The next phase

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07/07/10

We have left the creature comforts of Kagga Kamma behind. Gone is the fire, kitchen, warm comfortable bed. Gone is a roof in fact. We are now the proud owners of a small lightweight 4 man tent and two thin air mattresses. I have never seen myself as a camper, but need must. To be fair we've not exactly been roughing it. Originally we had planned to camp every 4^th day. We then changed this to every 3^rd day when we first started burning through cash, we have camped 5 out of the last 6 days. The reason for our new found fondness of sleeping 'under canvas', is not just as a way of saving money, it only cuts cost by about 30%, but because we have been staying at some amazingly warm and homely backpackers. Places here seem to have backpacking down to a more refined art than many other places I’ve been. As I’ve mentioned with Karma Backpackers, many of the places are owner run, and you are welcomed with open arms into people's homes. The hosts are always interesting and have tons of stories and info they love sharing with you. We stopped at Robertson Backpackers for 2 days, where a roaring fire in the Moroccan room, a TV room, reading room, warm kitchen and small sheltered garden, all helped take our minds off 2 degrees C nights and mad camping seem easy. The owner was so concerned about the temperature drop one night she told us to sneak in and camp out on the sofa after everyone had gone to bed. We bought extra blankets and survived outside. 
 

We are now at a backpackers outside Plettenberg Bay. There are spectacular views across a forest and to the mountains from the garden where we've pitched our tent. There is a big log cabin lounge with fireplace and TV for the football. Earlier I sat next to the tent with the laptop on WiFi while the household pet horse grazed next to me. It has free reign of all the gardens and never wanders far. We found him halfway up the steps to reception earlier.

We have set ourselves the challenge of camping whenever we can. Last night the weather defeated us. We stopped in Buffalo Bay, a place where Nick went 10 years ago. He went for 2 days and ended up staying a month. We arrived there with 50 km winds, sheeting rain and huge crashing waves sending spray up onto the dunes where we were supposed to be camping. We paid $40 to stay in a draughty double without bathroom. Cold we can cope with, gales we can not, our flimsy cheap tent would have been ripped out from under us.

Buffalo bay is a wild windswept expanse of beach with only a small community perched on a rocky outcrop. Huge breakers crash on rocks sticking out of the sea, spewing foam into the air. In the wind and rain it's as wild as it gets, next morning in the warm sun and gentle breeze it was glorious. We went out for a walk along the beach. We were joined by the 3 Jack Russells from the backpackers.

Travelling the Garden route has been a bit of an eye opener for me. It has made me realize just how good life can be if you pick the right place to live. People have it good here. By UK standards the property is cheap; a three bed house with ocean views going from £130,000. all coastal towns are filled with beautiful unique beach villas that locals use as holiday homes. There is a great café culture and there are farmers markets and delis everywhere. There is always space and fresh air, and you are never far from a national park with hikes and adventure activities or a picnic braai site on the beach. They have an endless selection of restaurants and the food and wine culture is great. Everywhere we stop we meet locals out enjoying their country. South Africa has the longest wine route in the world. There is cheap quality wine available everywhere you go, and there is little snobbery about wine. In Robertson we found a hike that finished in a winery. You sweat it out with a demanding 9km hike before plonking down in the beautiful Van Loveren vineyard garden café, and they bring you a whole range of wines to try for free. Unlike most wineries it's a casual and informal affair where even we didn't feel under dressed with sweaty dusty clothes on. One of the four cousin owners came over to us asked us about our tastes then brought over his selection and left us to it with the bottle on the table. Obviously they expect you not to take the piss, but you can drink what you like. When some bottles are less than $2 you're unlikely to leave empty handed. You find many S. Africans going on wine tours as cheap weekends away.  One of the main elements that has made this trip so special, has been meeting all the local people where we've been staying, in the bars and restaurants, even in the supermarket. People are really open and friendly, they are all really interested in what we're doing, where we've been and what we've seen. Everybody is always really eager to recommend their own favourite places. They are just so happy to have all the tourists here. I’m not sure there are many other countries that would be quite as welcoming.

How to burn through money as fast as you can

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30/06/10

Welcome to Africa, where nothing ever goes to plan. Our much boasted about and greatly anticipated 'luxury treat' in a resort courtesy of my mother's time share hasn't really been what we were expecting. The resort is stunning, set 70 km from the nearest other tumbleweed hamlet, in beautiful stark boulderous mountains (I know I’m abusing the English dictionary with the word 'boulderous', but humour me, it fits). The chalet is huge, an 8 bed cottage with 2 storey thatched lounge and a vast stone fireplace. We have 2 outside barbecues or 'braais', one of which is set in a little sandstone cave. There are strange ornate natural rock features with splashes of rich orange across them, towering in piles all around us, vast odd shaped rocks balancing on top of each other precariously as they have done for thousands of years. You feel completely isolated here to the world outside the resort, 35 km of dirt road between you and the nearest tarmac. So isolated in fact that I gave myself the heeby jeebies the other night and had to go round looking in all the rooms and under the beds to stop me from jumping at my own shadow. We don't have TV so the idea was to read, relax, and catch up on planning the next part of the trip.

Our isolation became really apparent when I fell ill in the middle of the second night. I’d had tunnel vision and the start of a migraine all that day, and I woke in real pain at about 1.00 am. Having also had a reoccurring problem in my left eye for about 3 months, I had gone to bed the night before vowing to finally get it checked out next time we went through town. When I woke in the night I thought I was going to throw up or my brain was going to implode. Double dosing painkillers didn't dent it and we were on our way out the door to start a 300 km drive to Cape Town when I realized the pain was bearable when standing up. We decided to stay there and try and ask the resort manager in the morning if there were any nearer clinics open on a Sunday. Next morning we drove 3 hours to Worcester Medi Clinic. Expecting to be told in polite terms that I was overreacting and to go home, and for Nick to then kill me because he would have missed the England Germany match as well as had to do a six hour round trip, I was stunned when they admitted me, put a drip in my arm and gave me blood tests. To cut a painful story short; 6 drip packs, 2 jabs, one blood test, 7 blood pressure and temperature tests, 2 different doctors and a $500 bill that made me cry, and I was allowed to go home the next day. I had suffered from a cluster migraine that keeps tripping one after another. It needs steroids to break the chain. While the treatment in the hospital was really good, I can't recommend South African health care to anyone. Apart from the expense, you get discharged feeling woozy and hospitalfied and then have to trail halfway round the city going to different branches of doctors and clinics paying for all the different parts of the treatment. All you pay the hospital for is the bed.

Nick had checked into a B+B outside the hospital gates so was fresh and ready for the return 3 hour journey. As well as the squeaking steering wheel, the drivers chair has started to move alarmingly around the car. We have driven up and down the dirt track more than planned. And to make matters worse, we had to go back down it the next day to go and stay in Cape Town for a night to watch Spain Portugal, the only match in the World Cup that we had tickets for.

We arrived in Cape Town to heavy grey skies and rain. This was to be our first night camping in our shiny new and very thin tent. Thinking ourselves cunning, we set the tent up on the covered concrete veranda outside the dining room door. This way we avoided the rain and got some of the heat of the busy dining room. It was noisy but we figured it'd have to get quieter around midnight when we got back from the game.

Going to the stadium in Cape Town made me a little sorry we had not gone to more games. The whole of the city centre is lit up with an incredible buzz from all the fans and huge array of street performers. There were old lady drumming teams, junior body poppers, people on stilts following marching bands, and a random guy wandering around in a 5 ft orange hat. Nearly everyone was waving a Spain or Portugal flag, couples often opting for one of each. You could hear every accent or language dressed up in the colours of the evenings match.

The coming together of some many different people from all over the globe to support whichever game and teams they have tickets for makes the World Cup a completely different experience to any you get at a local team match. People are there for a laugh, not just to throw abuse at the opposing team. Being in a stadium where 95% of the 3 tiers participate in Mexican wave, and every 5^th person has a vuvuzela is an onslaught of every sense. 
 

We managed to get back from the football and into the hostel within 30 minutes, which is pretty good going for leaving a stadium during the World Cup. We settled down in our dry and surprisingly warm tent. Within an hour there were 20 people watching the TV full blast, chatting across the garden, smoking cigarettes around us and playing noisy board games. When they quieted down the security guard stood next to our tent holding the door open to watch the TV, still on full vol. At 3.00 am we gave up and moved our tent to a damp grassy spot further away. At 6.45 I got up, giving up on the tent because of the cold. The moral of the story is; if it looks to good to be true, then it is, and the only warm dry spot in the garden is empty for a very good reason.

Point of interest... in all our discussions with people about S. Africa there was one reacurring concern that got voiced... security. We have tried always to be sensible and be on our guard while not being too afraid. The other day we squished all our belongings ou of sight and into the boot of the car and then left it for 3 hours in a carpark. It was only as we unpacked the car later that we realized the boot isn't on central locking and had been open the whole time. A week later we worked out that one of the doors of the car doesn't lock either and we'd had an unlocked car for a week. After the hospital farce we returned and couldn't find the door keys to the chalet. When I tried the door I found it open and the keys inside in a place we didn't leave them. Dread to think how many other occasions we may have been careless and not noticed it.

A bit of luxury

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25/06/10

A new leg of the journey has begun. We have left Joburg and are now in the Cederberg Mountains 3 hours north of Cape Town. This is the swanky part of our trip.

The last night in Joburg was a bit of a treat. Having turned down Brazil Ivory Coast tickets due to not finding accommodation ($70 to pitch a tent is just taking the piss and we're not paying it), we've been fighting a loosing battle to try and find somewhere for under $100 to stay near the airport for an early morning flight. We drove through the area a few days ago to see if we could find anything cheaper than the poor selection than those on the net. One of the places we stopped at was Tunstall Farm. Here we were greeted through a heavy security gate by a gruff little cigarette clutching lady who peered at me and asked what I wanted. I figured it was a bit of a lost cause but explained our need of a cheap place with early morning airport drop. She screwed up her face at me then declared it to be 'no problem' offered us a reasonable rate and then invited us in for a beer, curtly saying 'your British, I’m British'. Her and her husband had lived out here for 30 years and still had their British accents. They were from Cheshire like us and really happy to have us in for a chat before we continued north. When we went back the night before the flight they gave us a tiny self catering cottage that we sat outside and watched the sun going down with the braai going ready for a BBQ. We also had a fire place at the bottom of the bed. It was the warmest and coziest night we've had in this country so far. It was also really nice to go and spend some time with the retired owners and listen to some of their many stories of the people and country.

We left Joburg from Lanseria airport. I’m not sure if this airport is one of the many places that big bucks were spent on in preparation for the football, but it has easily gone into my 'best airport in the world' slot. I didn't see any shops or restaurants, instead all the space is taken up by a huge lounge full of sofas, arm chairs, coffee tables, free tea and coffee counter, free WiFi and free newspapers. It's the perfect place to kill a few hours before getting on a plane. It was like getting into the comfy corner in Starbucks. Sadly we only had 15 minutes to kill.

The flight from Joburg to Cape Town was smooth. Just what I needed after two bumpy ones that had reignited all flying fears. It was a bit daunting however, to be told 30 minutes before landing, that the weather in Cape Town was 'horrible', and they were going to have to rely on autopilot to land the plane. Nothing could have prepared us for our arrival. A thick white blanket of cloud covered about half of the Western Cape. The mountains, even the small hills, stuck out clear of the cloud. We descended into the white. I had it in my head that we'd clear the cloud and have about 50 metres before we hit the runway. Judging by the shock of most of the passengers when we hit the runway in thick cloud, having descended about 20 metres, I don't think anyone was prepared. Visibility was between 300 metres. The pilots took no credit for the landing, stating it was all the auto pilot. Reassurance for even the most jittery of flyers.

At the airport we were met with a rep from Renta VW who handed us the keys to our car for the next month. It is a Golf Mark 1, that of the original batch that stopped being made in the Uk about 20 years ago. I hope it'll stand up to the riggers of long distance driving. We were left with the parting warning to listen out for funny noises and to stop immediately and call for back up if anything sounded weird. Fill me with confidence why don't you.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve said this since the Africa tour began, but today I saw some of the most spectacular scenery I’ve ever seen. The area between Cape Town and the Cederberg has to have some of the most beautiful mountain panoramas in the world, especially from the Paarl area onwards. The road runs right up to the foot of the mountains and winds round them, all the while being surrounded by green fields, stud farms, vineyards and citrus plantations. If I could move somewhere tomorrow, I’d go there. The big city life of Cape Town is easily drivable, the air is clean, the temperature is warm, and it's all lush and green. Civilized and easy living with the wilds of the mountains on your door step.

The 300 km journey took 4 hours, the last half of the journey taking about 3 hours with mountain passes and dirt roads. By the time we got to the resort the steering wheel of the cars was squeaking louder with every turn. Not sure if this is considered a funny noise or not.

Football Fever...

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24/06/10

Been a busy busy week. The little 1 litre car we hired did almost 2500 km in 10 days. From Joburg to Kestell in Northern Drakensberg, to Underberg in Southern Drakensberg (nearly the length of Lesotho), then all the way back again to north of Joburg, where we nipped between Pretoria and Rustenberg to go to football fan fests. Having sworn that we'd keep journeys short after the wasted days on the overland truck, we seem to be spending a lot of time in the car. It's very easy for visitors to South Africa to underestimate just how big the country is. As well as all the miles, I’ve currently been sucked into the first of Stieg Larsson's Millennium Trilogy and I’m finding it really hard to do anything useful with my spare time.

Before we we came back up north to get caught up in the football fever, we stayed at Sani Lodge near Underberg, Southern Drakensberg. This is a highly marketed backpackers that absolutely out does itself. We're always wary of busy popular backpackers, as it usually means damp musty and threadbare beds and lots of noise. We arrived at Sani Lodge to find comfy rooms with.... bedside lights... and extra warm blankets. There was not a soul in sight so we left our bags unlocked in the room with our name on it and hiked up the well marked trail at the back. 

Anyone who goes to this lodge will remember it fondly. It sits in a valley surrounded by the magnificent escarpment of the southern Drakensberg. The area is not as harsh as the north and the lodge's position makes it feel like it's protected in the folds of the hills. The lodge has a back terrace which bakes in the sun even as the rest of the area is cooling. This is an area I could see myself living.

Relaxing in a big comfy lounge around a huge fire that night, I regained some like for 'backpacking'. Being in this country has made us want to take the time to chat to people we meet in the places we stay, something Thailand and Roatan had jaded us a little towards, we were happy to just keep to our friends. It's nice to meet people who are travelling and enjoying their own country. We met a group of S. Africans who had driven 19 hours straight from cape Town so they could stay and watch a match, but still be on time to go on a 7 day hike in freezing weather along the top of the berg. 

After Sani Lodge we went back up to Karma Backpackers in Kestell. Some of the guide books say that going to Karma is 'like going home'. This was so true of our return, where we we welcomed with hugs, 'our room', and stimulating conversation around a big dinner table. Vera Ann makes everyone feel like family. We were sad to leave and will make every effort to go back one day. The difference between Karma backpackers and our next night's accommodation couldn't have been more pronounced. An abrupt and curt conversation was had when we tried to phone for directions, twice, and there was no warm welcome when we arrived. This small game farm is just a side business of people who run a tour company. It's clear to see where all their energy goes. It would be easy to avoid ever meeting the hosts. The rooms were nice but the big sparse kitchen was missing anywhere comfy to sit and had a big empty cold fire place. It could so easily have been made into a nice place. It was freezing at night and there weren't even any extra blankets, some people really suffered.

We stayed at Moonlight to be a little bit nearer the football. We didn't have tickets for any of the matches, but headed in for 2 days at the local fan parks. I was reluctant to waste the days to football, but our first trip was to watch South Africa and France. If there was ever a way to experience football, then this was it. Big screens; so I can actually see the ball, replays; so I don't always miss the interesting bits like usual, and a whole hoard of S. African supporters jumping up and down, dancing on the tables and blowing various things even knowing they were out of the World Cup. It was a great match with great atmosphere and support, a credit to South Africa and all the fans. The people here have such hope for what this event has done in uniting the entire country. Lets hope that the feeling continues when all the footballers have gone home.

Exploring the 'Berg'

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17/06/10

Arrived back in South Africa with a bump. Smoky windy Joburg at 4.30, sun already going down. 6 degrees Celsius outside. After balmy Zanzibar it was a shock to the system, all the clothes that have been annoyingly weighing the rucksack down for the last 2 months, we are now very grateful for. Due to the nightmare that is the World Cup, we can't stay anywhere near Joburg and we had to fight our way round an unfamiliar city in rush hour traffic. Our hope of making it 75km south of the city before dark soon passed. Instead we got to enjoy an amazing sunset while sitting on the ring road. At this time of year there are grass fires burning everywhere and the sky is dirty and hazy. All land owners are required to burn fire brakes along their boundaries before the dry season makes wild fire risk too great. Sadly air pollution always makes the most dramatic sunsets.

Strangely, we made it, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, to Stryfontien Game Farm. We phoned ahead and were told there was no reception to check in at, but Jimmy, 'the black man in charge', would be waiting to show us to our room. When we arrived another guy was waiting near the entrance to take us to Jimmy and gestured for us to follow him. He then proceeded to run, in the dark, in front of our car quite a distance through the game farm. With the history of the country, it all seemed very wrong. Jimmy was waiting at the hut with a 'braai' bonfire going. The room was freezing so I sat outside wrapped in a huge blanket next to the fire with a glass of Amarula, while Nick desperately tried to tune the TV for football. With freezing extremities and scaring myself silly at every cracking branch in fear of leopard attack, it was a great way to start the South African part of the trip.

Next day, once we had managed to force ourselves out of bed and into the frost (it was -2 and the coldest day of the year so far), we drove south to Kestell in the northern region of the Drakensberg mountains. We stopped at Karma Backpackers. Karma is a lovely home from home place run by a sparky lady called Vera Ann. She and her 2 cats and dogs welcomed us into her home and allowed us to take over her kitchen and private office to use the TV to watch football. It was a lovely place to stay, and it was nice to cook our own food for a change. Inviting Vera Ann to join us for dinner meant that we had great company and learnt a lot about the area.

The houses out here don't seem to have any central heating or insulation against the cold. They are heated only by fires and the occasional wood stove. In the cold times of year there will be one room in the house that remains above freezing. Northern Drakensberg is one of the coldest places in the country. When we went to bed we had 2 wool blankets, a duvet, sleeping bags, liners, thermals and a hot water bottle. Hardly moved under the weight of it all.

Karma is about 50 km away from the Royal Natal Park and we drove up towards Sentinel Peak. We hiked 2 hours along at the edge of the berg. With the hot sun and cloudless sky it was an amazing sun burning day. The views were as good as any I’ve seen, and it easily equals Nepal for dramatic scenery. South Africa has more than it's far share of plateau topped mountains, rising straight up in formidable and largely impenetrable sheer rock faces. To climb them you either scramble up through damp and slippery gulleys or clamber precariously up tall fixed metal ladders. I wimped out of both and enjoyed the view from below. We were already at 2900 metres.

Near Kestell there was a huge township area. Although the houses were reasonably solid the poverty in the area was really evident. Education is poor, if not non existent. People who are born there stay there, there is very little opportunity for a way out. We stopped at a supermarket near the township, and although it was about 4 degrees C and 4 hours until the South Africa vrs Uruguay match, there were herds of people congregating outside in yellow Bafana- Bafana T-shirts to watch the TV's outside one of the shops. The atmosphere was great, regardless of the cold. Everyone here, football crazy or not, has become resigned to the World Cup obsession. We arrived at another guest house today and the hosts apologised because they had to go out. They gave us the keys to their house and told us that they'd lit the fire and left the TV on the footie channel with beers in the fridge. Hospitality in this country is second to non.

Lazy days

13/06/10

Sitting outside our room with the tide swelling up onto the beach 5 metres away. It's late afternoon and the daily exodus of white sailed fishing dhows is heading across the horizon and out for a night's fishing. Our en-suite room with two double beds is $27 a night and probably as cheap and as close to the beach as you can get in Zanzibar. With a breakfast of eggs, fresh fruit, and warm baked bread included it's an absolute bargain in African terms. Stuff is so much more expensive than you'd expect from a continent with so much poverty. We spoilt by our Asian standards. We have now hit a budget wall and drink little more than water and share a lunch. For dinner we have found 2 restaurants that have fresh fish bbq or pizza and fajitas for $4 each. The other places break our budget.

Possibly the best sunset I've ever seen. First night back on the island and it was never close to as good again.

Money has influenced our days on the island, we've not really taken advantage of all there is on offer. We talked about the 'Spice Tour' and kayaking in coral coves, but even the diving got axed from 8 dives to only 2. Instead we are making a list of all the things we're going to do when we come back one day. It's also nice to be doing things on our own schedule. On the bus we were constantly up early and off somewhere new. Now it's nice to have no plans. The most excitement we had was watching South Africa vrs Mexico. That and adopting two local beach dogs and taking them for a walk down the coast at low tide. Thought we'd have to carry them back when the tide turned quickly. Thankfully we didn't as one was big and the other dog had ADHD. 

On the beach you pass Masai herders. Many are trying to sell you stuff, while others are on holiday or visiting the island for extra school. All of them we have spoken to have come from Arusha where it's a lot colder. In Arusha their rich red robes are made from blankets, in Zanzibar they change to Masai beachwear. This basically consists of the same patterned fabric just made from light cloth. 

It's winter here now, and we have rain and storm clouds every day. This doesn't bother us too much, there's enough sun for burning and it's nice and cool in the evening. Also it means the island isn't heaving as it is the rest of the year. It does however mean that the sea isn't quite as flat and blue as it is the rest of the year. We'll have to go back for the ultimate beach pictures.

 

 

One really cool thing we got to see when we went down to Stone Town for the night was how local guys entertain themselves in the evening. We were walking down the waterfront when we heard lots of cheering and clapping. There was a group of around 20-30 young lads doing acrobatic jumps of the wall of the waterfront into the water 10 ft below. They took a long run up and then launched themselves over a small wall, in relay or pairs, into the water trying to 'out jump' each other. We found out from the large crowd of locals watching that they do this every time the tide is high enough in the evenings. This display made an otherwise unremarkable trip to Stone Town worthwhile. The long haired bearded rasta wearing a floor length bed-shirt and doing somersaults was worth the visit alone. It's a far more macho way for guys to show off than hanging around on street corners in hoodies looking threatening. 

Nick's photo

Killing time...

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10/06/10 

We are now in Zanzibar and have enjoyed doing very little over the last few days. It's nice to be on our own schedule now. After the tour ended we stopped in Arusha for 24 hours to regroup and find out where in our ever increasing number of bags we had packed all the little bits and pieces we thought we'd need for the trip, but actually haven't seen in at least a month. We also needed to cure our internet withdrawal. Arusha is an ugly hectic African town, although we were there on a Sunday and the streets were ghostly quiet,  apart from the tourist tat shops being open and the street vendors that collar any white person and sell the same stuff as the shops. They find the most imaginative ways to strike up a conversation and guilt you into buying something. When the tour group dropped us in the town and then headed off for Nairobi, I left Nick for 15 minutes while I found a bed for the night. By the time I got back he'd already been suckered into buying a Swahili phrasebook and was part way through buying an overpriced painting. 

We had hoped to get a room with a little luxury, mainly a bathroom you didn't have to dress to walk to.  Soon realized that bathrooms were well out of our budget and ended up at a very dingy YMCA. Our standards have dropped so much since leaving Thailand that 2 hard beds with mosquito nets, dirty draughty glass windows, a bare concrete floor and a grimy toilet 15 metres down the corridor actually felt quite luxurious. Unsurprisingly, we stayed in Arusha less time than originally planned, long enough for half a day on the internet, and to get ourselves on a flight to Zanzibar. We were meant to catch a bus, spend the night in Dar, then take the 2 hour ferry to get there. The journey on the road on the way up was so bad, and the ferry so rough that we thought the extra $70 on the flight was well worth it. Next day we arrived at the airport an hour before the flight and were told check in wasn't open. 40 minutes later and they were still waiting for 'the man' to arrive. 15 minutes before the flight he pulled up, hopped out his car, strolled over, gave us our boarding passes, and then walked us through 'customs' to our 12 seater plane. We were joined by another English couple who had been bumped to our flight when the plane they were on changed destinations at the last minute. Typical Africa.

Small planes are my idea of hell. There's too great a proportion of air verses metal around you, and being able to see out the front leaves nothing to the imagination. I was terrified making our way down the runway. We got there, started to turn, the pilots looked and fiddled with the console, turned again, and then told us we couldn't take off as there was a problem with the breaks. At least I was reassured that even in Africa they make sure everything is working before leaving the ground. It took us nearly 4 hours of sitting around before we left the ground.

Flying in an aircraft that is that light and small is not for those with a fear of flying. You feel every gust and get buffeted around like a feather. Coming in to landing I could see the runway in front swinging like a metronome. Not sure I’ve ever been more scared in a plane. Nick was happily oblivious and was taking pictures out the window. As to whether the hour and half flight is better a 12 hour bumpy bus + night in Dar + 2 hour ferry, well the jury's still out. 

Zebratastic

06/06/10

Today is the last day of the Africa in Focus tour. Today is the day we say goodbye to all the people we've been living in each others pockets with for 6 weeks. Some people we'll most likely never get the chance to meet up with again, but hopefully we'll see some again. Today is the day our real adventure begins, this is Africa, and we no longer have the hand holding of our crew. Now we have to organise for ourselves.

Fittingly it's been a dramatic finale to the trip. As it has been observed by all involved, this has been a trip of two halves. The first part smooth, organised and with a huge amount of activity, an adventure we'd all planned for. The second an endurance mission of a whole other kind, all be it a more 'African' one.

The view across to the rim of Ngorogoro Crater

It was originally planned for us to go to the Ngorogoro Crater for the last day and a half of the trip. As a gesture of goodwill from the company owner, to say thank you for our patience with all the problems (or perhaps to stop a hoard of complaints), he arranged for us to have an overnight stay in the Serengeti as well. Ngorogoro Crater is a huge dormant volcano that caved in thousands of years ago. It used to be the height of Kilimanjaro but is now just a rim that is 26km wide that drops 600 metres steeply to a 12 km wide crater floor. You make your way down into the crater in safari jeeps along a steep and winding dirt road. One road in, one road out. For our descent we had to go through the clouds, visibility dropped to about 5 metres at times. This was a little terrifying as Masai tribesmen would stand on the road, and donkeys and hyenas wander in the path of vehicles. Our driver was reckless and the knowledge that you are never far from an invisible plunging edge made it a pretty hair-raising ride.
We dropped through the clouds and down into the crater. Even with the poor visibility seeing the inside of the crater around you is incredible. To see it on a clear day must be amazing, but then again, like all things that rise dramatically into the sky, it's no doubt nearly always ringed with clouds. As you wind your way down the sides of the crater you can just make out herds of wildebeest and zebra. Having been on a few safaris the crater didn't really have anything new to show us, apart from our first male lion. He didn't really count though as he was sleeping far from the track and was difficult to make out. The crater was impressive for its uniqueness, a lake glinting in the sun, animals grazing all around, all isolated from the outside world by the towering walled rim. Nature at it's most dramatic.

From the crater we continued north for 2 hours into the Serengeti. It took me the first hour of the drive to recover from our ascent out of the crater. Our driver tried to kill us twice in the first 10 mins. He grounded the car on a hairpin bend, let it roll back to the edge until a number of us were screaming for mercy, then nearly tipped the car over when getting stuck in the dirt on the bend for a second time. He then drove the rest of the way with his wheels as close to the edge as possible, leaving all the space on the non precipitous side. Then he spent so much time chatting to his passenger that he once nearly drove us off the edge.
The Serengeti is everything you'd ever imagine in an African safari. In Swahili Serengeti means 'endless land'. Now is migration time and wildebeest and zebra are joining into huge herds before they follow the rains north. It was all the stuff we've seen before, but in greater numbers. At one point we drove through hundreds, if not thousands of zebras. They were scaring themselves silly and making a hell of a racket.

It's a miracle we saw anything at all as we drove across the plains, our driver continuing with his questionable driving sense by going 95 km an hour along a dirt road. No idea how we managed to see the more common animals, let alone some lions and a leopard. For the lions we broke the game reserve rules and drove off the road to see our first pride resting on a raised grassy knoll. When we saw the leopard we'd given up all hope of seeing one on the trip and were on our way back to camp after our last game drive. We saw about 15 safari jeeps parked all over the place. In one of the trees close to the road a leopard was sleeping off the night;s exertion with his kill hanging a few branches below where he'd dragged it.

The Serengeti bush camp was one of the most memorable places on our African tour so far. There were no barriers or fences. We were just in the middle of the open plains. In the evening a giraffe wandered over to eat a bush about 10 metres from our tent. It's only when you stand under a giraffe that you realize exactly how tall they are. At night we went to sleep to the sound of a few hundred wildebeest grunting and grazing just beyond the toilet.

Hakuna Matata...

02/06/10

One of the many varied faces of Tanzania

It has been 5 days since I’ve had time to write. The best time for doing that is when we’re sitting on the bus and we haven’t done that in a while. The mountains of Malawi and Tanzania have officially killed Benji. Even the mechanics at Mercedes in Dar Es Salam haven’t been able to fix it. After we left on the Romping Rocket minibus they managed to fix ii briefly before it broke down on a main road running right through the centre of a game park. With the help of lots of friendly villagers they got themselves to Dar and into the Mercedes workshop. Apparently it’s common for vehicles to go into African workshops and come out having had all the good parts discreetly stolen and replaced with older ones. At Mercedes every time either John or Ebron went into the workshop they got patted down on the way out. We had to stop off there and collect our tents and say an early goodbye to two thirds of our crew. They have to stay with the truck while Gareth carries on with us. It is up to them to get the truck ready for its longer and more challenging return journey.

Tanzania is an incredible place. It really is the Africa I’ve always imagined. With Mt Kilimajaro and the Serngetti planes, it has dramatic and majestic mountains that skirt the edges of flat and fertile grasslands. This is Lion King country. The people here seem more proud and confident than others when faced with a bus full of mazungus (white people). Brightly dressed women in head scarves carry heavy loads on their heads, Masai tribesmen with varieties of rich red cloth draped around them sit and laugh on their mobile phones with trainers on, holding their spears at their sides. The women here are beautiful. Tall, graceful and elegent. As well as the bright wraps many of them wear long black dresses and full headdresses. These plain outfits are surprisingly flattering, with only dark kohl rimmed eyes to be seen.

Some of the amazing beach scenes on Zanzibar

 
As well as ‘Lion King Country’, Tanzania has huge variety in landscape. We have just driven through an area that was pure ‘Hawaii’. Sharp mountains covered in lush vegetation plunging to a palm tree forest floor. Then there is Zanzibar, the feather in the cap, adding floury powder white beaches and turquoise crystal wasters to Tanzania’s tourist pulling repertoire. Zanzibar has the best of many worlds. It has the beauty of the Caribbean, the style of Morocco, and the laid back attitude of Africa. The locals greet all with ‘Jambo’ and give up on sales pitch hastles with relative ease, leaving you with ‘hakuna matata’. It is a stunning stunning place and I can’t wait to go back for a week of chill at the end of the tour.

The only bad thing about Zanzibar was the return ferry trip to the mainland. Got so seasick that my arms cramped up, my jaw started to lock and my hands went green. Glad to be away from the boat and back on a bus, even if it’s 5.30 pm and we’ve still got 300km to go.

Death of Benji...

28/05/10

The next day... We have travelled 35 km in 5 hours. We have stopped and started again 5 times. It is 3.30 and we have 350 km to go today. An integral part of the engine has just been sent off in a public minibus full of strangers to be fixed and returned on a later bus. Our guide and chef hiked off up the road hours ago to hitch into the next town and find us alternative transport. Not only do we need to get 350 km to our next camp, but we also need to make it the 600 km to Dar Es Salam tomorrow. We have packed our bags and are leaving John and the truck. We have spent the last nine days breaking down, sitting around at the roadside, leaving in the dark, arriving in the dark, and basically trying to keep calm in the frustration of the journey. The aim of the trip has changed. We are no longer trying to spot wildlife and experience African culture, we are simply trying to carry a broken truck across a very large continent.
….
It’s 10.30. Another long, long day. Just arrived in camp. Not the camp we were supposed to sleep at mind. It’s not the camp where we had a meal prepared and waiting for us. That camp is some 70 km back in the other direction and we passed it about 2 hours ago, where hopefully the staff have now had a nice bonus meal that they had ready prepared for us no shows. How nice it would have been to stop at 8.30, eat and get an early night. Instead we have to arrive at an unknown camp, wake the owners, and pray they have rooms or set tents. We are now ‘travelling light’ and have left our tents on the bus.
We left our Benji the truck at 4.30, having managed 30 km of our 390 km day. Gareth commandeered a big minibus to take us and all our stuff the next 900 km to Dar Es Salam. Dan quickly named our new minibus the ‘romping rocket’. It is manned by to locals who drive it at breakneck speed with African music blaring out and drowning any possible conversation. With another great African sunset behind us and the most incredibly vast full moon rising in a lilac sky to the right of us, it feels like we’re really doing it African style. To be fair though, our bus is built for 26 people, and there are only 12 of us on it. To do it African style we’d need at least 60 more people on here. Earlier Gareth and Ebron the chef stopped a minibus on it’s way into town. Much to their disbelieve they were herded onto a 12 seater bus that held 30 people for the 20km ride into the next town. As Busman told us all those weeks ago in Namibia “In Africa a vehicle is never full”.
Today has been the most testing day of the journey. Sitting at a roadside for over 6 hours, being subjected to ‘Heal the World’ and ‘Words’ blasting out on a loop for 6 hours (bad dated western music soon replaced the African music), getting lost in the dark and wasting 2 more hours, and having to say goodbye indefinitely to two of our three crew. I never considered for a moment that I would be the first to flip out on the trip, but today I came really close. Frustrations are running so high that even Dan, our most optimistic traveler became despondent. 600 km day tomorrow.

There has been no photo taking on this part of the trip.

The rot sets in...

27/05/10

It started out as any other normal day… as normal as it gets out here. Already tired and grouchy due to the night with ants, I wasn’t amused when our “fixed” truck broke down after 30 minutes. We stopped for an hour, having lost power and rolled downhill and stopped partly in a ditch, then set off revving hard. Soon after this we reached a queue of trucks snaking up the hill. We powered past them as fast as our dying truck could manage…a right ripping speed of about 20 km an hour, and onwards towards a huge lorry that was stuck in the middle of the road and blocking our view. The road was in really bad condition and full of clay. With the heavy rains that morning the road had become a wheel spinning quagmire of a car trap. We made it level with the other truck before we ground to a halt and started to slide back into it. There must have been around a hundred locals standing around and clambering up around the sides of the mud. With remarkable speed and efficiency a group of local guys gathered and produced a rope. They attached this to the front of the truck while we all clambered off into the mud. At this point I still didn’t really believe I was going to see what I was going to see.
Watching twenty men and all the guys off our truck pull/push the 45 ton truck uphill through the slippery mud really had to be seen to believed. I struggled to watch as Nick had decided to position himself right next to the sideways slipping, mud slinging back wheel, with only his flipflops for traction. Many people were barefoot. How someone didn’t lose their footing and end up under the truck I don’t know.
Incredibly they made it the 50m to the top where we gave the helpers the spare cash we had available (about $80) and they erupted into huge cheers. We then gave a lift to a local guy whose car was stuck, into the next town where he was going for a job interview. It was only then that we found out from him that the very same men who helped us get up the hill, had been out the night before damaging the road to make it impossible for vehicles to pass unaided. Doing this whenever it rains is how they make their living. Annoying, but enterprising. I was still grateful nonetheless. A tour group had had to camp there the week before, waiting for the ground to dry out.
Our journey continued up into the mountains. With the breakdowns, mud challenge, and slow hill climbing pace, it was decided that we wouldn’t stop for lunch and would grab snacks on route. We crossed the border into Tanzania with the truck making new noises of distress every kilometer. It was late and we had 70 km to go. We made it 10 km further before the pipe to the compressor snapped and we lost all brake pressure. John, Gordon and Dan stayed out in the rain for an hour trying to fix the pipe with duct tape, cable ties and wire. Having a steep winding decent on dark wet roads ahead of us nobody was really to keen to test this repair job. We made it 10m before it blew. The rain was torrential, there was nowhere to set up camp and we prepared sandwiches in our seats for dinner. Work continued on the bus and at 10.30 we were told it was fixed enough to get us to the next town. There was then a long discussion between all on board as to the merits of talking the hill with the fix verses the sleeping on the bus where we were. Surely it’d be easier to deal with in daylight hopefully without rain. We were eventually convinced that it was ‘reasonably’ safedue to the accumulating pressure tank (in non mechanical speak this means…not quite instant death when the pipe bursts going down a hill). The whole idea terrified me, but I actually slept the whole journey and woke when we bounced into the hotel carpark at midnight, the pipe having burst 30 metres up the road. Our expensive hotel upgrade cost us $30 and not having to put the tent up and down in the rain was worth every penny.

Chilling at Kande...??

27/05/10

Welcome to Africa. This has been one of the most insane and testing 24 hours I’ve had. Sitting on the bus in a hotel car park feeling very jaded, and very ready to leave the truck. Yesterday we left Malawi after a 3 night stay on the shore of Lake Nyassa, although it was a small miracle that we made it there. 100 km from Kande Beach the truck temperature gauge failed, upon investigation John found that the compressor for the breaks had sheared off its mounting and was swinging around inside the engine breaking stuff. It took him about an hour to fix this. We eventually set off with a piece of wood wedging the compressor in place. It was a bit of a wild ride into camp as the revs had to stay above a certain level to reduce the vibration and avoid shattering the wood and sending splinters through the engine. We rough roaded it at high speed down the 2km bouncy track before we screeched to a halt and the engine stuttered and died. It was an impressive enough entrance to bring out the other truck drivers and camp owner to see what all the noise was about. John and a whole collection of other people with good intentions and some novel solutions spent about 40 of the next 48 hours under the truck.

Kande Beach is a mecca for overland trucks, and while it is beautiful and spacious, it has parties every night with whooping fancy dressed teenagers running around the camp at all hours. Been there, done it, would rather they stayed in the bar and let me sleep. Yes, I’m officially decrepit. We got a few uninterrupted hours each night. The last night we finally managed ro get one of the cute beach fromt huts. That night the party was ‘magnifique’ ….crescendos of noise to beat all noise. Combine that with a hut that had a midnight ant infestation so bad I ended up with ants in my ears and up my nose, and I went off in desperation to try and sort out putting our tent up on my own. Much to my extreme frustration the lockers were all bolted and I had to go back to bed after a small private tantrum and suffer being crawled over. I got about one hour sleep that night. It was the only time in the entire trip that I was grateful for a 5.30 breakfast.

Other than the noise and the smaller wildlife, Kande Beach was fantastic. We went on a 2 hour horse riding village tour that took us at a leisurely pace past waving kids and choirs singing and clapping in churches for midweek practice. We got to wade through a 4ft deep reed filled flood plane and then finished off with a bareback swim in the lake before sunset. It’s a lot of fun but very painful if you’re unlucky enough to be sitting on an extremely narrow ex-racehorse. The next day we went for a dive in the lake. Lake Nyassa is huge and with the incoming wind it has waves big enough for body boarding. Getting the small 15 horse power RIB out through the waves was fun. The dive was nothing special, apart from being our first dive at altitude. We went round a small island made of boulders. There are sunken canoes, trees, and even an old VW jeep. For the excitement level of the dive it would probably have been best to stay on dry land as Nick managed to snap his mask as he entered the water, and then my underwater housing flooded and my camera died… not bothered about the camera, have more concerns for the memory card and the irreplaceable pictures.

A few days after leaving we heard that very sadly one of the Dutch convoy of football supporters who had driven all the way down from Holland, drowned in strong current in the lake at Kande Beach. How incredibly sad to have something so bad happen on a trip filled with hope and joy.