrase hidden somewhere "be prepared because the conditions on the mountain can change suddenly." Well that's what happened next. The wind picked up and the snow became a heavy fall, but I was prepared equipment wise, and felt warm (except for my hands). I wasn't prepared for how difficult the navigation would become. Within half an hour the farm tracks by which I was trying to descend the mountain started disappearing beneath the snow, and the visibility afforded little chance to orientate with my surroundings. And, you guessed it, the GPS batteries started to die. Thankfully I just about had cell phone reception, and by calling David with my GPS position a couple of times I was able to orientate myself (OK, David was able to orientate me). It was in these moments when I stopped and waited for David to calculate my position that I realised how cold it was. My speech had become slow and slurred because my face was so cold, and I had ice on my beard (having a beard really helps in cold weather though). Whilst I waited for him to ring me back, I seriously considered getting out my emergency equipment and trying to find shelter to weather the storm, but I was somewhere nearby a farm, apparently, and the lure of tea and a fire was strong. I had been scared to leave the farm tracks because they were all I had to orientate by in the snow, but I finally abandoned faith in the tracks and just headed straight down the ridge, which turned out to be the right decision.

By the time i made it off the ridge the sun had set completely and the moon was obscured by snow clouds, and once again I was dependant on my head torch for navigation. There wasn't enough snow to get the snowboard out, but enough to make things difficult for me. My bike was operating at about 20% - the wheel rims were frozen, so virtually no brakes, the freehub was frozen so for every turn of the pedals I lost a quarter rotation in slippage, and the gears had frozen, although thankfully in a moderately useful gear.

It's funny but I was never overly worried about the situation. I think that had this episode occurred a couple of weeks earlier, I would have been a nervous gibbering wreck and just collapsed somewhere and cried. The biggest change has been to my health. After 3 weeks on the trail, I now feel about as fit as I've ever been. I'm consuming a huge amount of food everyday (for a change) and throughout the pushing and snow and navigation problems, I never felt as though my body or energy levels would be the weak point. The worst case scenario would be that I abandoned my disfunctional bike and hiked down the hill to the nearest farm, which I felt that I would have energy to do.

I took a wrong turn and instead of hitting the public road, I found myself in a crop field. I could see faint lights off in the distance, and decided they might be coming from a farmhouse, so I started to push my bike across the muddy field. Just then, by chance I turned back and saw the angel. The light descended slowly from high up on a ridge, and became 2 headlights as it neared. I flashed my headtorch and headed straight for the pickup. As it came level with me on the other side of the field, I started to shout, and it stopped. But then just as suddenly it moved off again and my heart sank. I started to run directly across the field, thinking that perhaps he hadn't seen me, but he was just driving to the gate at the end of the field. I was actually only 2km away (if you're a crow) from the farm house when i was picked up, but i was thankful to get into the cab and out of the wind and snow for the first time since starting up the mountain 9 hours previously. The pickup was the first real sign of anyone else I had seen all day. The farmer had heard that i was on the way down the mountain, and knew the route to the road i was supposed to follow. He had traced the route and followed my bike spoor (tracks) to see where I had gone wrong. It made me smile to think that he had used tracking skills to locate me in a muddy field in the pitch black night.

The next morning I found out that the temperature had gotten down to -6 at the farm house in the valley, where they'd had only a dusting of snow. I'm not sure what the temperature on the mountain was, particularly with the additional windchill, but It's probably a good thing I didn't try and sleep it out. I couldn't operate a camera that day, (I couldn't even unbuckle my cycle helmet, I had to ask the farmer to do it for me), so I don't have any photos of the snow as it came down, suffice to say it was a whiteout. I watched the weather forecast the next morning and the farmer's wife pointed out our location on the weather map of South Africa, right underneath the 'N' of 'HEAVY SNOW'. This is the view of the mountain that i crossed, taken the next morning:

I left my bike in the farmer's pickup that night, which was stored in his barn, but the next morning it was still clogged with snow and ice. We used hot water to declog everything, but as I rode off from the farm house 10 minutes later, the hot water had already frozen all of my cables, so for the rest of the morning i had no gear changing ability unless i stopped and strategically kicked various components.

That day was 2 days ago now but i still haven't gotten the feeling back in my fingers. Thankfully they're not black though, so I guess they'll fix themselves eventually. I'm using this rest day to organise some better gloves, and to weather proof my bike.

And Finally

(Hi mum!)
As always, thanks to everyone that has emailed, texted and commented their support, It's always a treat to get into cell reception. I'm resting today so I'll try and catch up with a few emails.

I've been asked to provide an indication as to my current position along the trail. I must admit that the reason I haven't done this before now is that on a day to day basis I don't really have a clue, I just wake up, ride, sleep, repeat! Today I am resting and it is day 26 of 38 planned days to complete the trail. I'm not certain how many kilometres I have covered as my cycle computer packed up a week ago, but looking back over the directions, I should have covered about 1630kms, leaving about 700kms to go. I'm due to finish the trail on 5th June.

Hello to my "London to Malawi Overland" Facebook followers! I'm not really sure what face book is but I can only assume from the name that It's some kind of giant internet sized book of faces. Assuming I'm correct, here is a recent mug shot of yours truly for the album.

If you haven't gotten around to sponsoring me yet then you've obviously got time to do it now since you've made it to the end of another long blog post. I notice that I have 81 Facebook followers, but less than half that many donations... No pressure.

Cheers,

Alex

2007-05-22T09:09:00.000Z

How to Sponsor

If you are happy to use just giving to make an online donation, then please click the link to the right of this page.

If you would like to sponsor this event without making an online transaction, then you can send a cheque made payable to "Link Community Development " to

Tina Sloane
Link Community Development
Unit 39
Kings Exchange Business Village
Tileyard Road
London
N7 9AH

Link will take charge of distributing funds between the two beneficiaries once collection closes. Please attach a note to indicate that it is for Alex Butcher's Freedom Trail event. If you are a UK tax payer then please declare this in the note, and include your full name and home address so that Link can attempt to claim gift aid in addition to your donation - note that this doesn't cost you a penny.

And remember, this isn't just a sponsored bike ride, it is often a sponsored silence too, as sometimes I don't talk at all during the day. And it is a sponsored walk since i often spend hours pushing my bike. It is also a sponsored slim, i'm expecting the final weigh in to be quite impressive. So you're actually getting away with sponsorins 4 events in 1. Now that's value for money.

Thanks,

Alex

2007-05-15T14:46:00.000Z

The Karoo

I'm currently riding through the Great Karoo desert. Karoo means dry place, and it is a fitting name. One early traveller to this area had this to say:

"I came to a pool of mud. The little water it contained was almost boiling ... Tears of delight came into my eyes."

I haven't reached this stage of dehydration however, quite the opposite in fact. Even though it should now be coming into winter the air is so hot and dry that i constantly feel the need to drink. I have had to learn to swill my mouth with the tiniest amount of water or else I quickly drink all the fluids I am carrying and feel sick from over hydration.

The highs and lows of riding solo

The day started with a relaxed tour of Louis's goat farm. All the farmers I have stayed with since Cape Town have been happy to explain their business, and many have offered to show me around the farm, which I always keenly accept. I can now identify 5 different breeds of sheep and goat, and distinguish qualities of wool. I'm sure i'll find a use for these skills back in London. I had a fairly easy mid length flat day of riding ahead and so was happy to spend a bit of time touring Louis's farm. He pointed to a mountain at the back of his land and told me that I should go over it instead of around it, as there were fantastic views from the top. David, the Freedom Trail organiser also said that I *must* take this route. South Africans frequently use 'must' where they mean 'could'. I am used to making the mental substitution, but I was feeling bouyant on this morning and decided to be a bit daring and so took the mountain route, despite the lack of any tracks being marked on the map for the first 20kms or so. This was my first serious error of the day. Until I made it to bed at 11 that night, I would think back to that moment of deciding to cross the mountain.

David's directions described both routes - around and over the mountain. The mountain route would, he said, 'take a little longer, but provide for more varied riding surfaces.' There were in fact 3 distinct riding surfaces that I encountered on this route.
1. On yer bike
2. Push yer bike
3. Carry yer bike
Each surface was present in roughly equal portions. So I struggled to ride, pushed or carried my bike for much of the morning. Making it to the top, I was too tired to really appreciate the spectacular views. I checked my GPS and found that the waypoint for the next track was actually in a field on the other side of a fence from me, so I needed to take a best guess at which direction to follow down the other side of the mountain. The land is used for cattle grazing, so there were numerous animal tracks leading off in various directions to confuse the issue. I picked one, but after about 1km it disappeared suddenly. That would be a cow track then. I pushed and carried back up the path, as it was strewn with melon sized rocks. I rode further along the watershed of the mountain and started to descend a jeep track, but that too disappeared at the top of a gorge, and I was left to push and carry back up the hill once again. Eventually I found the right track down the mountain but the surface was similar to the one on the way up. I hit a sharp rock and my back tire blew out. After fixing the tube I continued only to have the exact same thing happen 100 metres further along (yes, Ben S and Ben W, you were right, I should have gone tubeless). The terrain was too rough to ride, so I carried, and somewhat dejectedly threw my bike down the rest of the mountain, but my problems had only just begun. I tried for the next hour and a half to find a farm track east to the neighbouring farm land, but eventually gave up, everything seemed to lead to dead end or else turned South. I was now almost out of water too, so I headed back to the last farm house, but there was nobody to give me directions. I decided to give up with the cross country route and take the road to my destination, which would still be 70kms once I got to the road. It was 1700 and the sun was low in the sky - I needed to get moving in the right direction quickly. I asked some kids the way back to the road and they pointed to a farm track. Mistake number 2. I started the slow climb along the track but after about 15 minutes I realised they had sent me the wrong way. I was now getting pretty depressed about the way the day was going, at this point i was still within 15km of where I had eaten breakfast, so decided to take a break and finish my sandwichs to rally my spirits. I turned to start the ride back to the farm house, but found that my back tire was flat again. I fixed the tire only to discover that my last GPS batteries had run out after only 30 mins use (in South Africa the Ever Ready brand is most misleadingly named). I made it back to the farm as darkness descended, but then took off my sun glasses and realised I had about another 30 minutes of light. Over the next 5 hours I munched my way through emergency rations of dried fruit, nuts, energy bars and race fuel (a stimulant packed water additive). I was getting tired and my legs refused to pedal at much more than 15km/h despite the reasonable gravel road surface. I prayed for a second wind, but instead got a force 2 head wind. I stopped praying after that.

Looking Up

I didn't see a single car for the first 4 hours, nor any people. There was a real sense of isolation, which I've come to appreciate. The Karoo air is extremely dry and free from air pollution, and the few buildings that I came across, having no electricity, burned candles. So when I stopped to rest, usually in the middle of the road, I could lie down and star gaze at the most amazing sky. I saw 3 shooting stars that night. I also noticed for the first time, that due to the air quality and lack of light pollution, you can see stars right on the horizon. Lying there in the road with the warm desert wind and the stars, I was seriously tempted to pull out my space blanket and polythene sheet and just sleep. I felt completely safe having seen noone in hours, but without cell reception, I knew this would cause problems at my expected destination, so I pushed on.

Being on my own it became difficult to motivate myself to continue. Pauses for breath turned into 10 minute star gazing sessions. Reaching for my water bottle was an excuse to stop for a few minutes. I took out my MP3 player to keep me company - Lilly Allen's gifted lyrics have never failed to lift my spirits, so I feel bad for a while, but then I just smile (...I go ahead and smile, etc). It was only a temporary fix though, as the album started over again, (damn it Lilly, when's your next album coming out?), my body decided it had had enough and I stopped at an intersection still 16km from the farm.

It was 2230, and after 13 hours on the bike with only minimal breaks, I couldn't go any further. I called David to explain, at that point I would have been perfectly happy to don my winter clothes and sleep in a bush, but David said he would make a plan and call me back. Somehow he managed to find a bed for me at a hunting lodge 50 metres from where I was slouched on the roadside. It was the most incredible news I had heard all week.

A Very Different Day

The day before this somewhat epic and solitary journey, I had a very different day when it was a real pleasure to be on my own. David had arranged access to a closed off 4x4 track through part of the Baviaanskloof reserve. Access is actually the wrong word - I had permission to use the track, but I would have to find my own way in around the 3 metre high game fence. I've learnt that it doesn't matter how high the fence is, there's always a way underneath if you walk far enough along. Entering the reserve, it felt as though I had strayed into jurassic park. Once the game fence was out of view, the mountainous landscape was completely unspoilt. There wasn't a single sign of human activity in any direction as far as the eye could see. No telegraph poles, no fences or buildings, just an overgrown 4x4 track.

It was so stunning to be a part of these surroundings that I slowed my pedaling right down to take it all in, which also ensured that I was quiet, essential for suprising game. I knew that there were buffalo in the reserve and after my first few knee deep river crossings I found fresh buffalo dung. It may not sound that exciting to you reading this at work, it was after all just a rather large pile of turd, but it meant that I was sharing this wilderness with 1 of the big 5, and although I didn't actually see the animals, they were close by somewhere. Throughout the day I saw a variety of antelope ranging in size from spot to rudolf. There were fish in the river, and the birds sang. It feels as though I'm painting a cliche, but the Kloof really is spectacularly beautiful and I felt exceptionally lucky to be allowed to enjoy this area of it on my own. I didn't see or hear anyone all day until after I had left the reserve.

So as you can see, riding on my own has had its ups and downs. Thankfully the downs have been limited, and the ups have made the trip.

And Finally...

Thanks to all those people that have sponsored me so far. If you're reading this (can that ever be false?) and you haven't sponsored me, then that is theft, and I shall be looking to prosecute on my return to civilisation. Nothing this good comes for free, so get over to my just giving page now please (Link to the right somewhere). You are only excused if you are a student or if I owe you money. If you would like to contribute but don't wish to setup a just giving account, then you can do so by cheque. Details of how to do this will follow on the next post.

Stijn - it's not cold yet in Karoo, still having quite a warm spell. Drop me an email (alex.butcher[at]gmail.com) and I'll fill you in on my onward plans, as they seem to get more complicated by the day....

After 3 tough days, I'm resting up today, eating my way through my hosts' fridge. I've just spent an hour repairing 8 punctures. When I start back on the trail tomorrow, I will be half way along, so another milestone achieved. As always, thanks for all the emails and text messages, sorry that I haven't replied to all individually, as I only have short periods of time with cell/email reception, but it has been great to receive them all.

Cheers,

Alex