Africa’s crossroads

International border crossings have become standard practice for us now and generally pass without incident or effort. It was with this complacency that we floated across the Zambezi River – on a platform of questionable buoyancy – toward an area of the world that can probably be considered as expert-level border crossing. Standing in Botswana, with Zimbabwe to our left, Namibia to our right and Zambia directly behind us, the passport stamps were flowing thick and fast and the currency touts seemed to pounce whenever we paused to get our bearings. This situation ultimately saw us entering three countries within sixty minutes; the final of which involved a short boat ride to what turned out to be the surprise package of Impalila Island, located at the very eastern tip of Namibia. In a much anticipated visit, Fran’s parents had kindly made the trip from South Africa to introduce us to this area, which would have otherwise gone unnoticed.

Crossing into Botswana.

Finding our way.

Our days of rest on this trip are generally spent fixing things, washing things or tending to admin and usually leave very little time for much else. Thankfully while at Impalila this was not at all the case. In addition to the invaluable catch-up with family news, trying (in vain) to summarise the last nine months of our lives, and enjoying the abundant wildlife, we also indulged in the activity for which the area is famed: Tiger fishing (although our party of four certainly experienced varying degrees of success in this regard). Riding through Southern Africa it is easy to see that one is spoilt for choice in this region when it comes to national parks and areas of natural beauty in which to allocate your time, but overlooking the serene setting of Impalila Island would have been an error.

Elephant spotting:easy

A tranquil morning, but limited success for the women.

An Impalila Island highlight: a pretty substantial 2,000 year-old Baobab tree.

The planned route after leaving the Island was through Chobe National Park (in Botswana) towards the Namibian border. However, upon reaching the park gate it became apparent that this was not a road commonly taken by cyclists. Despite our protests and pleads to ride through, when the opposing argument included that ‘many lions and other animals, make it not safe for you’, our stance became somewhat weakened as we slowly retreated to Plan B. This unfortunately involved our first major backtrack of the trip – to Zambia – which in turn, meant floating once more across the Zambezi.

Sunset over Chobe National Park.

Back to Zambia.

Finally, in some bicycle news, one of our rides has unfortunately been operating as little more than a single-speed for the last 500km. And not a single-speed in the cool hipster sense of the word, rather more in the exhausting, heart-attack-inducing sense. As such, the bike shop which apparently waits only a few hundred kilometres away cannot arrive soon enough.

The two Queens

Queen Victoria did a pretty solid job at securing a legacy for herself, what with all those lakes, stations, mountains, cities and concert halls named in her honour. She must have been particularly pleased with herself though, the day she found out that she had also bagged naming rights on the waterfalls. Victoria Falls lies on the Zambezi River between Zambia and Zimbabwe and – although there are probably a few Canadians that might disagree – it would be hard to imagine a more awesome way in which water could possibly fall. For our entire journey through Zambia, despite encountering overwhelmingly pleasant and helpful people along the way, we couldn’t help but feel that this was a country lacking a main event. The Falls well and truly filled this gap, and it’s easy to see why Dr. Livingstone would have got so excited by the whole ordeal.

The highlight.

Looking ridiculous is a prerequisite for visiting Victoria Falls.

However, this Natural Wonder of the World was somehow easily upstaged by the company with whom we enjoyed it. One of the drawbacks of this trip for us has been the long absence of family and friends, particularly during some of the more trying times.  Because of this, our arrival at the Falls was counted down toward like a child does so before Christmas, and for a very good reason, as we were spending the weekend with the closest of close friends – the only disappointment of the whole affair being that we couldn’t carry her away with us in a pannier when we parted company. Throw in some outrageous hospitality from a fabulous woman who appeared to be living in Mick Jagger’s house, and what resulted was a weekend that removed us from our usual routine to provide a brief reminder of normality, in a setting that was anything but.

Someone very special turned up. And then we all cried.

Mick’s house on the banks of the Zambezi.

It’s all so fabulous.


Stormy outlook

Something we had been particularly boastful of until recently was that during the first seven months of this trip we had experienced only seven days of rain. However, it seems that the rainy season of central Africa is so called for a very good reason. As a result, our otherwise uneventful kilometres through Zambia have been spent mainly guessing when we’re going to get wet and exactly how wet that might be – it is a game as unpleasant as it sounds and doesn’t seem to improve with frequency.

There’s been quite a lot of this.

For the avoidance of doubt, that’s a massive storm cloud behind.

In addition to some menacing storm clouds, Zambia has also provided us a fairly diverse range of people to share some time with. We have been hosted by Moses, a local padre who is part-way through building his extended family home. We have shared breakfast with the committed owners of Shiwa Ng’andu (or Africa House) who are working to maintain their family legacy in Zambia which dates back two generations to a quite remarkable grandfather – Stewart Gore-Brown – who, among other things, was a key player in the independence movement of this country. We have stayed at some charming (and some not so charming) guesthouses, mixed for an evening with former Zimbabwean – now Zambian – farmers, and even been housed for a night by a foreign missionary and seven of their ten children. We’ve seen a reasonable cross-section of what makes this country tick and one recurring topic of conversation has been the issues that have blighted progress here over the last century, and more crucially, what lies ahead for the country (and for the entire continent).

Moses and family.

Incredibly, only 70% of available offspring shown.

The impressive Shiwa Ng’andu.

Where some have absolute optimism that this is indeed Africa’s decade and the tide is turning after what has been a troubled fifty years, others see a much bleaker side and give a rather depressing outlook.  An interesting fact which gave us some context to the debate though, was that upon independence in 1964 the new president of Zambia inherited a country of less than 100 university graduates, less than 1,000 high school graduates, and a national debt in the tens-of-millions of dollars, handed down by those gracious British colonialists.  That is to say, although the laughable levels of corruption, the rigged elections and the former (and some current) reprehensible leaders make for easy targets in this part of the world, it seems clear that it wasn’t exactly a level playing field to start with. The more we see of this continent, the more outrageously complex the problems (and the conversations) become, but given the hand that many of these countries were dealt in the twentieth century, there has to be at least some recognition of the progress that has been made since then. Particularly in light of what we have witnessed in Zambia.

As for the future, perhaps Bono can help.

Enjoying the dry times.

Contemplating Africa through the medium of a bag of crisps.


The untold stories

It has been brought to our attention that this blog is perhaps presenting a fairly rose-tinted view of our last eight months. Therefore, in the interest of unbiased reporting and to show what lies behind the smiles and the sunsets, we have compiled a series of photos which should illustrate the somewhat less glamorous side of cycling from China to Africa.

Back to basics: bread, water and bikes have been our staples.

Not usually a fussy drinker, but the homemade Tajikistan brew was not to our liking.

The floor is often preferable to the bed.

With a limited wardrobe, all fashion sense was discarded early on.

The reason communism failed: an ex-soviet en suite bathroom.

Uzbekistan was hot! Taking a post-lunch nap under a bus shelter.

There is simply no greater (nor more widely available) refreshment.

Bike rebuild in Istanbul.

Language barriers occasionally require a more hands-on approach.

You know that storage room behind a hotel reception…. our first night in Egypt.

Finding a pesky thorn.

Another unsatisfactory breakfast.

Fire up the bedroom stove, again.

Beans for lunch and beans for dinner. Hope you like beans if you’re heading to Sudan.

Who would have ever thought that camping in a thorn field would result in multiple punctures?

Low key birthday celebrations this year.

‘Hotel’ rooms: there have been some heart-sinking moments.

Pursuit of cash in Africa has been a challenge: queuing for another empty ATM.

A familiar sight on rest/laundry day.

The washing Wife.

Don’t drop the soap… loo and shower combo.

The simple life: our luggage for the year.