Ramble On - Luke, Brad and Kelly take on Africa

News from Brad

2008-02-15T22:56:00.002-08:00

Warm water! So we are in Namibia and what a difference a hot shower makes. For the first time in weeks I feel absolutely clean, I even applied deodorant and wore an unused shirt. Come on ladies! It is definitely a pleasant feeling to be in Namibia, the familiar landmarks of Pick ‘n Pay, the healthy option of Windhoek lager and of course the semi-luxurious setting in which we find ourselves this evening all add to the relaxing environment. Our room has air-conditioning. But I suppose what sets it apart from previous accommodation is the fact that it has a door, walls, and a roof and is not made out of canvas. I do enjoy camping (I am an intrepid and extremely hardcore traveller remember) but the joy of a mattress and bed is quite fantastic at present. Bearing in mind that my inflatable mattress no longer inflates and the past two nights have rendered my back, hips and neck intimate companions with the hardened ground.

Enough complaining, but would it really be fun without it?

Victoria Falls. I am fortunate enough to have witnessed the marvel of this natural wonder twice in my life now, and it is truly quite surreal to experience it. I am aware that the next few lines will sound cliché so just bear with me. The falls have some sort of inexplicable ability to leave one in a state of humility, contentedness, and generally overwhelmed all at once, whilst not really having adequate means of expressing oneself. I admit to at times wanting to weep, yet simultaneously being gripped with random bouts of joyful laughter. To some of you this may merely indicate my tendencies towards mild mental insanity, and perhaps it is, but to witness such a spectacle is quite remarkable. I was all at once gripped with the desire to grab a random passer-by, propose marriage and conceive our first child right on the edge of a precipitous cliff-face with the forcefully fresh water raining down upon us. Oh what desirable romanticism. Unfortunately, the only female passers-by were either old Germans or overweight Eastern Europeans.

But on a serious note, it really is a terribly beautiful and romantic place where one feels comfortingly content with life, hopeful and inspired. I strongly advise anyone who has the means to get to Vic Falls to do so. Of course it is not all beauty and joyous experiences. At one stage Luke and Kelly had to physically restrain me from violently beating a copper bracelet salesman. He was admittedly the 21st person to try and peddle his wares, and whilst my general ambassador status has greatly diminished, what catharsis the near beating offered.

The fun aside, if I may wax sentimental here. We all know how difficult it is for men to be sincere and emotional without alcohol but here it is anyway. This trip has really been a wonderful experience to share with two spectacular men. I have seen such marvelous characteristics in these travelling companions of mine that are so admirable and indeed offer a grand example which to emulate. Brigette and Justine, you have wonderful, intelligent and compassionate men who are going to be amazing fathers. Don’t let them know I said that… It is way too unmanly.

I have seen some incredible things along the way, told some violently non-pc jokes, eaten some wonderful meals, encountered some dreadfully unhygienic toilets, battled numerous mosquitoes and come up smiling with two solid geezers by my side. Osm.

Hot showers, cold Windhoek

2008-02-15T22:56:00.001-08:00

We crossed into Namibia today, via the Katima border crossing. We are now officially in the Caprivi Strip – formerly a hotbed of rebel activity, but since 2002 a peaceful and vibrant place. We’ve found a lodge right on the river, and for the first time in three weeks I enjoyed a hot shower. Tonight we will all sleep on proper beds too. I think I may top off the experience with a rump steak – some of Namibia’s finest I’m sure.

Kel has just been fishing on the Zambezi and managed to catch two Tigers. Brad and I spent some time chatting with a local guy who works in Windhoek. We sat sipping cold Windhoek Lager on a deck overlooking the Zambezi, watching the sun go down. I love Namibia. More news will follow soon…

News from the front

2008-02-15T22:56:00.000-08:00

It’s Luke here. It’s been a few tough days of travel with two exceptional highlights. The one being the splendor of the Vic Falls in full flood, the other – a romantic valentines lunch with Brad and Kel at an Ocean Basket in Livingstone.

We left Malawi with mixed emotions. Excitement for what was ahead, but also a dose of sadness that we were leaving the comfort and beauty of the Lake. Having stayed in the same place for some time we had the chance to get to know many interesting people, and the camp dog who we fondly named ‘Necktie’. We gave him the name because he had recently been caught in a snare when roaming around the village. His neck had a massive gash in it that looked lethally infected. We quickly started him on a dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics (thanks again Dad) and the wound improved as the days went by. He spent every evening next to our campfire.

The day before we left the Lake we embarked on a marathon kayak around one of the islands. My shoulders are still stiff from the many hours of paddling. At one point Brad and I (who shared a two man kayak) stopped paddling for a break. We were far from the shore and no other boats were nearby. The silence was tangible and at first unnerving. We both appreciated the glorious few moments of sheer calm, bobbing gently on giant mass of water feeling as if we were the only two people in the universe.

In the evening I took a walk through the village. The air was thick with humidity mixed with the smells and sounds of evening meals being prepared on open fires. Nearly every person I walked passed smiled and waved. Eventually I came to the end if the village where I came across a WWF funded fish farm – an attempt to offset the over-fishing of a species of fish known as ‘Chambo’. I met a local man who explained to me how the farm works. We also got chatting about the politics in Malawi and he explained to me that the new president had misled him. He told me that the president had promised the people of Malawi enough maize for many years. He claimed he had it stored in warehouses across the country. He also happens to be married into the Mugabe family. Allegedly the stocks of maize have now been sent across the border to his in-law, no doubt to be used as a political tool – vote Zanu or face starvation.

We left early the next day, after a thorough pack and inspection of the car. We sat in silence for longer than usual as the Landy grumbled along the winding dirt track out of Cape Maclear,

We headed straight for Lilongwe – a bustling place – where we refueled up and ate lunch at Steers (it was great to eat some Beef again). We made sure to fill up the Jerry cans with extra diesel to hopefully see us through Zambia where diesel is about R12 a litre. We then did a shop at a local low cost supermarket which turned to be more of a wholesaler. Everything came in two’s. The prices were very cheap but we had to abide by the rule of buying two of everything, including two bottles of Malawi gin and two crates of small bottles of tonic.

From Lilongwe we headed South through the border at Mchinji, and on to the Zambian town of Chipata. In Chipata we stayed at a nice campsite where we had the best eggs on toast the next morning – exactly what we needed for a long drive that day. The original plan was to make it only to Lusaka where we would stop for the night before attempting the drive to Livingstone (and the Vic Falls) the next day. In the end we drove the entire way, 1200km (some with potholes), and arrived in Livingstone at 10pm.

The Zambezi has burst its banks in many parts of Zambia and Zimbabwe. Hence, we anticipated that the Falls would be spectacular. We walked across the bridge from Zambia into Zimbabwe and entered the Falls from the Zim side. This was my third, Brad’s second and Kelly’s first time, at the Falls. I was instantly overwhelmed at the amount of water. The three of us stood on the rocky outcrop overlooking the Main Falls, in complete silence, getting drenched to the bone, and marveled at the sound of the thousands and thousands of tons of water pouring off the cliff and crashing 100m below. There was so much water that the spray from below rose up above our heads and sent large droplets of ‘rain’ pouring down on us. This time the silence was filled with the roar of Zambezi and light splashes of water landing on the skin.

It being Valentines day we opted to spoil ourselves and enjoy a romantic lunch at an Ocean Basket in town. We had fish and chips and, for the first time in a while, we ate salad. It was half an hour of absolute heaven. I slept like a king.

News from Malawi

2008-02-09T22:56:00.000-08:00

Hi, it’s Luke. I’ve just had my morning coffee and thought I’d update you on the goings-on in Cape Maclear. The last 5 days have been a fantastic mixture of experiences – right from the sublime to the ridiculous. We’re all keeping very well, however, occasionally Brad is convinced he is dying from one or another incurable ailment picked up during the course of the trip.

The car is in a better state too. We spent yesterday fitting the new alternator, a task that proved more difficult than anticipated, largely due to the effects of the local gin and intense heat. The job was further complicated by the fact that the alternator we acquired is a ‘universal’ one, supposedly to fit all makes of cars. Yeah right. Anyway, we went into the village and found a local guy with a scrapyard of cars and Kel managed to seek out a bracket which we used to make the stubborn alternator fit. I also managed to get my spotlights working again, something I had been meaning to do for ages and came to regret not doing when driving along potholed roads in the dark.

We have become somewhat part of the furniture around the place. The staff here seem to enjoy having us, and we’ve enjoyed getting to know them. It would seem, however, that the foreigners who actually own and run the lodges treat them extremely badly. Labour law seems not to have taken root in Malawi. Minimum wage is about R250 per month and their working hours seem to be virtually from dawn until well past dusk. A rather bizarre colonial feel pervades some of the places along the banks of the Lake. I often felt as if I had been transported back 50 years, to what I imagine Ian Smith’s ‘Rhodesia’ must have been like.

The kayaking has been a highlight. My shoulders seem to be constantly stiff as a result of many hours spent in a cramped kayak. The other day we purchased some ‘Kapenta’ (basically sardines) from some fishermen and managed to feed fish eagle that live on one of the many islands. I’ve never seen such an incredible bird of prey so close before. They seem to have almost mercurial eyesight as one can toss the tiny fish high into the air and the fish eagles would swoop silently down from a lofty perch in the trees to grasp the silver fish in their claws, and make off with it before the shutter even comes down on the camera.

The vast array of tropical fish in parts of the Lake makes for great snorkeling. It is quite remarkable that a fresh water lake offers such fantastic snorkeling. The visibility is good and there are numerous species of ‘Cyclids’ (unique to Lake Malawi). We’ve also explored the local village, spent time playing football with the local kids and even watched some of the African Cup of Nations.

Tragedy is never far away in this place though. I met a local man, probably in his forties, called Shakespeare. Like many Shakespearean characters he cuts a tragic figure. We struck up conversation a few days ago and I accompanied him to his house to buy firewood. I began asking him about his family and how he came to be here. After a while, he quite candidly told me that his wife had died some 5 years ago as a result of Aids. She, he claims, had an affair and contracted the disease from another man. Shortly after her death he discovered that he had the disease, as did his young daughter who was born shortly before her mother’s death. He explained to me that both he and his daughter are on ARV’s that he travels 90km to obtain from Mangochi – a nearby town and trading centre. Fortunately, the government in Malawi don’t mince their words when it comes to HIV and the drugs are handed out freely under a state subsidized scheme. Shakespeare reckons that both he and his daughter are far healthier since taking the drugs. Take note Mr Mbeki, stop with your arrogant denialist stance and start coming to terms with probably the greatest failure of your presidency.

In spite of Shakespeare’s condition he is a jovial guy. I enjoyed spending some time in his small ‘house’. The house is really a small thatched, mud and brick room. He has an outside toilet, an open-air kitchen, and a coop for ducks. He and his extended family all live in this small space. They were extremely welcoming, laying out a reed mat for me as soon as I’d put my put through the front gate, and offering me tea. Kel and I went back to visit and took some pictures (which are on the blog), and they loved the excitement of having visitors. We try and buy something each day from Shakespeare – whether it is firewood or a trinket made by his family. It is really difficult to know how to feel in this situation. Does one stand back as a silent observer? Does one step in to try and help? I’m sorry for Shakespeare, but I’m also sorry for all the millions of South African’s on my own doorstep whose stories are no different from his.

We’re going to be enjoying the Lake for a few more days before we embark on the long journey through Zambia. We’ve decided to cross through the Caprivi, stopping along the way before we spend some quality time in Etosha. That is of course barring the unforeseen.

Pics...

2008-02-08T05:29:00.000-08:00

:-)

Pics..

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Pics...

2008-02-08T05:11:00.003-08:00

:-)

Photos from the trip...

2008-02-08T05:02:00.000-08:00

:-)

More Photos

2008-02-08T04:57:00.000-08:00

More Photos

Some Photos...

2008-02-08T04:52:00.001-08:00

Some Photos from the trip so far.

I believe 'tough' is the word...

2008-02-06T02:29:00.000-08:00

We’ve made it to Cape Maclear on Lake Malawi. Making it here, however, was a fairly grueling exercise. More about this to follow.

Malawi is dubbed ‘the warm heart of Africa’ owing to the cheerful and welcoming nature of the local people. Thus far all of our experiences indicate that this is true. Malawi was formerly a British protectorate. David Livingstone (the famous colonial explorer both revered and reviled) ‘discovered’ the Lake in the late 1850s. As I sit here typing this post with the giant mass of water stretching out before me I can only imagine what it must have been like for him to have come across it 150 years ago.
Since Mr Livingstone’s discovery much has changed. Dr Hastings Banda led a local political party through a relatively peaceful independence process and promptly made himself ‘President for life’. His rule did indeed span the rest of his life – some 30 odd years from the time he took office and saw it fit to grant himself mortal tenure.

Banda’s rule was characterized by a conservative autocratic style of leadership. He banned the foreign media, clamped down on any threats to his power and quite bizarrely imposed a very strict dress code. To this day public displays of affection, revealing clothing and any drunken behavior are regarded with great disdain. The next week or two here could be challenging for us.

A few years before his death Banda bowed to pressure to hold a referendum and elections. The cogs of democracy began to slowly grind. Bingu Wa Muthariki is the incumbent president. He is described by the locals as somewhat revolutionary – he is keen on foreign investment, the promotion of tourism and the general development of the Malawian economy. Sadly, they say he has the subtle traits of another autocrat.

Malawi is at present in a sorry state. It is one of the poorest countries on the continent with a high rate of HIV infection. The last 10 years have seen 3 devastating droughts. It is also extremely beautiful. Rolling hills surround the Lake, a giant body of water covering one fifth of the country’s territory. The Lake provides sustenance for a large percentage of the population, and is an attraction for many foreigners. It is warm and populated with a wide array of exotic tropical fish. I look forward to many hours of snorkeling.

Ok, back to the story of how we got here. We set off a few days ago from our rather homely base in Vilanculous. From there we set off North-West. The road rapidly deteriorated further and as evening descending and the sky turned a dark purple navigating the pot-holes became an increasingly difficult task. On top of this we had to endure incessant heat and savage bloodthirsty mosquitoes. We were forced with the unenviable choice of closing the car windows to endure the heat and prevent mosquito infiltration, or have the windows open and continually swat away the bastards. We hedged our bets and left the windows partially open.

The 100km leading up to the North-West city of ‘Tete’ was the toughest driving I have experienced. It was pitch dark by that stage and moon-crater-sized potholes kept rising out of the road to meet my front axle. Tete is a major trucking destination and I was often nearly forced off the road to make way for 18 wheelers driven by stereotypical truck-drivers, whom after a life on the road seemed to believe they donned a cloak of immortality. We finally arrived in Tete at about 10pm.

I can only really describe Tete as the armpit of Mozambique. Finding a place to sleep there was another challenge. We found a local hotel, the outside of which looked like it may have endured a recent bout of mortar shelling. Inside it was actually fairly pleasant. After some tedious and protracted negotiation we got the owner to halve his initial asking price and we took a room. It was heavenly to sleep on a proper bed again.

The next day we set off early and headed North-West to the border. Reluctant to refuel again in Mozambique (where diesel is roughly R13 a litre) we stretched the Landy’s tank as far as it could go. Thankfully the border post is at the base of a long, winding hill and I free-wheeled into Malawi. Fortunately there is a BP at the border and the fuel about the same price as South Africa. From the border we headed through to the capital – Blantyre. As far as capital cities go it seemed rather pleasant. Large tree-lined avenues and friendly city-dwellers made for a change from the inhospitable streets of Tete. We restocked with supplies at a well-stocked Shoprite, even managing to buy blank mini-dvd’s for our camcorder.

The road up to Cape Maclear was fairly decent, save for the last part which deteriorated into a dirt road riddled with corrugations. Things were going well and Brad commented that he could ‘already taste a cold Kuche Kuche’ (the local beer). No sooner had the words left his mouth than the alternator started whining and rattling rather unnervingly. We stopped the Landy to inspect things and our worst fears were confirmed – a bearing on the alternator had gone and the shaft was skew. We reasoned we probably only had a few km’s left of driving. It was getting dark and we were only 10km from our destination. We buckled up and I pushed the Landy hard for a few km’s over the bumpy dust track. After a few km’s the alternator belt slipped off, unable to run on the skew pulley. Further driving would mean the car would overheat so we stopped to regroup.

Kelly (being the trusted engineer) had a closer look. We decided to take the alternator out and try and replace it with a spare that I had brought with me. The only problem being that the spare is an ancient alternator given to me by fellow travelers on a previous trip through Zambia, and was certainly not a permanent fix. I took a deep breath and looked skyward to the increasing number of stars piercing through a canopy of trees. It was very dark to start tampering.

No sooner had we started than a truck carrying about 20 passengers grumbled along the track toward us. I flagged it down with a torch and after some negotiation we arranged for it to tow us into the campsite where we could make a plan the following morning in daylight. The snatch rope I own is short, and the bumpy, hilly and generally terrible road made being towed rather harrowing. Kelly mixed a gin and tonic to ease our nerves as I rode the brake hard to keep tension in the rope. The truck took severe strain up hills, belching diesel fumes as it groaned under the load. We arrived at around 10pm last evening, Graca in tow, and set up camp. A fire and fish braai (from the remainder of the King Mackarel that Kelly caught in Mozambique) was the perfect prelude to a sound sleep.

Things started well today. We arranged a spare alternator from the owner of the lodge (a mechanic) and will fit it later in the week before we set off again. The heat and tiredness from 2 days of driving has been eased by our surroundings. The shady camp on the bank of the Lake, the sound of the lapping water on the shore and the prospect of Kayaking and snorkeling for the next few days has lifted our spirits to new highs. I suppose that is ultimately what travelling is really about – the impermanence of experiences both stressful and glorious knitted together create a seamless fabric of memories.

Sweat, grime, mosquito attacks...

2008-02-06T02:20:00.000-08:00

Sweat, grime, mosquito attacks, traffic fines, hunger and lack of sleep and a fucked alternator! Yet we seem to gain strength and vigour from these trials. Of course the gin is a grand aid in happiness or at least some mangled mental clarity.

It is very heartening to look at one another, engine grease on faces, dirt beneath our fingernails, tobacco-stained breath and yet still see that relentless glint in the eyes of those who are truly delighted to be on the road. I find myself in brilliant, albeit slightly sordid company and this greatly adds to the pleasures and excitement that the natural landscape and local people of our destinations bring.

Whilst our humour and hygiene have become a little less ‘city-living standard’, the beauty we have witnessed has cleansed our spirits and rejuvenated our souls! A little hyperbolic and esoteric? I am inclined to agree, but I just get so giddy when I am comfortably seated looking at the huge expanse of blue that is Lake Malawi. A great vastness of water that is flanked by lush green vegetation, gently-rocking fishing boats and big rolling white puffy clouds holistically occupy my sights and quietly lodge themselves in the recesses of my unusually tranquil mind. Of course, this would not quite be a remote third world country without the fair share of mange-ridden dogs vying for attention and food, a seemingly ne’er reducible savage and vengeful militant squad of mosquitoes and a band of local pushers and peddlers, offering an assortment of curios, fresh fish and medicinal herbs, not always in that order of course. But this is what we love?

Our exercise routine has been maintained, almost unbelievably. We have been edifying our minds with some fine reading material. Luke our resident legal mind and general political analyst has almost exclusively been occupied by thoughts and tales of Bizos and Mbeki. Kelly is elbow-deep in incestuous molestation (his choice of book, not his extra-curricular activities), and I have been reading, almost ashamedly to admit ‘Shataram’. That verbose bastard! Yet his story grips me. I hate him, yet I simultaneously dream of him at night… Sometimes, well sometimes I think I may love him.

We are having a tremendous time. The weather is hot, the beer is cold, the sights are beautiful and the journey is still a long way from complete. The only down side to the trip thus far has been the rather fateful occurrence of the shaving of my beard and my subsequent resemblance of a pre-pubescent girl. But the guys seem to like it… Have they been away to long? What dreadful mind-sets may they entertain? What reputation-damaging behaviours may result? Oh we live in anticipation..

Tippo Tinto

2008-02-03T07:37:00.000-08:00

So quite a bit has transpired since the last entry. We have spent a few days in Vilanculos, which has consisted largely of lazy days reclining alongside our rather Olympic-sized swimming pool. To make it even better, this pool has the extremely beautiful view of the ocean.

Sitting in these situations with cold beer in hand, a good book in lap and enjoying the slow and soothing changing states of sleep and wakefulness, my decision to leave cold and dreary England and join these fine, strapping and extremely outdoorsy/manly chaps (unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality so…), turned out to be an exceedingly brilliant idea, almost as good as Kelly’s decision to bring a fridge in the landy. Perhaps it seems an extravagant idea to those who might read this, as well as detract from our intense wild-man status, but if it helps alleviate any of your doubts as to our true bravado-like natures, I can inform you that the fridge has only carried really cold beer, whisky and okay a bit of chocolate- this is of course just to reveal to you ladies that if you had traveled with us, your needs would have been taken care of.

While all this delightful and to be fair, unsurpassed quality of humour is almost as pleasant for you to read, as it is for me to write I shall move onto some descriptions of what we have been doing lately.

It seems strange to think that we have been away for ultimately such a short space of time, and yet it seems we have done and seen so much. For instance yesterday we went on a boat ride to ‘Two mile reef’ and Basaruto Island, where Lukas got to go on a dive and Kelly and I snorkeled. Of course I am not afraid of the deep blue, I merely refrained from embarking on a diving course to keep Kelly company.—It’s my story and I am sticking to it so… We did however get to see a turtle, stingray (my spirit sank and heart wept for the late Steve Irwin and consequently in a moment of nostalgia and the overwhelming need to exact revenge for Steve, Australia, and indeed mankind, Kelly and I swam to exceptional depths and proceeded to bludgeon the beast to death. However, graced with the rare gift of foresight we managed to bring it to the surface before its necessary demise and reveal to other nearly dead sea-life that whilst we enjoy being under water, we are still the masters of land, sea and air so…

Whilst we managed to assert our manliness, as noted in the almost definitely true account above, another gentleman in our party was not so fortunate. He, a Mozambiquean lad, of unpronounceable name, was christened Tippo Tinto (the name of the local rum) in an admittedly colonialist yet, fairly accurate manner. This is so as he seemed to react, midway through the snorkeling/diving boat ride, in a manner that greatly resembled the way we felt after a night of excess, imbibing the very same substance that shares his ‘namesake’. Besides his motion sickness, and his near-death experiences (he could not swim and Kelly had to offer him his hand for comfort and necessity on more than one occasion) he turned out to be a rather delightful guy, albeit a compulsive liar.

After all the excitement the day ended with Kelly organizing some large Barracuda on which to feast. We also made use of the extremely cold whisky we had to counteract the extreme heat (the fridge seems a good idea now does it not?).

The Vilanculos Diaries

2008-02-03T07:28:00.000-08:00

February the 3rd - Vilanculos

Hi there, it’s Luke. Sure enough plans have changed. We expected they would. Currently the North of Mozambique is flooded. The Zambezi has burst its banks as a result of heavy seasonal rains. The consequence for the inhabitants devastating; for us less so as we now plan to head up through to Malawi and spend some time exploring the lake.

We’re now in Vilanculous – a port town and gateway to the Bazaruto Archipelago. Our last few days in Morrungula were superb. We feasted on prawns and crayfish that we purchased from local fishermen and then expertly prepared them on the braai. We’ve taken to filming our culinary prowess, bragging shamelessly on camera and ridiculing Jamie Oliver – whom we believe wouldn’t last five minutes in this place, let alone be able to whip anything near as delicious.

The drive up to Vilanculous was interesting. The first 50km of road was undeniably the worst thus far. At times the potholes seemed large enough to swallow the Landy whole. To avoid them all manner of vehicles would swerve from right to left without much warning. Add the sweltering heat and occasional tropical storm and one has challenging driving experience. Fortunately the road improved and the remainder of the journey was smooth. We ate peanuts and sang along to the Rolling Stones. The driver’s window stayed open through the intermittent rain, the smell of the cool rain landing on hot tar and dust reminding me again why driving through Southern Africa is such a special experience.

We arrived in Vilanculous at midday. My vest clinging to me, and to and the car seat. The bustling dirt roads of the town felt crowded and chaotic. It quickly became apparent that the tropical cyclone that hit the coast a while ago, had wrought disaster. Along the sea front the lodges and campsites were in tatters. Local residents were busy rebuilding their homes and not much is left of the once flourishing backpackers and campsites along the beachfront – the hardest hit. We decided to check out as many campsites as possible and pick the best one. After an hour or so of scouring through the numerous dirt roads and alley ways in the Landy we asked for directions to a place called ‘Blue Water Bay’. The review provided by the guidebook seemed favourable and we were not having any joy with the places in town. To find the place was a challenge to say the least. We must have stopped about 10 times to ask for directions, and we must have lost a few kg’s each in perspiration. Eventually we came across the place and were pleasantly surprised. It seemed to have escaped the ravages of the cyclone and a neatly trimmed lawn, bamboo and wood bar, and blue swimming pool overlooking the ocean greeted us. The camping was relatively cheap and we wasted no time in making ourselves at home.

The bar is run by a South African guy called John. He must be in his mid-50’s. A real man’s man, salt of the earth type stuff who claimed to hate wearing underwear or shirts. A real charmer for sure. He invited us for a few drinks the other night and proceeded to ply us with the local rum ‘Tipo Tinto’ – a devilishly strong drink which he nonetheless exclaimed would not give us a hangover. I’m fairly sure he’s had so much of the stuff that he’s immune. As we got progressively more tiddled on the rum he began to bellow on about how he’d flown fighter planes for the ‘Rhodesian’ army. He began to harp on about his disdain for the state of affairs in South Africa, attributing it to the ‘black’ government. I didn’t have the energy or presence of mind to challenge him, but in retrospect I would have relished the argument that would have no doubt ensued.

We trundled off to bed that night and clambered heavily and clumsily into our tents. I closed my eyes and the tent was swirling slowly. My body felt warm and relaxed as a heavy tropical downpour pelted down, drumming forcefully onto the exterior of my tent. I slept well.

The next morning was a struggle. The rum was a killer on the head and I was forced to delve into Dad’s neatly packed first aid kit for some first aid. The rest of the morning was slow, a large part of it spent swimming in the pool and snorkeling in the shallow waters below the lodge. In the afternoon I drove into town to buy a local SIM card for my phone. I picked up two local fishermen who needed a lift and they showed me to a shop in the town where I could purchase one. A local tout offered to sell me one for 50,000 MT (Metacais) which is about R15. In the end, with the help of the fishermen I got it for a ‘local price’ of 10,000 MT, about R3. The difference – my rather obvious tourist appearance.

On the way back to the campsite along the dirt track I passed a young woman who flashed her breasts at me. A bit shocked and embarrassed I smiled awkwardly and waved as I drove on. I was initially amused until I reasoned that she was probably offering sex for money. I was reminded of the posters at the border alerting young Mozambiquan woman to be wary of people offering them jobs in South Africa and then smuggling them over the border to face a life of prostitution and abuse. According to a number of UN surveys, it is rife in this area.

We spent yesterday out at the Bazaruto Archipelago. It is an achipelago of islands that have been made part of a WWF pioneered national park. The coral reefs boast some of the most complex and diverse coral in the Indian Ocean. Numerous species of fish, sharks (mostly harmless), turtle, rays and dolphin reside in these waters. I found a local dive school, run by a young French couple, and opted for a package of 2 dives on what is called the ‘Two Mile Reef’. Brad and Kelly were able to join the dive group to do some snorkeling off Bazaruto Island and then on a sheltered part of the reef. I shall leave it to Brad to regale you with a rather humorous story about another snorkeller who joined them.

The first dive was excellent. I started off a bit nervous as I haven’t dived in about 6 months. A few minutes after descending to roughly 20m I felt completely at home. The temperature was about 28 degrees celcius and the visibility a fairly decent 15m. We saw a host of tropical fish, some massive turtle (the biggest I have seen), a reef shark and many devil rays. We ascended after just under an hour of diving and just as we clambered back onto the boat some dolphin swam past and took interest in our presence. The dive master encouraged us to slowly get into the water and swim with them. I wasted no time in doing so. Swimming with 5 dolphins, who were as interested in us as we were in them, was one of the most unique and memorable experiences of my life.

The second dive ended up being even better than the first. The visibility was better and I was far more at ease with my breathing and equipment. We saw a fairly similar spread of sea life and coral structures as the first dive, except for a notable sighting (at least for me) of a tiny baby Emperor Angelfish. It is a beautiful blue and white striped tropical fish that quite inexplicably changes colour completely when it becomes an adult. The dive trip has been a real highlight for. The ability to explore an underwater world so unspoiled makes one feel privileged. I also really enjoy the fact that the only sound you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

Kelly procured us a fresh Baracuda last night on our way home. Buying it was a fascinating experience. As soon as he expressed an interest in buying fish, the car was suddenly surrounded by sellers. A period of intense negotiations followed until a price was agreed upon. We left the car and followed the seller to an alley where he cleaned the fish – gutting it and beheading it. Kelly expertly prepared it on the fire and we sipped whiskey and ate fish until I could stay awake no longer. I was asleep before 9pm, no doubt a mixture of the nitrogen from the dive, a full stomach and a dose of straight whiskey.

We shall shortly be making our way up the Northwest of Mozambique through the city of Tete and across the border into Malawi to restock and refuel in Blantyre. From there we will head up the western flank of Lake Malawi. We are all very well – both physically and mentally. We have replaced our sit-ups and push-ups with a daily half hour of lengths in the 20m pool at the campsite. Each day brings a new experience.

A post from Brad

2008-02-01T05:12:00.000-08:00

Brad here...The general misdirection, poverty-induced anxiety and oft-encountered face of disapproval at my highly prestigious occupation of barman, have rather suddenly become such minor aspects of my thoughts. I suggest to any of you in a state of perplexity back home to drop what you are doing and come join us in this constant state of awe and contentment.

It’s not easy to ‘up and leave’ as suggested above, but we (praise us for our sense of adventure) pushed ourselves to do so. The first couple of days were tough and we decided continue driving to get to a chosen destination, despite our vision being severely hampered by our lack of sleep. And it was so worth it. Here we sit in Mozambique (I refuse to spell it with a ‘c’, part of my lack of respect for foreign cultures and my desire instead to expropriate only those elements I like), in a quiet, lush green campsite quite literally at the shore’s end of a beautiful stretch of soft sand and gentle warm water. Food cooked by resident chef Kelly tastes as if it was prepared by Ramsay himself and the beer flows freely, well very cheaply at least.

Don’t get jealous, we are working a bit. As I write, Kelly is fighting quite a determined current, waist-high in water fishing for our dinner, PapaK is in search of drinkable water and I am… Someone has to make sure the equilibrium isn’t too drastically thwarted.

It has been awesome so far, and we have taken to getting healthy and fit with daily runs along the beach, a strict regimen of push- and sit-ups and obviously some self-congratulatory booze and nicotine afterwards.

This might stretch late into the night if the frigid foreigners, Dutch I believe but not with the same free-thinking ideology as that which we have come to expect from the sneaky trips to Amsterdam, are seduced by our devilish charm and razor-sharp wit. Don’t worry Justine and Brigette they are all mingers.

For those of you who wanted to come with but were prevented from doing so for various reasons, we are missing you and would have loved for you to be here with us. However, remember that whilst we are surrounded by beauty and a life of tranquility, we are forced to Kaiser in some very unpleasant environments so... Not all good.

P.S, I hope someone is recording Brothers and Sisters for me…

A rather late post

2008-02-01T05:10:00.000-08:00

Monday the 28th of January 2008

News from the front.

Hi there, this is Luke. A warm ‘hello’ to everyone at home. We’ve covered roughly 2500km’s so far and have found a small piece of paradise in Morrungula, Inhambane Province in Mozambique. The drive up here was fairly grueling but at the same time smooth. Smooth in the sense that nothing so far has been untoward (touch wood now please). We took shifts, kept each other awake with anecdotes and slowly deteriorating humour. Strong coffeee also helped.

Our first stop along the way was in Springs where we stayed with Kelly’s ‘Granny June’. Granny June fed us until we could eat no more. In fact, we are still eating the dried fruit and nuts she packed for us when we left. From the high walls and electric fences of the gated community in Springs we headed through Witbank and through the beautifully lush province of Mpumalanga until we hit Nelspruit. In Nelspruit we stocked up with some final essential supplies: two litres of whiskey, some curry powder and fish spice, and a R100 pair of sunglasses.

From Nelspruit it is roughly a 2 hour drive to the border. We chose to cross at the Lebombo border and were pleasantly surprised at how quickly we got across. The usual hustlers and touts greeted us on the Mozambiquan side but experience has taught me to shrug them off with a firendy offer of a cigarette and an explanation that we are not foolish tourists ripe for the picking. Once in Mozambique we headed along the South African built En1 road to Maputo. The road is a toll road and is hence in relatively good condition, making the drive smooth and allowing us to absorb the sudden expansive vistas that stretched out on either side. We all commented on how vast the landscape seemed. Spirits were high as we switched between various local radio stations to get a taste of the local music, this was of course until a James Blunt number came on and we were so disgusted that we put on a Rolling Stones CD.

Maputo is the capital of Mozambique – both economic and administrative. It is a bustling and vibrant city with a mix of new buildings and disheveled remnants of the Portuguese occupation. In some parts it looks as if the Portuguese left in a hurry, and by all accounts it seems many did, even going as far as destroying everything they had built lest it fall into the hands of the locals. Mozambique has a torrid history. A brutal Portuguese occupation and a covert South African presence have left an indelible mark on the country. The South African apartheid government effectively engineered a civil war in the country in an effort to destabilize the region and root out ANC operatives. They did so by funding an organization called ‘Renamo’, a farce of a revolutionary party that was armed and funded by the South African’s and included many trained mercenaries. They launched a full-blown civil war against the ‘Frelimo’ party, which lasted for decades and has left behind untold destruction and loss of life. Fortunately, Mozambique is now peaceful and Renamo has evolved into a de jure political party that contests free and fair elections against the ruling Frelimo party. Notwithstanding the peace, this is a poor country desperately in need of foreign investment and basic infrastructure. It’s people regard their fundamental national virtue as ‘patience’ – one that is borne out in just about all interactions one has with the locals.

We spent our first night in a coastal town called ‘Xai Xai’. It is a couple of hours north of Maputo. We camped at a campsite on the beach and had seafood and local beers at a nearby Taverna. Exhausted we were asleep by 10pm and awoke refreshed at 5:30am when the sun came up. We decided to pack up and leave to head onto Morrungula (where we are now) and did so hastily to be on the road before the sun became unbearably hot. The first 100km’s took us over 2 hours. The road is littered with giant potholes. Cars, Trucks and Buses swerve sideways to avoid them, and one cannot drive more than 60km’s per hour as a maximum. Along the road we came across a truck that had ‘jack-knifed’ and lost all of its cargo. Fortunately no one was hurt and the driver just glared at us as we wound past him in the Landy.

The road then improved and the rest of the journey was a comparative breeze. The roadmarkings and roadsigns giving away that it is a South African built road. We sailed through Maxixe and reached Massinga, a small town just outside Morrungula. We have a GPS (nicknamed St Christopher after the paitron saint of travelling), but even this faithful device couldn’t find the turnoff – a sure sign that it would be heavenly and remote. Sure enough, after asking the locals, we 4x4’ed down a muddy dirt road lined with tall palms, and arrived at Morrungula. Having stayed here about 6 years ago I knew of one place to stay – a hut on the beachfront part of a lodge called ‘Baobab’. Sadly, the place looked run down and the employees were surly and unhelpful – a sure sign that the boss wasn’t paying their wages and that we should seek alternative lodging. A short drive away is Morrungula Lodge – a gem of a place right on the beachfront. It offers camping and chalets for reasonable prices. The staff are extremely friendly and helpful and one instantly feels at home. We opted to camp and our campsite looks right onto the ocean, about 20 metres away.

It is difficult to describe how breathtakingly beautiful this place is. Words, and indeed even photographs, will not do it justice. Nonetheless I will attempt to sketch a rough picture. The beach stretches roughly 3km in total. It is lined with tall palms. White sand and azure blue sea provide a stunning contrast. The only visible signs of human occupation are the odd reed hut along the shoreline, and the occasional moored fishing boat. The sea is the warmest I have come across and the waves are strong enough to body-surf and provide one with a good workout. This morning I woke up with the sunrise, made coffee and then went for a run and a swim. I had to pinch myself to be sure that I was actually awake.

The three of us are all well. We have formed a few ‘institutions’, such as: a regular morning workout consisting of push-ups and sit-ups, a running routine, a ‘video diary’ with our camcorder and a lot of communal cooking and packing. One of the reasons why I love traveling so much is because it provides one with perspective. With each passing kilometer and new destination comes a feeling of profound relative insignificance. With the feeling of insignificance comes great appreciation for one’s surroundings and a refreshing reminder of how lucky one is to be alive and healthy. To everyone back home: lots of love to you all. More tales from the trip will follow shortly. Over and out.

The Afrique Diaries

2008-01-09T05:32:00.001-08:00

So the time is nearing. The Landy is almost ready and the route is slowly emerging. The whole ideology behind the trip is very much to 'go with the flow'. Civil wars, political turbulence, fuel shortages and bad hangovers may, and in all likelihood will, influence the course of our journey.

We aim to leave around the 20th of January and intend to make a pilgrimage up to the Serengeti National Park. Along the way up we will explore the Northern reaches of Mozambique and the West of Tanzania. Along the way back to Cape Town we will traverse Zambia, straying into Malawi, and dabble a bit in the wild vistas and swamps of Botswana...this of course is the idea in principle barring the unforeseen.

You may ask why we have chosen to broadcast our travels to the world. Well, we haven't. We've decided to broadcast them to those who will actually read this blog - those who matter most to us. We'd like to entertain you, enthuse you, engage you and inspire you. We wish you were all joining us on our travels and hope that this blog will in some small way allow us to share our experiences with you.