Right Around Africa

Hrm. Where is our brave adventuress? I get worried with no posts over a long period of time.

This report slipped under the radar somehow.
I think Jo is experiencing Dakar fever.

Yikes! Sorry everyone. I do need to update this RR. Will do so asap. I seriously do have Dakar fever!

Incredible!!! You are a brave and strong woman! Biking all Africa -wow and then going around Africa by ADV bike - unbelievable.

And then you have friends I mean not just friends but friends with influence its really great!!!


Hopefully will be moving to South Africa next year. To meet you on one of those trips would be an honor.

You are not currently on the Dakar Ralley, aren't you?

Keep on riding safely...

ETHIOPIA:

I was up before the sun the next morning and went about boiling some water for coffee on my cool MSR expedition stove. It was my last day in Sudan and I was happy I’d spent it in a tent. I hadn’t spent much time in my tent and I was, after all, lugging it with me all the way around Africa! Might as well use it every now and then!



Francois got up as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. I had already packed my bike. We had our coffee and enjoyed the fresh morning air, contemplating what the next border might be like?

We filled up just before we reached the Ethiopian border. We had camped only 40 kilometers from the border, so it didn’t take us all that long to reach the invisible line that divides Sudan and Ethiopia.*

We were directed to a building next to the road. A small decent down a muddy path brought us to a small group of immigration officials. We were greeted with friendly smiles and shown inside. No fuss, no hassles. Quick and easy. So quick and easy that I wondered off in search of some coffee at one of the little “cafés” that are situated all along the road. After we’d had our coffee it was off to immigration to have our baggage checked and our Carnet’s stamped. Once again we were met by a friendly face and efficient service. You are shown to a seat inside a building and the officer on the other side of the desk asks you questions. “Where are you from”, “Where are you going to”, “Any electronics to declare?” – and here you declare things like your mobile phone, cameras, laptops, tablets, gps etc.



After the paperwork has been completed, you get ushered to your vehicle, where they check that your vehicle’s VIN number and the VIN number on your Carnet match. And then you’re free to proceed.

We planned to stay over at Tim & Kim Village (www.timkimvillage.com) in Gorgora next to Lake Tana that night. Not that far from the border and so we weren’t in any rush.

Francois took an early turn-off toward Lake Tana and I could see on my GPS that this was not a tarred road. This was an off road detour. Francois stopped and looked back at me and asked whether this was the road we were supposed to take? I quickly made some calculations as to whether we’d have enough fuel for the detour, and figured, seeing as Francois didn’t have a great deal of off road experience…the more practice, the better. I smiled quietly and indicated that he should take the detour.



It wasn’t that bad. Maybe 60 kilometers off road with fairly good graded gravel and the odd river crossing. I was having a ball. Although Francois was a little stressed out, I think deep down he was also enjoying himself a great deal. There were a few deep and tricky water crossings, but Francois just soldiered on right through them. He did a fantastic job I’d hoped this bit of off road would help him get into a more comfortable rhythm by the time we reached ‘hell road’ in Kenya.







Reaching Tim & Kim Village in Gorgora was like arriving in paradise. It is an absolute jewel of a place. You make your way up and down a two-track road and then you’re most likely to be greeted personally by either Tim or Kim…or both, as you’re welcomed to their beautiful piece of heaven. You can choose between staying in a bungalow or pitching your tent or staying in one of their tents. They have great facilities. You’re right on Lake Tana and as a result you can enjoy the most spectacular views whilst kicking back and enjoying an ice cold one after a hard days riding.





We did exactly that and spent the afternoon relaxing. Later that evening we were introduced to another South African who joined us for dinner. Seeing as there were now two South Africans at the village, a fire and a braai (BBQ) was in order. We spent the rest of the evening in conversation with our hosts and swopping out stories with everyone around the table.

The next morning I was up early enough to watch the sun rise over the Lake. After breakfast we loaded our bikes and headed off towards Debre Markos, where we would spend the night before heading to Wim’s Holland House in Addis. We had to take the same gravel road out towards Gondar to fill up with fuel before turning southwards again. It had, by now, become apparent that we might struggle with finding fuel everywhere. We were shown away from a number of filling stations before finding one that was willing to help us out. Seems that Ethiopia has a bit of a fuel problem.



The road to Debre Markos is a good tarmac road leading you through some beautiful Ethiopian countryside. We also made our way through a number of smaller villages. We stopped off in one of said villages for a coffee and the obligatory Injera (traditional Ethiopian flatbread) and inadvertently became the main attraction as hundreds of locals started gathering around our bikes, pointing and engaging in pensive conversation. The children come closer and put their hands out, chanting: “you, you, you…money, money, money”. Though at the same time I’ve had children come up to me and simply ask for stationary! Broke my heart that I didn’t have any pens or books to give them.













We were going at a very easy pace through Ethiopia, which gives you a chance to really take in the scenery. It is such a beautiful country and definitely one of the top three most beautiful countries I’ve ridden through. It is such a rich and fertile land with lush green hills that just roll on forever. Mountains that tower over you in all their majestic greatness and valleys that plunge down beside you to reveal neat farms down below.













That being said, Addis Ababa was not one of my favorite cities visited. When we arrived in Addis it was raining. Coming down the steep hill into town visibility was minimal and the traffic at a slow-go. It all seemed pretty straightforward at first and I thought I’d have us at Wim’s Holland House in no time…until I realized that half the city had been dug up in road works and what seemed to be a new underground train system in progress. I got us within 500 meters of our destination, but just couldn’t find a way that would get us TO Wim’s place.*

I eventually admitted defeat and phoned Wim. I had stopped just beyond a big roundabout and hoped it might be enough of a landmark for him to explain to me how to get to his place. Whilst talking to him on the phone, a young boy came and stood next to me. Really close, right up against me. Then another appeared. And another. And another. And then, I felt a little hand slipping into my bag that I’ve always carried over my shoulder, under my jacket and kind of on my hip. I’ve never had any issues despite people always thinking it makes for an easy target.

The boys pretended to be looking at my GPS and asked me questions whilst the one that was right up against me went to work with finding whatever he could in my bag. I didn’t make a fuss. I just reached down, took hold of his arm and started twisting. With a somewhat surprised and slightly bewildered look in his eyes, the teenager just turned and walked away. I was trying to indicate to Francois that we needed to get out of there, but he was talking to two guys on a bike who said they could take us to Wim’s. My inner voice was telling me that this is a very bad idea and before I could stop Francois he was following the two guys on their bike. I started chasing after them and after almost 20 kilometers of riding in the complete opposite direction I got Francois’ attention and we turned around. The two guys on the bike ahead of us turned around as well, chasing after us, but we managed to lose them in the traffic. I’ve heard some horror stories in other countries where travelers had been mugged or had their vehicles stolen after being told to follow someone, so I’m glad we got out of that one.

We made our way and I tried to find a way around the road works to Wim’s place. The city was in chaos with construction vehicles all over and no way of figuring out where one might find a detour. We eventually landed up in front of a police office and I phoned Wim again. We were still only 500 meters from his place and still just couldn’t find a way through to the street we needed to be on. He told us to stay put and he’d come and fetch us. It took him half an hour to get to us, 500 meters away!

Wim instructed one of his workers to show us to his place and left to go do some shopping. This poor man ran all the way, through the traffic to show us where to go and after an eventful few hours since we’d arrived in Addis, we finally made it to Wim’s Holland House. We immediately went straight to the bar to have something cold to drink and then found out that they didn’t have any accommodation available. When Wim arrived back he said we could either camp in the parking area (there was some grass) or he’d let us sleep in his house. He even provided us with some mattresses and made some space for us in his living room. The only reason we didn’t camp was because it was raining.*



The bar is like a local hangout for overlanders of all walks of life. We spent the evening meeting people from all over the world and swapping out stories. Some traveling in Land Rovers, others by public transport and a guy in a car who had some crazy stories to tell about how he was chased by Bedouins through the desert in the south of Egypt. How he was thrown in jail in Iran. It seemed that everywhere this guy went, trouble followed. I loved chatting to all these interesting people. I sat chatting to Wim for a while as well and asked him about routes going south. He suggested we not take the main road heading towards Kenya but rather take a back route that’s not as congested and far more interesting. He drew me a map and wrote down directions on 3 different scraps of paper and with that I turned in for the night, confident that I’d be able to navigate us safely out of Addis the next morning.

Luckily I am pretty good with directions and managed to get us out of Addis and onto the back road Wim had suggested. I am not very fond of Addis. In fact, it might make my top 3 “least-favorite-cities” list. I felt very uneasy, even before the attempted pickpocketing incident and wouldn’t go there again unless I absolutely had to.

And so we made our way towards Arba Minch, via Butajira and through Sodo. Francois had read about a very posh looking lodge next to Lake Abaya, which he wanted to check out and so, it was decided that we’d head in that direction.

This road was far quieter and I felt more at ease on it as well. Felt like I could breathe again. We stopped off alongside the road for breakfast at a small hotel, which was really good, and then kept a very easy pace making our way through the beautiful countryside.*







When we got to the town of Arba Minch we first went in search of fuel as both of us needed to fill up. After two unsuccessful visits to filling stations I was getting a little nervous. We were told that they might have fuel the next morning. We had little choice and started searching for Francois’ lodge. We couldn’t find the place and eventually were helped by two local boys on a scooter who showed us to different lodges in the area. (This time I felt completely comfortable following them around. Amazing how your instincts guide you!)

It was getting dark and we needed to make a decision as to where we were going to stay. We found a beautiful lodge with the most stunning views over the Lake, but it was pricey. $60 per person per night. I wasn’t willing to pay that and we tried to negotiate for a better price. We eventually got away with $40 each. Still a bit steep but we decided to bite the bullet. Just the views made it worth it.



Next morning we started our hunt for fuel after we’d had breakfast. We couldn’t find fuel anywhere, but a tour guide back at the lodge arranged for another two local boys to help us. Again we were following two young men on a bike. They led us down into the valley to a village and then stopped about a kilometer outside the village. They told us to wait next to the road because, if we went into the village with them to buy fuel off the black market and people saw we are tourists, the price would automatically be doubled. I thought it rather considerate of them. We did as we were told and waited next to the road. Within minutes we had attracted quite a crowd. People pointing and smiling, conversing, frowning, laughing. I was starting to get a tiny bit claustrophobic and then our two saviors appeared with twenty liters worth of fuel in two liter plastic bottles. We emptied the bottles into our tanks, paid the boys (we still had to pay quite a hefty price for the fuel), bid farewell to the crowds and hit the road.



We had just passed through the village when we came down a hill and the most extraordinary site greeted us…There, in the road…not on the side of the road but IN the road…blocking the entire road, were thousands upon thousands (I kid you not) of cattle. I have never seen so many cows in my life! It quickly became clear that we were going to have to, painstakingly and very slowly, weave our way through all these cattle. My bike is pretty loud and I hoped this might help in clearing a path through the herds, but it was obvious that these cattle were used to all kinds of traffic making their way around them. No amount of revving or hooting really helped. I just tried to avoid their horns. Every now and then a bull would bump into Dax and I’d struggle to maneuver as to not bump into another bull. It was chaos! But fun in a limited kind of a way.



The tarmac road ended as soon as we finally got through the herds of cattle and we had quite a bit of off road to do until we’d rejoin the main road down to the border town of Moyale between Ethiopia and Kenya. It was a good, graded, gravel road though and we could easily average 80 kilometers per hour, sometimes a bit slower as we climbed up a beautiful mountain pass and then plunged down into an equally beautiful valley.





When we finally rejoined the main road heading down to Kenya, we stopped off for lunch and refueled the bikes. Tomorrow we would start on the notorious ‘Hell Road’ after crossing into Kenya. I knew it would be challenging, but I was looking forward to it!

Welcome back - we missed you

Thank you! I have some catching up to do!

Jo,

Thank You once again for sharing your awesome adventure.

Hope the sponsors are lining up to help you to the starting line of Dakar 2015.

Anyone down in the dumps - 1 hour in this lady's company will lift your spirit.

Very relieved to see you're ok and making steady progress south. I'm sure I was not the only one who was starting to get just a bit worried when you had not posted for a few months. Yours has been one of the most incredible adventures to follow on this site. Can't wait to read the book. Safe travels, Jo.

Only see this now

Sien jou by EC bash

Agree completely to Reppas no need to repeat all, i am glad your ok and continue here...

Thank you Jo for putting in the effort of this RR.
Certainly helps getting names of places to stay and visit, like the Tim and Kim Village. Planning a trip through Africa myself in a couple of years time.

Trev

Thank god you're back Jo. You are such an inspiration. Must say, Im flabbergasted how the landscape changed so quick and dramatic from Sudan to Ethiopia.

Read the entire RR! You certainly have the balls than most of the men including me

Thanks so much! Your kind words serve as great motivation to continue with the report!
I'll be sure to let you all know when the book is published.

I know right? And it literally does happen that fast! One moment you're still surrounded by the desert and then the next moment…pooofff…you're surrounded by greenery again! :huh Amazing.

Yay! Sien julle daar!!

Kenya!

The road towards Moyale, the border town between Ethiopia and Kenya, was clearly being worked on and we found ourselves riding on a piece of tarred road running alongside the new road in progress. On arrival in the border town we filled up with fuel and went about looking for a place to stay for the night. We found a cheap hotel that seemed popular to overlanders just before the border. (I can’t remember the hotel’s name. It’s on the right hand side as you approach the border. It has secure parking, clean rooms, restaurant and bar and wifi. And relatively cheap)



Francois’ bike started losing spokes on the rear wheel. This was a little concerning and we started checking on all the spokes. Some of them were pretty loose and we went about tightening them. He also wanted to fit his knobblies that he was carrying for ‘hell road’ and went in search of a workshop that could do this for him. I remained at the hotel, had a shower and went to find a guy I had seen earlier on another 1200 adv.

The guy on the 1200 turned out to be an Israeli gentleman named Odette and I also found out that he’d run into some South African adventure rider friends of mine in China on their tour earlier in the year! Small world! I sat chatting to Odette and having a beer whilst waiting for Francois to return. It started getting dark and I was getting worried. It doesn’t take THAT long to change a set of tyres. Alas, before I could saddle up to go rescue the Frenchman, he pulled up about thirty minutes later with a new set of tyres and a beaming smile. I think, psychologically, this gave him more confidence for the road ahead. In the end he wouldn’t really need it.

Next morning we were up early and joined Odette for breakfast before we started heading south to cross the border and Odette would head up north towards Addis. Hell road – here we come!





And then…30 kilometers in…this happens!





My poor bike’s rear suspension gave in only 30 kilometers into Hell Road! This meant I’d have to do almost 300 kilometers of off road without a rear shock. It was like riding a pogo stick for hundreds of kilometers. Once the shock went I knew that we wouldn’t be able to make it to Nairobi the next day. We had planned on making it to Marsabit the first day and then Nairobi on day 2. I told Francois that I thought it best if we stayed over in this tiny village called Torbi and then carry on to Marsabit the next day. I could only get up to 40 km/h max so there was no way we’d make it anyway. The going was slow and tiring. The riding wasn’t anything technical but my body was just taking a beating, as it was now acting as the shock absorber.



We made it to Torbi and asked whether the ‘hotel’ could accommodate us for the night. The people were extremely friendly and kind and invited us in to sit in the shade whilst we negotiated a rate for two single rooms. We were told that we’d have to wait a little while whilst they prepared the rooms for us. This didn’t faze us at all and we ordered some lunch and something to drink whilst waiting. Lunch consisted of some meat strips with flat bread. Simple but really tasty.





The rooms were very basic. Two single beds in each room, no electricity, no running water. I asked where I could wash myself and was shown to a shack about 30 meters away and given a bucket of water. I’ve washed myself out of a bucket many times, so this was not an issue for me. Francois however, found it a little difficult. Of course there were no flushing toilets either but a ‘long-drop’ across from our rooms. Personally, I prefer to rather go out in the bush than use a long-drop. I just think it more hygienic, personally.



I couldn’t sleep as it was so hot and decided to rather go lie outside a bit to cool down and watch the stars. Though when I opened my door there was a man lying on a mattress in front of the door. I had to step over him to go outside. I still don’t know what that was in aid of? Maybe some security? Didn’t bother me though…I just carefully stepped over him when going in or out of the room throughout the night.

Next morning, as we were loading the bikes and getting ready for the road to Marsabit, a Rastafarian approached me and indicated that he was absolutely fascinated with my collection of bracelets from all the countries I’d been through. He asked if he could have one? I explained to him that most of the bracelets had been given to me as a gift from someone in each country I’d traveled through. He stood quiet, pondering this for a little while…and then took off one of the bracelets and gave it to me!



With that we bid our hosts farewell and hit the road. It was a long, hot slog towards Marsabit. There’s not a great deal in the way of scenery in northern Kenya. Besides I was so focused on the corrugated road and dodging rocks and carefully making my way through the sand patches as I was adamant that I would not fall on Hell Road! My friend and fellow adventure rider Omar, in Alexandria (Egypt) bet me that I’d fall at least once on Hell Road. Challenge accepted of course! Francois unfortunately wouldn’t win the bet. I really felt for him and wished we could pretend it never happened.









We passed a military officer carrying his AK47 somewhere between Torbi and Marsabit. He gesticulated, trying to tell us to stop. I was a bit weary of stopping for anyone on this road and so just smiled (slightly nervously), waved and carried on riding. I figured that the chances of him chasing after us was so slim that, even if he did get into his vehicle and come after us, we’d have put enough distance between us and him to successfully outrun him. Francois later told me that he was really worried and seeing as he was at the back, he was afraid he might get shot at first. LoL. I assured him I’d never leave him behind.

The road wasn’t that difficult, just tiring and even more so without my rear shock. Both Francois and I grew quiet and just concentrated at getting to Marsabit. Every now and then we’d pass by a group of men working on the road and be greeted with whistles and waves.





When we made it to Marsabit we headed straight to a hotel called Nomads Trail. Clean hotel with secure parking, restaurant and wifi. We had something to eat and decided we both needed some rest and turned in to our rooms for a shower and a nap. Later on we went about exploring the town a bit and search for a few cold beers which we found at a local bar that had a big screen television and were screening a movie.



I asked the locals about the road ahead and how far we still had to go before we would hit the tarred road? Answers ranged from 40 to 120 kilometers! Haha! So I figured I’d go with a number in between and set it at 60 kilometers. Francois was obviously getting fed up with Hell Road now. Next morning after about 40 kilometers (I found the last bit to be the worst of it with loose rocks and some ruts and sandy patches), whilst taking a break Francois turned to me and asked: “How far still to go Jo? This is your Africa. You should know!” In the end it turned out to be about another 90 kilometers until we reached the tar road. I’ll never forget the look of relief on Francois’ face!









From hereon out the landscape also started changing from the arid, dry surrounding we’d seen the last few days to more greenery and some hills surrounding us now. From Marsabit we made our way to Nanyuki where we’d spend the night with a friend of a friend of mine who lives near Mount Kenya. This was also the point where I crossed the equator again, on the other side of the continent! I could feel that I was now entering the final stage of the tour and it filled me with mixed emotions. Though I still had quite a way to go!





Form Nanyuki we headed into Nairobi where we’d stay at the famous overlander camp, Jungle Junction, run by Chris. Jungle Junction had just moved from their old spot and Odette in Moyale was kind enough to have given me a leaflet with directions to their new address. They were now situated at the southern end of Nairobi and we braved the traffic through the city. When we got to JJ’s the first thing I could see was a load of bikes parked at one end of the property and 4x4’s all over the place. This felt like home! We decided to treat ourselves to rooms as opposed to camping and settled in for a few days. The next three days were spent catching up on admin such as washing, and giving Francois’ bike a once-over as he’d be carrying on, on his own from hereon out whilst I stayed behind in Nairobi to fix my Dax.



We met a number of travelers from all over the world ranging from a Japanese bloke on a bicycle, a French couple with their 4x4, a South African bird-watcher, a lovely girl photographer from the Netherlands and a group from Namibia. It felt both strange and wonderful to be amongst like-minded people and our evenings were spent around a table sharing stories from our different journeys.

Meanwhile I had the issue of Dax’s broken rear shock. A good friend of mine back in South Africa and, yes you guessed it, another adventure traveler along with his wife (Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG) offered me the spare shock of one of their Dakars. They were traveling Europe at that time and so the planning started to get the shock shipped up to me in Nairobi. I approached TNT back in SA and they very kindly offered to ship the shock up at no charge! Awesome! So now just had to wait for the shock to arrive. In the meantime I made arrangements to move to a friend’s place when Francois left.
The day came and I bid Francois farewell, wishing him well for the road ahead and said I’d try to catch up to visit with him and his girlfriend in Cape Town. His girlfriends was flying out from France to visit him at the end of his journey. I later found out that Francois settled my bill without saying anything at JJ’s as a way of saying thank you for being his ‘guide’ on the first leg of his trip. Incredibly generous and very kind of him.



I then met up with Chantal Young and her family. Chantal had contacted me on Facebook after reading about me on a mutual friend’s page. So this was the first time we actually met in person. We were like best friends instantly and it turned out that they lived just around the corner from JJ’s, so I just had to ride around the block to their house where they very kindly allowed me to stay for the next few weeks whilst waiting for the shock to arrive from South Africa.

Most of Chantal’s family has been or are currently involved in rally racing. Chantal herself is a rally car navigator and so when it came to having to fit my new shock it was no problem for a bunch of petrol heads like ourselves.

In the meantime Chantal kept me entertained by going on a road trip to Nakuru National Park where I got to view some wild animals for the first time in (what felt like) forever! It was absolutely wonderful and I had such an amazing time! We were very lucky and got to see loads of buffalo, zebra and giraffes and we even saw some rhino and lions!





















Riding around in a car in Kenya was a different experience and it also gave me the opportunity to have a look around and note things I might normally not see when concentrating whilst riding on the bike.







Back in Nairobi my shock had arrived and I, along with my amazingly skilled team, fitted it in no time flat! It was a bittersweet occasion as this meant I could now continue on my journey, but I’d have to leave my new-found family in Nairobi! (Thank you to the Youngs!)







I also had the opportunity to visit the David Sheldrick Wildlife trust and see elephants…wait for it…bare yourself…FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! Elephants are my favorite animals so this was a very special occasion for me!





I tried to delay for as long as I possibly could, but then the time came for me to get on with it and make my way to the next country on route. Tanzania!

Tanzania:

From Nairobi I made my way down to the Namanga border, which is near the Amboseli National Park. The best view of Mt. Kilimanjaro is supposed to be from Amboseli. I’ve definitely seen some stunning photos of the majestic mountain taken from this park. Chantal rode out with me a few kilometers and we stopped off for breakfast on route at a place called ‘Whistling Thorns’, about an hour’s drive from Nairobi. They also offer accommodation here. www.whistlingthorns.com

After breakfast it was time to finally bid farewell to my new sister/friend/travel companion. It was really difficult saying goodbye and so I didn’t hang around for too long. I hate goodbyes!



At the Namanga border I ran into two of the Holgate 4x4’s. I got so excited! I’m a big Kingsley Holgate fan! Though there was no sign of the man himself, and not surprisingly I was through and done with my paperwork before the two 4x4’s. (I figure they have more things that have to be checked on/in the vehicles). I stopped on the other side of the border to buy a new sim card. Though I stopped too far down the road and the telecoms-shacks were the ones just as you exit/enter the border. I didn’t feel like walking back and decided I’d go about finding a sim card in Arusha.





In Arusha I stayed at a place called Sakina Camp (www.sakinacamp.com) . Basic but affordable. So affordable that I opted on taking a room rather than camping. Besides, it looked like it might rain. The owner of the establishment is super friendly and helpful. After chatting for while and helping me carry my bags to my room he gave me information on where I could get food and anything else I might need. I liked Tanzania already!

I was looking forward to seeing Mt. Kilimanjaro the next day, but it soon became clear that it was just not meant to be. It rained throughout the night and it was still drizzling when I left Sakina Camp. By the time I got to Moshi and passed Mt. Kilimanjaro I could just make out the base of the mountain, the rest was just clouds! I didn’t bother waiting around to see if the clouds may lift as I still had a long way to go. I opted to skip Dar Es Salaam and would head for Morogoro instead. From here I’d make my way inland down to Malawi!







I soon learned that Tanzania has a great plethora of accommodation options! There are hotels and guesthouses and camping spots around every corner and at really affordable rates! I could afford to stay in hotels or guesthouses every night, as it was just so cheap! (US$20 average – this wouldn’t give you 5 star accommodation but the basics)

From Morogoro I made my way down to Mbeya via Iringa and stayed in a hotel right on the outskirts of town, overlooking the main roundabout that leads you to the Malawian border. On route I passed through ‘Baobab Valley’ situation between Mikumi and Iringa on the edge of the Udzungwa Mountains National Park – it was stunning! All these baobab trees for as far as the eye can see! It was a very welcome surprise, as I didn’t even know about the existence of ‘Baobab Valley’. Lovely!








You don't want to accidentally hit anything whilst riding through the park!









That thing of: “You have to be extra careful nearing the end of a journey”, is very true! Although I was still some way from home, I was now in the home stretch and wouldn’t have anticipated that I’d come off for the first time ever on tar…and hard!

It was raining a lot whilst I was riding through Tanzania and on route, just before getting to Mbeya I was riding up this beautiful mountain pass. Right before getting to the top I was in the final corner, a tight hairpin bend to the right. I didn’t see the spilt diesel in the road though and next thing I knew I was high-sided and skidding across the road on my stomach. I hit my chin on the tarmac first (thank goodness for protective gear!) and then felt myself sliding off the other side of the road. Amazing how many thoughts go through your mind in a split second! First thought that went through my mind was: “Shiiiiiiiit”. Second thought was: “Please let my bike be okay”. Third: “Please don’t let me break any bones!”

After I’d come to a halt, I jumped right up as I knew my bike was lying right in the turn and wouldn’t be visible to oncoming traffic! I could immediately assess that I hadn’t broken anything. Well all my limbs were functional so I figured I came off lightly! I hobbled across (okay I was hurting a bit), to my bike that was now lying in the road and facing the wrong way. There was a man that had been standing at the top of the hill. He saw it all happen and ran down to check if I was okay. All I could say was: “Please help me move my bike!” Once we got Dax out of harm’s way I started with damage assessment. Dax seemed fine, apart from a new dent in the right hand side pannier, a few scrapes and the handlebar guard was loose. My left arm was in a great deal of pain. I hit my elbow coming off and my arm got stuck under my body as I was skidding across the road. My left shoulder was killing me! I didn’t think anything was broken though.





After five minutes of going over Dax and myself, I thanked the Samaritan and then I was on my way again.

By the time I reached the hotel I had such a headache from a) the knock on the road and b) the adrenalin that had worn off …and I couldn’t move my arm. I took a hot shower and plonked myself down onto the bed and promptly passed out after I’d ordered some food.

A feeling of urgency started to fill me. I guess because I was now so close from the finish line, and yet so far! Just two more countries to go and I’d be back on home soil! I found myself in two minds. I just wanted to get to that finish line…but at the same time I didn’t want this journey to end just yet!

Malawi & Mozambique:

My camera (Nikon Coolpix – such a cool little camera!) unfortunately broke in the crash, so from hereon out I had to mainly take photos on my phone.

When I got up the next morning my body was one huge ache. Especially my left arm. I suspected it just to be some bad bruising. Breathing also hurt so I suspected some bruised ribs to go along with my other bruised muscles. But nothing was broken, which meant I could carry on!

I made my way to the Songwe border crossing between Tanzania and Malawi which is about 115 kilometers from Mbeya. Arriving at the border I firstly went about changing money. Usually I wait until I’m actually ‘in’ the border to change money, but for some reason I decided to stop and change money before the border on this day. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was remaining seated on the bike whilst attempting to change money.

I always count out how much I want to change before reaching a border, then I’d usually put that away in a pocket and only take the money out at the border…as opposed to taking out my wallet. On this day I also didn’t do that. So the ‘gentleman’ that was assisting me asked me how much I wanted to change? I told him and he handed me a pack of notes. The pack was divided into smaller packs with denominations of tens in the pack. Though he counted it as hundreds. This is an old trick!

So I started arguing with him, saying that he didn’t give me enough money. As the argument started heating up, more and more ‘gentlemen’ started joining in and before I knew it I had half a dozen hands grabbing at my wallet! They got away with about US$150!

To brighten my day a little more, I was pulled over after I’d crossed the border. Routine checks. It was then discovered that my ‘COMESA’ third party insurance that I had bought in Tanzania wasn’t COMESA insurance after all! And so I had to pay a fine. (I paid $100 for my fake COMESA insurance! Haha)

I was not in the best of moods by this time. Though as I made my way further south I came across a very pleasant surprise. A man had contacted me sometime back on a riding forum, asking me for advice and info as him and his son would be riding up to Egypt at some point. ‘Them’ being Jan-Lukas and Bas de Vos. (Amsterdam on the forum) And then I ran into them in Malawi! Yay. It was not too far from the border and just after I had been pulled over, I remember passing these two bikes and it was like we all had the same thought instantaneously, thinking: “Hang on a minute, isn’t that…”. I pulled over and the guys turned back. We spent about half an hour on the side of the road quickly catching up as I gave them information and contacts for the road leading up to Cairo.



After a long chat and some photos, they were off to Tanzania (I warned them about the scammers) and I was off to find a place to stay next to the Lake. I had dreamt about what it would be like to get to Lake Malawi one day. It’s just one of those mysteriously amazing locations! Nothing could’ve prepared me for actually being there though. It really is just beautiful.



I spent a night at Mayoka Village (www.mayokavillagebeachlodge.com) . I decided to spoil myself after the last few mishaps I’d had and booked myself into a room, overlooking the lake. I was in heaven and didn’t want to leave! I decided I’d take a rest day when I reached the southern tip of the lake the next day. I didn’t want to leave Mayoka. It’s a magical place and I’d go back in a heartbeat to just spend a few weeks next to the Lake.



Next day would see me riding down to the southern region of the Lake where I would stay at the Fat Monkey Lodge in Cape Maclear. (http://www.tripadvisor.co.za/Hotel_Review-g666537-d2084156-Reviews-Fat_Monkeys-Cape_Maclear_Lake_Malawi_National_Park.html )
Friends and fellow adventure riders who I’ve mentioned before, Michnus and Elsabie Olivier from ATG (www.atgear.co.za) (Their blog: http://www.pikipiki.co.za) had referred me to Fat Monkeys. And what a cool place! I opted to camp this time round. I hadn’t camped since Sudan and felt it time.

The road to Fat Monkeys






I came across a weird phenomenon on my way riding down south though. I approached what looked like a smoke cloud. I even held my breath just before I entered said ‘smoke cloud’. It turned out to be a humungous swarm of tiny little bugs! I had to stop as soon as I’d passed through the swarm as my goggles were just packed with a layer of bugs! Strange!







I spent two blissful days relaxing next to the lake and met a whole bunch of overlanders ranging from a Dutch couple who’d been riding all over Southern Africa for a few months. A bunch of guys from London who were doing a trip from South Africa up to Tanzania. And Yves, a French cyclist with a very American English accent (he’d spent quite a few years as a rickshaw rider in New York) who’d cycled down the East Coast of Africa and would be making his way down to South Africa before heading back up the west coast again. We hit it off immediately and became camp buddies!



My rest day was spent sleeping in, having Dax washed, and generally just lazing around either on the beach or at the bar in the shade. It was heavenly! I witnessed an amazing sunset that greeted my on my last evening in Malawi before I’d be leaving for Mozambique. Thought here were still a few ‘kinks in the cable’ to deal with on route before I could make it to South Africa.









First kink came the next morning when I had to pay for my accommodation. The entire area’s electricity was out and my visa card didn’t want to work for some reason. Yves offered to pay for me and I could pay him back when he got to South Africa. I politely refused though and asked the lodge whether they’d accept some dollars. I only had singles left though. Well it’s not like they had much of a choice. I was out of Malawian Kwacha and my card didn’t want to work. They did accept the hand-full of single dollar notes though and I was on my way.

Next I had to fill up with fuel! But of course the ATM in town wasn’t working as a result of the electricity being out, and there was only this single ATM in a fifty kilometer radius! So I hung around for a while until the electricity came back on. It did come back on eventually but my card still didn’t want to work! I phoned my friend Hanret back home to please phone my bank and find out why my card wouldn’t work. In the meantime I tried to find out where the nearest next ATM was. The other little problem I had was that I only had about 40 kilometers worth of fuel left!

The bank confirmed that there was nothing wrong with my card and I had sufficient funds, so I had no choice other than to chance it to the next town to find a different ATM. I rode along at no more than 80 kilometers per hour as to try and preserve whatever fuel I had left. I did make it in the end and when I filled up I had less than half a liter’s worth of fuel left in my tank. Main thing is it all worked out fine though and I could continue to Mozambique! I was about 250 kilometers from the border and still wanted to make it to Tete, about 370 kilometers away! Best I got a move on!

I would cross the border into Mozambique just beyond a town called Mwanza in Malawi. It’s a fairly quiet border crossing and I was stamped through both sides in no time flat!

The first 60 – 80 kilometers of road towards Tete is being worked on though so I faced a number of diversions that slowed me down. Normally this would not really bother me all that much but I had entered Mozambique just as the Renamo (Mozambican National Resistance) unrest broke out and I didn’t want to ride around at night.

By the time I reached Tete and crossed the Zambezi river into town the sun was just setting. I started searching for a place to spend the night. The first motel I pulled into was obviously under construction and they referred me to a guesthouse just after the bridge. I found it easily enough as it was just down the road back a few hundred meters. There I met a South African guy who was working in Tete at the time and helped me book into the guesthouse. After I’d done offloading my bike and had a shower the gentleman accompanied me down the road to a local restaurant where I ordered some food. It was nice to catch up with a fellow South African. I was now really getting close to home!
I can’t remember the name of the guesthouse but it’s ‘Casa’ something. Right on the Zambesi river, on your left hand side, just as you exit the bridge over the river.

From Tete I would make my way to Chimoio where I would spend the night before braving the ‘red zone’ between Inchope and the Rio Save (River) region. In all honesty I had no idea how big the ‘red zone’ was or where it ended. I knew there were two armed convoys riding up and down each day. Though I had no idea where they were leaving from or what time. So in the end I decided to just gun it in my convoy of one. How bad could it possibly be right?

Well it was one of the most uncomfortable stretches on my entire trip, let me tell you that. At first it was awesome. No traffic, so quiet. Just me on my Dax enjoying the Mozambican bush. But then it just started to become a little eerie. After 300 kilometers of not seeing a single soul I simply had to stop for a break. I had pictures in my mind of armed rebel forces groups lying in wait in the bush, looking on at me taking a break right in their attack zone and thinking…WTF?



After I got back on the road an armed convoy passed me by and pushed me off the road. Thanks guys!
I eventually made it to a checkpoint where I was stopped and a very confused officer kept checking for ‘more of me’ to arrive. He asked me why I rode alone and I explained to him that I didn’t know where or when to meet the convoy riding from the north. He radioed his superior officer who radioed on ahead and after they’d cleared it with the checkpoint further ahead I was allowed to proceed. I was advised not to stop anywhere though as a convoy had been shot to pieces the previous day. Just the reassurance I needed!

After I made it past the next checkpoint at Rio Save I started noticing people going about their daily business on the side of the road again and sighed a sigh of relief. I had now made it through the final hurdle on the trip!

Bridge over Rio Save:



That night I stayed at Sunset Lodge near Inhambane. A beautiful lodge right on the beach! Though it seemed that my body had, had enough. The fall in Tanzania and the last few days’ physical, mental and emotional fatigue had caught up with me and that evening my body broke out in a fever. I spent most of the night with fighting a fever and my body aching. Then a thought hit me…’Malaria’!





The next day I’d meet up with a South African friend in Matola and told myself I just have to make it there, then I’d have myself tested. I felt a bit better the next morning though and had a really pleasant ride down towards Maputo/Matola.

I was stopped a few times by police. I did’t infringe on any traffic laws, so they just stopped me because they could. Sometimes not even saying anything…just stopping me and then waving me on again. Strange.

Then, about halfway down to Matola, the sub frame bolts on my bike broke!! I immediately knew what had happened when I felt it go. It felt like the bike simply snapped in half! I pulled over and remembered that I still had some spare bolts and then found a spare nut I’d been carrying in my handbag for over a year! Haha. Now I finally got to use it! I fixed up my bike on the side of the road (how far I’ve come, mechanically!) and carried with a smile.





Fellow South African and rider, Ken Vaughan, met up with me just outside of Matola and rode in with me. He arranged for me to stay at The Courtyard Guesthouse in town. (www.thecourtyardmoz.com) When they got to learn about my journey they offered to let me stay for free! I told Ken that I wasn’t feeling well and he took me to a clinic so I could have myself tested for malaria. The test came back negative, and I was convinced it was just pure fatigue!

That evening I was spoilt to dinner along with a group of South Africans living in Matola. On the menu? Prawns of course!!! We had a fantastic evening at a local restaurant famous for the best prawns in town and I regaled the guys with my travel stories whilst sitting with butterflies in my stomach as it was my last night before re-entering South Africa!



This was it! The final push to the finish line!