Camel Riders

The End

2008-11-09T22:04:00.007Z

Hurrah, we are finally in Queenstown and Gavin’s promises of magnificent spring weather, as opposed to the rain in the north, turned out to be a complete load of tosh as we battled through blizzards yesterday. Today it is still FREEZING. It is still pretty good to be here.

Despite the threat of a rough crossing across the Cook Straight last week we were very lucky and barely experienced any swell. It was lovely to drift in through Queen Charlotte Sound to Picton, on a ferry which I think in a previous life served the folk of Sicily across the Mediterranean. The evening drive along the Kaikoura coastline was spectacular with the sun setting over the snow capped mountains. We saw plenty of seals but no whales or dolphins. With the trailer even more heavily loaded than when we left Warkworth we made slow progress and did not arrive at Gavin’s sister's until quite late.

The next few days were spent catching up with friends and family whilst running various errands around Christchurch. Then, just when we all thought Gavin’s “manly” days were over he had to mend another puncture, but this time it was much more simple- it was only his mountain bike tyre.

While in Christchurch we were treated to a tour of the cardboard packaging plant where Gavin's sister Danielle works. A few of her colleagues had been following the blog, and we felt a bit like celebrities when we were introduced to people for the first time and they already knew our names.

Then it was time to cram even more boxes and gear into and onto both the car and the trailer. By now we were carrying six bicycles, plus a bike frame, two beds, plus their mattresses, two bar stools, one chair, many many tea chests, all our expedition gear and a strawberry plant. We made very slow progress up Burke Pass, but it was another stunning day and the views across Lake Pukaki to Mount Cook made it all worthwhile.

We stopped for a bit of a photo shoot but we still had a long way to go and carried on our merry way to view our section at Lake Ohau, just a 40 minute detour, and to ceremonially chop down the first tree. Gavin has been designing a house to put on the section since early on in Africa so it was exciting to be able to visualise it all a bit better.

Time to get going again, we still had the Lindis Pass to negotiate and were a number of hours from Queenstown. We were keen to arrive before dark, just in case there was a problem with the re-connection of electricity and gas etc. Finally after a journey that took nearly twice as long as normal we arrived at our little house overlooking the Remarkables and Lake Wakatipu.

The house has been rented for a number of years and there are few alterations and repairs to be completed before we take all of our possessions out of storage, so we are still “camping” in a fashion but this time it is in a house. Gavin has to decide on his career direction from here and we are both planning for the arrival of the Little One in January. So it is all very exciting for us still.

After almost two years of having no fixed abode it was good to be home. Although it does mean the end of the Camelriders2007 and the last part of the journey was very rushed, not the final tour of New Zealand we had anticipated, but we have had a fantastic run. We have both had a lot of fun writing the blog and are really pleased that so many people enjoyed reading it. It felt very reassuring to know that you were coming along the journey with us and were interested in our antics, adventures, trials and tribulations and the friends we have made along the way. We would also like to say a massive THANK YOU to all and everyone who has shown us hospitality, given us assistance and provided logistical support along the way.

Thank you again and our door in Queenstown is always open, I am a long way from my original home now and we love having visitors.

All the best

Catkin and Gavin

P.S. You can contact me on Facebook, but not Gavin because he has never looked at it.

Southern Express

2008-10-27T00:37:00.007Z

It has been a huge relief getting the Land Rover through the entry compliance inspection and on the road in New Zealand. It was almost eight weeks since the initial inspection when we took it back for the successful retest. Most of that time I spent working on the vehicle to bring it to the required standard for the certification we needed, although there were times when we wondered if we were actually going to be able to get it through. We had a lot of help though, especially from Terry of Heritage Mechanical Services, without whose expert knowledge, calm guidance and the use of his workshop the whole job would have been substantially more difficult.

After passing the retest we were issued with a warrant of fitness, and we were able to register the vehicle with new NZ number plates and pay road user charges then and there. Following this, we could legally drive the vehicle away from the testing station and home. It was great to be back driving the Camel again, and it meant we could finally get on with the rest of our trip south.

The following day we repacked the vehicle with our expedition equipment, as we had emptied it out completely after clearing the MAF bio-security inspection back in August. We had taken over a spare room in Mum and Dad’s house with all our gear, so it was good to be able to give them some space back. Catkin also took the opportunity to give our canvas seat covers a wash, as she had been itching to do this for quite a while.

Now that the vehicle was fully imported we needed the New Zealand Customs Service to complete the ‘Certificate of Location’ page of our Carnet in order for us to send our documentation back to the ADAC in Munich for the refund of our deposit. We had to go in to the main Customs house in the middle of Auckland to do this, and although it seemed like it was rather an unusual request, we managed to convince them that we were not doing anything illegal and the form was duly filled out. We have now sent the forms back to Germany and are eagerly anticipating the return of our funds.

On the way into town we stopped off at a number of trailer manufacturing companies. We have been planning to buy a trailer, and seeing as I still had quite a bit stored at my parents’ place we decided we might as well get one now and take everything with us. We narrowed it down to one that seemed well constructed and at a reasonable price and put a deposit down for collection the following Tuesday.

Now that we had freedom to roam we were quite keen to get heading south as soon as we could. We had initially planned to be in Queenstown by early October, so were basically a month behind schedule. We were now aiming to get away on the Thursday of the coming week, so spent the weekend visiting friends and relatives before our imminent departure.

Just as a little something different, we had been invited to take part in a group test of a range of small four-wheel-drive vehicles for a New Zealand 4WD magazine. This was being organised by Ashley, who is the owner of the only other original Camel Trophy Land Rover in New Zealand. We had been in contact with Ashley for a number of months before arriving in New Zealand and had seen him quite a few times since while working on the vehicle. We spent the day in rural South Auckland test driving each vehicle both on and off road, making notes about the characteristics of each and comparing each one to the others. It was a great day, and our lunch spot at the top of the hill had a fantastic view.

Ashley came up to Warkworth the following day to get a few photos of the two Camel Trophy vehicles together. This would be his last chance for a while before we departed the following day. Ashley’s vehicle was owned by Land Rover Experience before he bought it and has the panel damage to prove it. It also gave us the chance to park the two side by side and compare war stories.

Due to the length of our impending journey and the likelihood of bad weather enroute, we decided that our new trailer needed a plywood box to protect the contents, so a good portion of our last day before departure was spent constructing that.

Departure day arrived, and I still had stuff everywhere. Our tentative time of departure of 1pm came and went and we still had loads to do. Space inside the trailer seemed to be disappearing very quickly, but by 2:30pm we finally had everything packed and were ready to roll. It was raining by now, so we were glad to have everything under cover.

Queenstown, here we come. We stopped the first night at my cousin’s farm just north of Matamata, and the second night with friends near Otaki. We are now in Wellington at Andrew and Jen’s place, getting to know our new nephew, and spent yesterday sorting through some of the many boxes they have been storing for us for nearly two years. We have managed to fit even more into the trailer, but all the remaining boxes will need to be transported south once we are set up down there. We have caught up with a couple of friends in Wellington also.

We have another night here, and cross Cook Strait tomorrow, bound for Christchurch, where I know two of my sisters can’t wait to see Catkin and ‘the bump.’ Yes, for those who don’t know, Catkin’s pregnant, so even more reason to get to the end of our journey and start behaving like responsible adults.

The Camel rides again

2008-10-15T11:10:00.003+01:00

Almost eight weeks after the intial entry inspection we have at last satisfied all requirements for the Land Rover to be registered for use on the road in New Zealand. With brand new number plates we have finally taken the vehicle for its first official drive on New Zealand roads. We still can't believe it!

Still sanding

2008-10-05T11:12:00.000+01:00

My daily trips to Auckland continue and I no longer have any fingerprints left, thanks to days and days of sanding. The repair certifier we have engaged viewed progress last week and was generally happy with how things were going, although he wanted a few additional areas cleaned off for inspection. If all goes according to plan he will come back in the next day or so for another inspection and, fingers crossed, give the go ahead to complete the repairs. After that he should just need to visit for a final inspection and complete the paperwork, but this may still take some time yet…

We are still awaiting the arrival of our Low Volume Vehicle modification plate. We have spoken to the LVV certifier several times, and he continues to assure us that the plate will arrive soon, but no sign of it yet. It was meant to take a couple of days, and that was two weeks ago.

We had hoped to be well and truly headed south by now, but here we are, still in the winterless north. We have managed to catch up with a couple of friends though, which has been great. Yesterday was the Warkworth Kowhai Festival market day, which is probably the first one I have been to since I left school (ages ago), so Catkin got to see how we celebrate spring in these parts.

Another week of hard toil starts tomorrow. Hopefully more to report by the end of the week.

Making progress, slowly

2008-09-20T06:43:00.001+01:00

Making progress, but slowly, is how we left it at the end of our last full post nearly three weeks ago. Things slowed down even more after that, but we finally seem to have things moving in the right direction again.

At that stage we had done all that we could ourselves, and were waiting on the opinions of various people who we needed to certify certain aspects of the vehicle.

Because the Camel Trophy Land Rovers have roll cages fitted we needed to engage the services of a Low Volume Vehicle certifier. The roll cage, even though it was fitted by Land Rover Special Vehicles division when the vehicle was first constructed, is classified as a modification, and as such must be certified for use in New Zealand. The LVV certifier instructed us to fit approved padding to some parts of the cage, which we have done, so now we are awaiting the arrival of our modification plate and for it to be affixed to the vehicle.

Two small areas of corrosion and some small patches of surface rust need to be repaired, but the repairs must be carried out in accordance with the directions of a Repair Certifier. It seemed to take some time to get a repair certifier to have an initial look at the vehicle, but now that one has, we have his proposed course of action and have got cracking putting it into action. I have been backwards and forwards to Auckland every day to work on the Land Rover, and by the time we have finished it will be as good as new.

So we are making progress, but it is very slow!

In the meantime, it has stopped raining so much and the ground has started to dry out at last. Mum and Dad are still putting up with us, and we have been enjoying copious amounts of large, juicy grapefruit from the tree, as well as delicious home cooking and too much dessert.

We had originally hoped to be heading south around this time, but obviously that was too optimistic, and at this point in time it still isn’t clear just when that might be. Hopefully by the end of this week we will have a clearer picture of how things are looking with the vehicle and when it might be going back to the compliance centre for a retest.

2008-09-03T08:48:00.002+01:00

We're still hoping that we will be at the end of our odyssey sooner rather than later, and certainly before everyone in our families celebrate two birthdays since the date of our departure from the UK, but in the meantime we say Happy Birthday my sister Claire. Have a great day.

The Ultimate Inspection

2008-09-01T02:55:00.000+01:00

Two working days passed without hearing back from the compliance inspection centre. They had said that the inspection normally takes a day or so, so I was starting to get even more nervous. On the third day I decided to call and see how it was going. Unfortunately, the news was not good.

The inspector started reeling off a list of reasons for failure, and it was so long I had to get him to go through it again so I could write it all down. Having only discussed it over the phone and not being able to talk about each item while looking at the vehicle, we were a little unsure of the full extent of the problem. There followed a period of soul-searching, wondering whether, despite our research into importing a vehicle into New Zealand, we had underestimated the standards that vehicles were required to meet. Maybe a 14-year-old vehicle would be too difficult to bring up to the required standard, and the dreaded fall-back option of shipping back to the UK to sell was once again mentioned. That would be a last resort though, and we spent the rest of the day phoning around various places getting an idea of prices and availability for parts and work. We decided to head down to the inspection centre early the next morning to get a better grasp of exactly what would need to be done to pass the inspection. It was well worth our while, and after talking it through with the inspector we realised that a lot of the items would be relatively easy to resolve. In fact, we managed to sort out a good number there and then.

By the end of the day we had cleaned out our number plate light and replaced one of the bulbs, realigned our headlights (probably to account for the removal of the one tonne of equipment from the back of the vehicle), made a few ‘minor’ adjustments to our auxiliary lighting and sourced new front brake discs and pads. The next day I went back down to Auckland and spent the day replacing the front brake discs (as well as taking the opportunity to replace the wheel bearings on one wheel) and fit two new red reflectors to the rear of the vehicle. Fortunately when I cleaned up the disc pads, we could see that they were an approved brand and still had plenty of wear, so I’ve been able to save the new pads we bought for use in the future. The guys at the compliance inspection centre have been really helpful while we have been sorting out these matters, and I can’t thank them enough.

The Camel has now been transported to a specialist Land Rover mechanic to get his opinion on the remaining items that need to be rectified, namely exhaust emissions and two small areas of corrosion. As from this year, all used vehicles being imported into New Zealand have to undergo an exhaust emissions test on entry, and ours has failed. An emissions test is a normal part of the annual MOT in the UK, and we have never had any trouble passing that before. In fact, it is still within those limits. The New Zealand test is much more stringent though, with the limits being just over a quarter of those for the UK. Hopefully a thorough clean out and fine tune can get it through the test.

In the meantime, the Suzuki we have been running around in sprang an oil leak from the rear axle, and the need to replace the oil seal gave me a chance to replace the rumbly wheel bearing at the same time. Friday was spent on that, and now we can actually hear ourselves as we drive around in it.

So there we are. Still a bit apprehensive about the emissions test, and not sure just when it will be going back for the retest, but at least we are making progress, no matter how slowly.

We’ve been back in New Zealand for just over two and a half weeks, but it seems like an age ago since we left Brisbane. It’s great to finally be back, especially that it’s for good this time and not just for a holiday. Catching up with friends and family has been fantastic, although we’ve been trying hard not to bore them all with our “When I was in Africa…” stories.

Long Way Down

2008-08-24T12:04:00.003+01:00

Another birthday rolls past for me, so that means Happy Birthday to Sue as well.

Now have the special edition dvd of the McGregor/Boorman Long Way Down to accompany the book received from GAS, so once the Olympics are done with we can sit down to ten episodes, plus extras, of African overland travel as it should be. Or could be, if you have an unlimited budget, heaps of sponsorship and massive support team...

Back in the bosom

2008-08-22T00:25:00.003+01:00

As soon as we had packed the car up in the container David decided it was time for a bit of sightseeing so off we went to view the Glass House Mountains and other local areas. We also managed to see Kathy and Dave, friends from Queenstown. They are working in Brisbane and were pretty keen to pop up to Bribie Island for a bit of a cycle around and lunch. We managed something like a 5 minute cycle ride in between eating and talking.

We were still not finished with exporting the car formally and as soon as various documents came through we jumped on the train to Brisbane to pay a visit to the Customs house for our final exit stamp in the Carnet. The whole process took just a couple of minutes and a couple more because the Customs officer was quite perturbed that we had omitted to sign the front of the carnet- she was the first to notice our error. With everything done we had just one more day in Australia so we borrowed David and Helen’s bikes again and explored a bit more of Bribie Island.

David very kindly drove us to the airport and we had hoped that we might be able to catch a glimpse of the container ship transporting our car from the plane but we were in the middle row of seats, so we could not even see New Zealand as we came in to land.

Normally it can take quite a while to get through the quarantine section of arrivals at Auckland and because we had taken George the Giraffe (a carved wooden giraffe), one of our few African souvenirs with us, we had anticipated that we would be quite a while and had suggested to Gavin’s parents that they didn’t rush to be at the airport for the arrival time. So of course the plane was early and we were through Immigration, Customs and Quarantine in 10 minutes flat and out into the arrivals hall just about the time the plane was due to arrive waiting to be welcomed back. Pete and Trish were not far behind though and soon we were on our way again. After popping in to see Gavin’s sister and her boyfriend, Kathryn and Alan, who live in Auckland we carried on back to Warkworth.

The following day we drove out to the Wenzlick farm at Matakana where Gavin’s uncle and aunt, Bryan and Bev, have been looking after the trusty Suzuki in one of their sheds. When we parked it up, nearly 18 months ago, we forgot to disconnect the battery and after a few tows around by tractor (it is a rather hilly and very, very, very wet farm at the moment) the little beast refused to start so off went Gavin to buy a new battery while Bev and I studied the waterlogged garden, it has been raining here for weeks. The new battery did the trick and it started first time- what a beauty. It may not be the most luxurious or modern little beast but it even made it through a Warrant of Fitness without any problems, after washing all the bird poo off.

Over the next few days we caught up with many more members of Gavin’s family and friends. We have made a couple of trips down to Auckland to get into progress importing the car and in all honesty, not be down on Australia, but it does seem to be a lot more straight forward than our last country.

So now we have been back for a week. Yesterday we unpacked the car from the container and our hard work and David’s hard work seems to have paid off. The car passed its quarantine (MAF) inspection with flying colours, apart from a quick hovering up of a little dust and sand that had shaken down during shipping no further cleaning or fumigation was required. A process which had taken 11 hours in Fremantle took only a couple of hours in Auckland. In the afternoon the car was transported to a vehicle compliance testing station where inspectors are going through it with a fine tooth comb to ensure that it meets all the Kiwi safety regulations. Gavin has been worrying about this inspection ever since we departed the UK so we just hope that it goes OK. Fingers crossed.

71 today

2008-08-13T11:56:00.001+01:00

Happy Birthday to my Pa from a wintry New Zealand.

Tantalisingly close

2008-08-08T07:22:00.008+01:00

Camping right on Teewah Beach, right beside the Pacific Ocean, it started to sink in just how close we are now to the end of the journey. New Zealand is only 2000km away now. We have been listening to Radio New Zealand on short wave, and even heard my home town of Warkworth mentioned in the news the other day (because of a landslip in The Dome).

The sand dunes at Teewah were a great camping spot, and luckily we had a bit more room for the drive out along the beach the next day, instead of just the single lane width above the lapping waves of the previous evening.

All of our focus was now turning to shipping the Land Rover to New Zealand. This included sorting out shipping details as well as preparing the vehicle for entry to New Zealand. We had begun contacting shipping companies a couple of weeks ago, but still needed to arrange loading. Most importantly we needed to get on with cleaning the vehicle, and there were numerous small repair jobs I needed to sort out. We spent our last two nights camping in a forest park an hour or so north of Brisbane and spent the whole day touching up paint and attending to small repairs.

From there it was only a short run to my uncle’s place on Bribie Island, where we are staying until we fly out next week. Helen and Uncle David have had their driveway taken over by the Land Rover, and we have used up all their rainwater cleaning the vehicle from bottom to top to bottom again, inside and out.

Uncle David’s workshop and years of experience as a mechanic have been put to good use fixing everything that needed fixing, including re-welding our leaking front diff. He’s a Ford and Jeep man through and through, but secretly knows his way around a Land Rover pretty well also.

The thorough cleaning carried out before shipping from South Africa and on arrival to Fremantle meant that this time ’round the job was ten times easier. After three full days the Land Rover is looking a million bucks again, and all the little (and some not so little) repairs are complete. Hopefully the vehicle is clean enough to satisfy the New Zealand Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry officials and the Land Transport Safety Authority entry certifiers. We’re both pretty nervous about those two steps to importing the land Rover to New Zealand.

Over the weekend we took a run into Brisbane and caught up with Dr John, a friend that Catkin worked with on the ski fields in Queenstown a few years ago. It was good to see him again, and he and his family kept us well entertained while feeding us pizza for dinner. John was off to Mongolia the next day for a few weeks, so we got to play travel agent and make all sorts of suggestions about things to see and do there.

Yesterday we packed the car into a container for the second time on the trip. We decided to try it with the roof tent still on, and it just fitted in (just!). After chocking the wheels and lashing it in, we closed the container doors and sealed it. Hopefully we will see the Land Rover again in ten days or so, all going well.

In the eight weeks since leaving Perth we have covered almost 12,000km in Australia, bringing our total for the trip so far to about 56,000km. Diesel prices have been the highest on record, and in some of the more remote places has been the most expensive we have had to buy anywhere on our whole trip so far. All this has lead to nearly half our total fuel costs being spent on less than a quarter of the total journey. Only now that we have finished the Australian leg of the journey have fuel prices started to come down.

Everyone has been eagerly anticipating the start of the Olympics, but this auspicious date 08.08.08 just happens to be my Mum’s birthday, so Happy Birthday Mum! Mum has been counting off the days until we get there - not long to go now.

Nearly there now

2008-07-30T07:07:00.007+01:00

A place with a name like Coober Pedy certainly had us intrigued and after learning that most of the living is done underground we decided to visit, it was even on our way. One teenage lad had told us that the town was really spectacular and although we learned a long time ago not to set too much store by other people’s impressions, we came away with a decidedly different impression. The town really is rather bizarre. The locals are very proudly displaying recent photos taken of the surface of Mars and comparing them to photos of their beloved town. We had to agree that they are very similar, except that Coober Pedy is probably a bit more dusty. The town is the centre of the Opal mining industry and every other premises is either an old mine museum or Opal shop. The original pioneers and miners decided that the environment was a little too hot for them and being miners burrowed underground to live and today many of these dwellings house commercial premises and hotels. It was lovely to go down into the cave like rooms, they must have been a real sanctuary from the wind, dust and heat.

Dotted all round the town are many small private mining ventures and there are numerous signs warning of the potential dangers.

After the usual fuel and water top up we took a road eastwards to William Creek to meet up with the Oodnadatta track. For the first time on the whole trip we had to pay for the water which is dispensed from a coin operated machine. Water is fairly precious in these parts, although it did only cost a few cents.

We were by now rather wary of gravel roads but were very pleasantly surprised. This one was almost, not quite, as smooth as a baby’s bottom. What a delight. The road itself was also a lot more interesting than the Tanami track. The next day we expected that on meeting up with the Oodnadatta track we would again be met by huge corrugations, but again the road was good. In fact none of the roads we have travelled on since have been nearly as bad as we feared. What a bonus.

The Oodnadatta track follows part of the route of the Old Ghan Railway, which travelled from Adelaide to Darwin. All along the part we travelled were a number of sidings and homesteads some in a completely ruined state and some restored. One even hosts a ball on alternate years. We encountered a sandstorm in the afternoon so I hope the ball is scheduled for a different season. We also drove through the world’s largest cattle station, Anna Creek, which is larger than Belgium. We did not see a single cow.

We stopped for a few drops of fuel in Leigh Creek before heading into the North Flinders Ranges. Leigh Creek is a modern mining town which has been fully landscaped and planned with all sorts of modern amenities (no bare patches of dust for the wind to agitate which gets into your nooks and crannies). It formed such a juxtaposition with the harsh environment and very different to the old fashioned homesteads and roadhouses we had passed.

That evening we found a site to camp which we hoped would provide us with enough shelter from the wind, also rain was looking imminent. Usually we find that the wind dies down when the sun sets, but not on this occasion so it was pitch black by the time we made camp. Few hours later the wind decided to change direction and it sounded as if our tent would be torn to shreds. Gavin got up to see if he find could somewhere a bit more sheltered and before long I felt the whole car moving underneath me. It was rather cool, I felt a bit like the Queen of Sheba being transported around but I did get up also because when the tent is erected the driver is unable to see anything. Eventually we were settled in a more sheltered spot and spent the rest of the night quite peacefully.

The following day we were keen to explore the mountains on foot but it was still so windy that all the dust in the dry river courses was just swirling everywhere and it was in fact really unpleasant so we stayed in the car and carried on driving. That evening we joined up with the Strzelecki Track and camped at a hot springs nestled between low sand dunes. It was still windy. The following morning it was still so Gavin set about repairing another puncture and a few other repairs. One of our oldest tyres really has had it but we are determined to get the last few miles out of it- especially as we are still on gravel roads and not travelling very fast. I enjoyed the luxury of washing my hair with HOT water and attending to some laundry.

Despite the ever present wind becoming even stronger as the day progressed we decided to spend the rest of the day hiding from the wind and having a bit of a break from travelling. The next day we were on the road again, not really bright and early because it really is pretty cold in the mornings, and arrived in Innamincka. The route took us past the Moomba gas fields and we were intrigued to see signs for various camps and then saw just a few containers. The odd container had a satellite dish and one had a sign on it “Hotel California”. These were the accommodation blocks for the mining workers- a few containers dumped in the desert, most congenial living quarters. We understand that the workers are paid very well. Although we were still in the desert there was evidence of recent rains as we drove past swathes of yellow, white and purple flowers.

That evening we were driving on tar seal. This has good and bad points. The worst thing is that it is only a single track of tar seal so in the event of meeting a road train or a road train wanting to overtake we have to pull right off the road. Two normal vehicles travelling in opposite directions both pull off half way onto the gravel which is great when a stone flicks up from the other vehicle and chips your windscreen.

It seemed that quite rapidly the scenery was changing from desertscape to pastoral countryside and the following morning we awoke to the scent of camomile pasture and the stares of an inquisitive neighbour of the bovine variety. Now it seemed that the wind had abated, after a week, and rain was imminent.

That evening the rain started and did not cease for days. In the morning we stopped at a picnic area when a chap originally from Devon pulled up in his land rover and thus ensued another of many landy conversations. He was also very proud of his beast which was preserved for real off-road adventures, so I think he was bit put out when another chap pulled up in his car towing a caravan and exclaimed that had he known that this big yellow land rover (us of course) was just down the road he would have come and asked us for a tow rather than going to the local garage, without even glancing at the Devonians land rover.

As we carried on our way we were coming across towns every two or three hundred kilometres, towns which were also incrementally increasing in size as the price of fuel was decreasing. We drove through the heart of the Australian cotton growing industry with large dams attached to towns. These dams provided the towns with lovely waterfront parks and although the ecological effect of these dams on the river systems downstream is highly controversial there is no denying the beautifying effect they have on these cotton towns.

Bush camping becomes more and more difficult as the roads become busier and the population density increases so when we heard about a rural pub which encourages bush camping on its common that was almost on our way we could not pass up the opportunity of a draft beer without having to drive or make camp. We arrived at the pub and very welcoming it looked however, with all the rain we had just encountered our potential camping area looked less than inviting. MUD. As we were surveying the scene a chap waved to us indicating to go no further. He gingerly picked his way through the mud over to us, followed by another chap caked from head to foot on his left side with mud. He explained that there were a number of vehicles all bogged down and were waiting for a tractor to come and pull them out. Okay, so we gave that area a miss and carefully made our way over to another to survey and almost got stuck ourselves and decided to give the whole thing a miss. We eventually found a campsite much later after dark by an agricultural railway depot which amazingly even provided hot showers. There were only two houses there and nothing else.

As we got closer to the coast we stayed in a couple of really delightful National Parks campsites, they even provided firewood (wet) which gave Gavin the opportunity of baking scones. In a delightful rural area we called in to visit Virgil, a friend of Gavin’s, and his new family. He and all his extended family-in-law made us very welcome and it was lovely to sit round a family dining table again.

Our time in Australia is coming to an end so we are spending our last week on the road exploring the area north of Brisbane which is very pretty, lush and hilly. Yesterday we passed through Gympie, an attractive old railway town on our way to the Great Sandy National Park. Last night we camped on the beach, nestled in the sand dunes, after driving a few kilometres along the beach, cutting it a bit thin as high tide was nigh.

Finally, before I go, very happy 25th birthday to Kathryn.

The Red Centre

2008-07-18T06:14:00.006+01:00

Crossing the border into the Northern Territory we had to adjust our watches by one and a half hours to the strangest time zone we have been to – now we are nine and a half hours ahead of GMT, and we have to remember to listen to the World Service news at half past the hour. Just before the end of our journey down the Tanami Road we again crossed over the Tropic of Capricorn, so are once again out of the tropics. The night time temperatures have fallen dramatically to suit – the other night it was 0.2ºC, so at least it wasn’t freezing. The weather reports on the radio seem to constantly remind us that the temperature in Darwin is double that around Alice Springs.

Our visit to Alice Springs just happened to coincide with the annual “Camel Cup” held in town. It started a few years back when two locals raced camels down the dry riverbed in the middle of town and has carried on ever since as a local fundraiser. It seems that it has become quite popular, and people come from all over Australia to see it. We could see people looking at our Land Rover with the big Camel Trophy stickers on the doors, and a couple of our neighbours at the campsite even came over and asked if we were involved in the racing – they all looked a bit disappointed when we told them we weren’t. We didn’t end up going to the races, but by all accounts it was a great day, except for the rider who fell off and broke her leg. It’s a long way down…

We only spent just over 24 hours in Alice Springs, but there were busy hours. As Catkin mentioned we headed into Repco to see about our punctured shock absorber, and that took a while to get nowhere. We also stocked up on groceries, filled up with diesel, caught up on emails, picked up a parcel from the UK that had arrived at the Post Office that very day, spent a couple of hours on Skype talking to family in New York, New Zealand and England and even had time to visit the Royal Flying Doctor Service headquarters. With all that done we made our way out of town into the West MacDonnell National Park and found a spot to camp. This park has lots of scenic water holes and gorges to visit, plus loads of bush camping sites. We spent a couple of days making our way through the park.

At one water hole that we stopped at we started talking to an Australian couple who were on their way to Darwin to visit friends. They were regaling us with stories of the places they had visited so far, and insisted that we visit Ayers Rock. The lady got out her camera and started showing me all her photos, asking if we had even seen such red sand. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that actually we’ve seen loads of it, both here and in Africa, but just nodded and complimented her photography.

At Glen Helen Resort we purchased a permit (for $2.20) to allow us to travel around the Mereenie Loop to King’s Canyon. The road was another rough, corrugated gravel road, so again we had a nice slow afternoon, taking in all the scenery. We have noticed that four wheel drive is recommended for any gravel roads here – the only reason seems to be for the corrugations. No bush camping allowed around this area, so we had to fork out $27 for an unpowered campsite in a dust bowl. At least it was another chance for a shower and to do some laundry.

King’s Canyon was pretty spectacular, and we had a good look around on the 6km canyon rim walk, which, as you may have guessed, circumnavigates the rim of the canyon’s towering cliffs.

From there, we headed to Australia’s tourist mecca, Uluru or Ayers Rock. It’s really noticeable that the numbers of overseas tourists here is far greater than in other areas we have been. Road signs are shown in a number of languages, and there are big signs reminding you to drive on the left. This seemed a bit odd in the middle of the country (how did you get this far if you didn’t know to drive on the left?) but lots of people fly in and pick up their rental car here I suppose.

The town of Yulara was purpose-built as a resort to host visitors to Uluru. The visitor’s centre had a great display on the history of the area and the flora and fauna found locally. You are allowed to walk to the top of Uluru, although the indigenous people prefer it if you don’t.

Further along the road are the domes of Kata Tjuta, which are in themselves quite impressive. You could probably sit there and take photos all day.

The favourite times for viewing are by far sunrise and sunset, and big viewing areas have been built at both for these times. We were at Uluru for sunset, just as the almost-full moon was rising.

So, our whistle-stop tour of the Red Centre is all but complete, and now we turn our attention more directly eastward, and closer to our final destination. It sounds like we cannot take any fruit or vegetables across the border into South Australia, so we may have to camp out for a day our two on the way to consume all our oranges, potatoes and butternut pumpkin.

The Real Hema Map Boy

2008-07-11T23:04:00.008+01:00

We spent another night in a roadside rest area near the access road to the Bungle Bungles, some of these areas are quite nice and campfires are sanctioned, just sometimes the generators some people use to power their fridges or air-conditioning or ovens or I do not know what can be a bit intrusive until they are switched off. The next day we trundled into the metropolis of Halls Creek. Another quite pleasant outback town with everything we could want; mainly fuel and groceries but also a tyre repair service, but more of that later. We stocked up on some very expensive groceries - we are quite a long way from anywhere, also despite having heard about global increase in food prices over the last year on the radio, as we are still working in UK prices from 12 months ago.

Our plan from Halls Creek was to drive east to Old Halls Creek, a few kilometres along the road and site of the first old rush in Western Australia, then find a track marked on our map which would take us south to the Tanami road. This is a 1000km gravel road across the Tanami desert from Halls Creek to Alice Springs. After stopping off to view the “China Wall”, a six foot high and two foot wide perpendicular strata of white quartz poking up out of the ground, we found what we thought was the track, but this ended up at the bottom of a rather deep quarry now full of water. So we tried the next track. This just became more and more rough and after making slow progress that required the odd bit of marshalling by myself travelling at an average of 5km/hr it was just not worth the short cut. So we turned around. A few miles down the road we found a delightful place to camp, in fact my favourite camping spot so far in Australia, at Sawpit Gorge, where some river (actually flowing) cuts through the hills (or mountains if you are Australian). In the morning we enjoyed a wonderful wash, well away from the water edge, and a cool bathe before heading back to Halls Creek.

Unfortunately, just as we pulled into Halls Creek we heard the pshhhtttt of a tyre going flat. Oddly enough so far in Australia the car has caused quite a bit of attention. This is even more surprising given the large numbers of 4WD vehicles around and many highly customised and a lot more flash than ours. This occasion was no exception. As we were trying to quickly get the wheel replaced without being too obvious, a chap who turned out to be the local bobby turned up, very interested. By the time we were round to the other side of the car there was another admirer. However this was no ordinary admirer he was Hema Map Surveyor. He was very interested to hear about our fruitless endeavours the previous day. He had been trying to find the southern entrance off the Tanami road (where we would have popped out) the previous day and had given up. He then proceeded to offer us his complete collection of maps of Australia to download onto the laptop. How very useful. Thank you.

Having repaired so many punctures already we decided that Gavin should have a break and we would take it to the man with the equipment. Maybe alarm bells should have started ringing when he said that with these types of wheels (not split rims) the inner tube often tears when it comes out. None of Gavin’s have. Needless to say our fairly new inner tube ended up with a really big hole in it so it also had to be replaced. While he inspected the tyre for the cause of the puncture saying “well bloke I can’t see anything to cause a puncture here” he cut his finger on the bit of metal that caused the puncture, this did nothing to boost my confidence. However, it was soon all repaired and we were on our way again. The repair lasted for two days. The culprit of this subsequent puncture was bits of metal between the inner tube and the tyre from his workshop floor. Great job blokey, so Gavin got to be manly again after all repairing more punctures. Only this time he is sporting some very stylish headgear in honour of the large number of really pesky flies.

That night we camped at Wolfe Creek crater, not only was a particularly gory horror film based there (and no we have not seen the film, everybody asks) but it is also the world’s second largest meteorite crater. Although there is not really much to see, it is believed that it was originally 120 metres deep 300,000 years ago, we found it to be pretty impressive.

The following day we turned south off the Tanami road back onto the Canning Stock Route, the northern end where we would have come out. We carried on down for another day and a half just to see a bit of what we had missed before turning back at the Breadon Hills. It really is not the isolated track we had anticipated. During the first day we saw at least ten other vehicles and a similar number the next day. They are all travelling at twice the speed we are over the corrugations, one chap asked us why were driving so slowly toady, we just replied that we always travel so slowly, “oh”. I think it just means that we can appreciate everything so much more, after all we are not planning to return to the outback in a hurry so we may as well make the most of it. It is interesting because we can see what animals are around by identifying their tracks, we can see the birds more clearly and the plants. We took some of the sweet water from well 49 on board and headed back out.

We had seen a few bush fires in the distance and the glow from one quite close on the first night was quite exciting but one chap who overtook us, they all overtake us, said that he had just skirted round one that had seemed quite close to where we had lunch, luckily the wind was in our favour and was taking it away. A couple of hours later we came across the same chap who had zoomed past us, in the middle of the road, broken down. Lucky for him we drive slowly and had not overtaken him because the way his mind was thinking he was not going to fix it. Anyway, my boy Gavin tactfully diagnosed where the fuel line was blocked and we were soon chewing his dust again.

Back onto the Tanami road and Australian corrugations. We rather vainly hoped that the corrugations might change after we crossed in the Northern Territory. Yes our hopes were in vain. During a lunch stop Gavin noticed a wet patch on one axle, hmmm, we had not been through any water. It turned out to be fluid from our brand new Monroe heavy duty adventure shock absorbers. Oops there was a hole in it and so not much good any more. It must have just happened, how very odd we heard nothing, especially the speed at which we travel.

We carried on rather cautiously the final 400km to Alice Springs making a beeline for Repco, we had bought the shocks from a branch in Perth. We were a bit surprised and disappointed at the response to our problem and now have the address of the factory in Brisbane where we will be paying a visit with our useless shock absorber and make a nuisance of ourselves (the shock absorbers were really expensive).

Tonight we are staying in a caravan park. It has been a while since we enjoyed running hot water and are planning to explore a little more of the red centre before our dash, or rather bumble, towards Brisbane.

Bungle Bungle

2008-07-03T03:24:00.008+01:00

In the end we spent a week in and around Broome, and that was about long enough for us. After getting our fuel injection pump back and refitting it, we tentatively started the Land Rover, expecting that we would be able to hit the road again. Unfortunately though, we still had diesel leaking all over the place. One of the seals that had been replaced was slightly too thin, and we had to wait 24 hours whilst the correct one was ordered from Perth and air-freighted up to Broome overnight. Luckily this one could be replaced without removing the pump again. By lunchtime the next day, after the humiliation of being towed through Broome by a Toyota to the mechanic’s workshop, the new seal was in, and after a quick timing adjustment everything was running smoothly again - and no leaks. After stocking up at the local supermarket, filling our water tank and refuelling with 195 litres of diesel (we filled everything we could – it gets more expensive out of the big towns), we finally got away. That night we made it as far as a roadside rest area - one of many that are all set up for overnight stops with toilets and fireplaces – and found ourselves a spot in amongst the “grey nomads” in their caravans.

We had decided to have a crack at the Gibb River Road, which had been recommended as the best way to see the Kimberley region. After a quick lap of Derby we started on the road, which it is advised is only suitable for four wheel drive vehicles. Given that this time of the year is really the only time suitable to see the Kimberley, there was quite a lot of traffic on it and the gravel surface was very corrugated. In fact, we have nominated it as the most badly corrugated road we have been on so far – even worse than the infamous Moyale road in northern Kenya where we blew up a shock absorber in November last year. There are two schools of thought regarding driving over corrugations – one is to drive flat out and skim over the top (everyone else), and the other is to drive slowly enough to ride gently over each bump (us). So we cruised along nice and sedately while all the Toyota drivers screamed past covering us in dust. We found some fantastic bush camp sites, and thought we were going pretty well until we got a flat tyre which unfortunately turned out to be a cracked rim. We’re not sure whether it cracked because of the corrugations, or whether they just finished it off, but it’s now unserviceable. At lunchtime I got to reprise my tyre changing skills that I haven’t used since we bought the new tyres in Ethiopia. The main attraction in the Kimberley seems to be the Mitchell Falls, but that was too many corrugations away for us, so we satisfied ourselves with swimming at a couple of the smaller gorges along the route. After 500 kilometres of shuddering vibrations we emerged back on to the seal. We didn’t feel the need to visit Wyndham or Kunnunarra, but instead pointed south toward Hall’s Creek.

The next day we made it to the entrance to Purnululu National Park and the Bungle Bungle Range. Everyone we had spoken to said we had to go to the Bungle Bungles. The road in to the visitor’s centre is a rough 52km 4WD track, and there were a couple of groups of young French and German tourists trying to get lifts into the park because their Ford Falcon station wagon wasn’t suitable for the trip. One German girl came up and asked me if she and her friend could fit into the Land Rover. I was quite keen, but Catkin said “No way, Jose!” Just joking – we told them we going in to stay at one of the campsites, and they said they wanted a lift there and back in one day. We’re not sure if they ended up getting a lift or not.

Once we had paid our entry and camping fees we headed straight for the Piccaninny Creek carpark, and after lunch of sweetcorn fritters and fruit jelly (separately, of course) we spent the afternoon walking around the various tracks. The main attractions in the park are the dome-shaped formations and gorges, and the whole area is very photogenic. By the time we pulled in to the Walardi campsite, most of the good spots had gone, but acting on a tip we’d got from someone we had spoken to earlier in the day we headed for the “generator” area and found a nice spot close to a fireplace. That evening we sat around the campfire as our bread baked in the camp oven chatting to the three other couples camped in the same area. They were all caravanners, but were camping here because caravans cannot be towed into the park. We had a very entertaining evening listening to all their tales of their travels around Australia and sorting out all the world’s problems.

The next day we visited Echidna Chasm, which is a narrow gorge into which the sun shines only when directly overhead. We timed our visit for the middle of the day, so got to see it at its best. We did another short walk in the afternoon after lunch, and then made our way out of the park.

Since we left Perth nearly four weeks ago we have already travelled nearly 5000km, but still haven’t really got any closer to New Zealand. We have had our first “Shortest Day” since December 2005, although since we have crossed north over the Tropic of Capricorn we can’t really say we are in winter. The temperature during the day is still pretty hot, but it gets quite cool overnight. The sun rises here just before 6am and sets just after 5pm giving just over 11 hours of daylight. We have noticed that most of the caravanners seem to turn in at about 8pm – either that or they sit inside watching satellite TV while we sit outside listening to the BBC World Service… On the 25th of June we celebrated one year on the road, and although we both thought we would have been in New Zealand by now, we are still enjoying it. That’s not to say we aren’t looking forward to getting there, because we are, there’s just so much to see on the way…

Broom Broom to Broome

2008-06-26T05:52:00.009+01:00

Wiluna is at the southern end of the Canning Stock Route. The route is a 2000km long track that crosses The Little Sandy and the Great Sandy Desert. Initially it was a cattle drovers route made possible by the sinking of 50 odd wells by a team led by the surveyor Alfred Canning in the early 20th Century. It is hailed as the ultimate off-road adventure in Australia. Since reaching the end of Africa we had been planning to attempt this route.

The night before embarking on the Canning Stock route we were camped near to a couple of chaps, Terry and John, who had lost their wives somewhere between Melbourne and Wiluna and were headed along the same route as us, also looking for some off-road adventure. For various reasons they became known as the Hema Map Boys (something to do with the long distances they travelled on all of the back roads in the area). That night there was some ominous evidence in the sky of a front moving in from the north. Not to worry, everything we had read indicated that this was the dry season.

The next day we were up bright and early expecting the sun to be up with us. It was up, but behind the clouds. Undeterred we set off. The Hema Map Boys had set off a short time ahead of us but they were taking a detour to visit Well1. By the time we stopped for lunch it was decidedly chilly and windy, the sun had not shown its face yet. We carried on to Well 3 and by this time light drizzle had turned into sheets of rain. This well was quite impressive and had been fully restored. When we opened the lid there were many thumbnail frogs all piled on top of each other and periodically one would lose its balance and assume a sky-diving pose as it plummeted back down the abyss to the bottom of the well.

At this point the route is diverted onto a station track and there is a big sign indicating that this part of the route is a dry weather track only. So we were compelled to sit and wait it out. While we were waiting the Hema Map Boys arrived. We had expected them to overtake us ages ago but they had ended up taking a slightly longer detour than anticipated which had necessitated them returning to Wiluna for more diesel (yes they got lost).

As dusk fell the weather cleared up a bit but the boys who had been listening in to their HF radio had nothing but bad news. There was another front moving in from the east and all of the station access roads were closed. So we had a cheery campfire and decided to wait and see what the morning brought.

The morning brought even more bad news. There were people bogged in all over the show with no indication of how many days they were going to be stuck for. Even with our Michelin mud tyres we did not think we would be immune to the bogging. So after all that we turned around. We decided to head up to Newman, about 500km away, and see if we could find a way in to the route up there. The following day we arrived in Newman and bumped in to the Hema Map Boys again. They had yet more bad news for us. It seemed that every unsealed road within a 700km radius was closed. There was not much else for them to do but to turn around and head home, a week long journey. Such a shame but before they left John very kindly gave us his copy of “The Canning Stock Route” by Gard. We had visited just about every new and second-hand book shop in Perth but none had a copy.

Newman is home to the world’s largest open cast mine, from which high grade iron ore is extracted and then transported on the world’s longest private railway to Port Hedland. The trucks are just huge, they work 24 hours per day and during that time consume over 4700 litres of diesel. That is about the same volume of diesel we have used over the past year on this trip.

Over the last couple of days Gavin had noticed a new leak, only this time it was diesel originating from the fuel injection pump. Only a few drops per minute but enough to be of concern. We asked at one auto repairs place and they just send them back to Perth for servicing at rather considerable cost and time. Not something we really wanted to do- be stuck in a mining town in the middle of the outback governed by the twice daily shift change.

With a lemonade can carefully suspended under the pump to catch the drips (diesel is pretty dear in Australia) we carried on our way heading towards Broome where we hoped to get it unofficially serviced.

On the way we popped into the Karijini National Park where we spent a morning exploring the Dales Canyon with its pools and waterfalls. I had read that at this time of year the water is icy cold for swimming so had not taken my swimming togs. The water was a beautiful temperature and there were just a few too many people for me to go skinny dipping. I really am beginning to learn that one should not believe much of what one reads about the various conditions.

Two days later we emerged in Broome, a colourful tropical beachside resort town. The temperature also seem to have quite suddenly lifted also since leaving Newman and once again we are very pleased with our fridge supplying cold water and the odd treat of a lemonade or fruit jelly. Whilst in the Broome Visitors Centre Gavin was accosted by a young chap, JP, who having spied our car with UK plates decided that Gavin looked like a likely candidate to be the driver. Unsurprising really considering he really does need a haircut, has grown his customary winter facial hair and was wearing a holey and very faded T-shirt. JP was interested because he had also shipped his Land Rover over from the UK, was currently travelling around Australia and then planning to ship onto South Africa. We exchanged a few Quarantine horror stories- he certainly trumped us as he explained how he was forced to empty the refrigerant gas from his air conditioning unit. We arranged to meet up the next day as we went off to look for a mechanic. As luck would have we found such a place and with the fuel injector pump booked in for after the weekend we found ourselves with a bit of time on our hands. A little way north of Broome we spotted a bush camping area and so made a bee-line for Barred Creek.

Barred Creek turned out to be a warren of sandy tracks meandering through the tidal mangrove areas and forests of really slow growing gum trees. The next day we returned to Broome to catch up with JP and his friend Charles and also to view the local attraction known as Staircase to the Moon. As the full moon rises over the mud flats of a low spring tide the reflections result in a highly photogenic effect called Staircase to the Moon. Or so we are informed- it was cloudy that night. But there was a bit of a festival atmosphere, the town being full, with lots of food stalls and craft markets. So in exchange for a few tips on how to appease bribe happy African policemen (basically brush up on your Premier Football League knowledge) JP treated us to a tasty dish from one of the stalls.

Back out at Barred Creek we hid out for a few days. Enjoying a couple of hours on the deserted beach in the afternoons and exploring the area. One evening a couple of chaps pulled up asking where the good fishing spots were. When we responded that we did not know they wondered what on earth we were doing there if we weren’t fishing.

On our final evening, just as we were making a fire to bake bread we had heard a vehicle engine straining quite close by, it sounded as if was stuck in the sand. Not long after a chap turned up on foot asking for a tow. So off went Gavin to the rescue again and returned half an hour later with his new friend who joined us for a while round the fire. The following morning he turned up with loads of tins of food, that his mum had packed for him, to say thank you.

Yesterday morning we booked into a campsite, just off the beach and Gavin immediately set to disconnecting the fuel injector pump. Amazingly, nothing broke taking it out and today it is being fitted with a new O-ring at considerable cost- all of this for a blooming O-ring.

"The Outback Starts Here"

2008-06-12T08:52:00.005+01:00

We had one final errand to run before leaving Perth. Back in December when we replaced the front shock absorbers in Kenya, we had realised that the rear shocks were also due for replacement, and decided that we would get a new set in South Africa. We looked around in Cape Town, but couldn’t find the ones we wanted, so decided in the end to wait until we got to Australia. What we hadn’t counted on was that they are three times the price here. We considered having a pair shipped out from the UK, but although the shocks are cheaper, postage isn’t so it wasn’t worth it. We finally found the one store in Perth that had a pair in stock, so it was there that we headed before our Grande Departe.

It was mid afternoon on Saturday before we were actually on the road north. We had decided to follow the coast to Geraldton, and had spied a likely looking four-wheel-drive track to try things out on. Our first night out of Perth we stayed in the luxury of a caravan park at Ledge Point. The next morning saw us in Lancelin, looking for the start of the track. After a couple of wrong turns some local lads set us right. The track was sandy but firm, and was great fun. At one point we came across a stranded Toyota Hilux that had broken down in the middle of the track. The driver was about to call out the RAC for a tow, but after suggesting a couple of things we narrowed it down to his fuel filter and got him on his way.

After a no-horse town called Wedge the track became almost non-existent, but we plugged on. At one stage we were out on the beach with only a narrow strip of sand to drive on between the dunes and the tide.

Soon enough we turned inland again and the track became better defined once more, and eventually led us to the sealed road. Carrying on north, we found a great campsite at Sandy Cape.

It started raining overnight, and was quite stormy by the morning. We decamped to try and find a sheltered spot for breakfast, luckily finding a covered picnic table at Green Head. We still got wet though, while we waited for our porridge to cook.

From there it was a long drive through to Geraldton for lunch by the waterfront. From Geraldton, we planned to head east into the outback, so decided that now would be the best time to have a go a replacing the rear shocks, just in case anything else should need replacing at the same time. We have had so many stubborn fixings break when replacing parts in the past, and this time was no exception. I had already sprayed the fixings with GT85 lubricant well in advance to let it soak in and try and free things up, but sure enough, when trying to undo the top mount for the first shock the fixing sheared off. Unfortunately the fixing is not just a simple bolt, but required a whole new mounting. So once again, Catkin got to spend the rest of the day traipsing around the industrial areas trying to find the local Land Rover garage. Luckily, and thanks to some very helpful people, she did find one, and even more luckily they just happened to have one of what we needed in stock. Apparently they had ordered one in for a customer who had never picked it up. Catkin arrived back at the carpark over two hours after she had left, but with the required part in hand. By this stage it was too late to carry on, so with the old shock well and truly wired on to what was left of the mounting we went to find a campground for the night.

The following day we started again, taking even greater care with the top fixing on the other side of the vehicle. Fortunately this time it came off with out breaking, much to my relief. After this the whole job was completed relatively quickly, and we finally had our new shocks on. The improvement in the rear suspension was immediately noticeable.

Once that was done we were clear to go. We stopped on the way out of town to top up our fuel and water tanks, as well as filling up the jerry cans on the roof rack. With about 100 litres of water and 230 litres of diesel, as well as enough food to last for about three weeks or more, we were carrying more weight than we ever had before. We drove about 100km inland and found a great campsite beside a watering hole.

On the road between Yalgoo and Mt Magnet the next day we were waved down by an Aboriginal family in a V6 Commodore that wouldn’t go. We gave them a jump start which got them a few kilometres down the road before their car again stopped. In the end we towed them for about 60km to Mt Magnet, where they could have the car looked at. I think the guy was well and truly over looking at our spare tyre on the back door by the time we got there. All the way we were passed by the massive Road Trains.

Since then we have carried into ‘the interior’ and have reached Wiluna. There’s not much here, but now we have to decide where we head to next, based on track conditions, the weather forecast and local advice. It’s likely that we will be heading into some pretty remote areas for two or three weeks, so we probably won’t be able to update the blog for a while, even by text. Don’t worry though Mum, we bought a personal EPRIB before we left Perth, so if everything goes wrong we can at least set it off and await rescue.

On the road again

2008-06-07T03:26:00.004+01:00

After what seemed like endless pointless bureaucracy we have the car back and are heading north. We had anticipated a number of hurdles we would have to leap over in order for the car to be legal in Australia but had not realised just how problematic, time consuming and expensive this would be. Not wanting to whinge but here is a little story of how it went.

The day the car arrived in Fremantle the wharf workers were engaged in a stop work meeting for four hours, so little chance of getting the car off the wharf that day. The next day we were up bright and early for our two hour pubic transport journey down to Fremantle where we paid off the shipping company, visited Customs and the container depot whom we had engaged to retrieve our container. Our visit to Customs went rather well after a previously disastrous visit to another Customs office a few days earlier where some idiot stamped our carnet and then told us a whole load of nonsense explaining that we needed all sorts of documents that as it turned out we did not need. Basically the Customs officer in Fremantle was not interested in us because the carnet was already stamped and they did not even want to see the car or the contents.

The following day the container depot informed us that the container would be arriving in their depot that evening. We turned up at the depot the next morning to find out there had been a mistake and it was coming off the wharf that evening instead. Jan, of the depot was very kind and drove us back into Fremantle (about 6 km) and even arranged to collect us in the morning, she lived quite close to where we are staying. We enjoyed a spot of sightseeing around Fremantle which is a delightful old Port town and got chatting to a local who had lived there all his life watching the port change. Incidentally Fremantle was founded by a descendant of the current Fremantle family of Swanbourne, a very small village in England where I went to Primary School.

The following morning Jan and her husband David picked us up at 6.10 in the morning. Funnily enough they had driven from the UK to Australia in the 70’s in a brand new Austin Princess. By 7.10 am we were at the depot with our container being unlocked. The car was in the same condition we had left it in. Next was the quarantine inspection. It all seemed to be going fairly well, everything we declared was passed, the inside of the car was deemed clean enough it just needed a quick hose down and the radiator needed a clean out (we remembered about the radiator after we had put the car in the container). The depot also had a wash pit so David made space for us - there is usually quite a long waiting time for this. As the car was being water blasted still more dirt was coming out of it (how much more could there be?) but not only that, due it’s rather holey nature, dirt was washing back inside the car. Then we had rather a large stroke of bad luck.

We popped off for an hour to get a bite to eat and on returning we discovered that the original quarantine officer had been audited, his superior had heard that a car from Africa had arrived, and our car had been re-inspected and been gone over with a fine tooth comb and FAILED. It suddenly all felt rather hopeless, apparently such cars usually take at least a week of being water blasted and are pretty well dismantled in the process. However we were determined and set to re-scrubbing ourselves too and eventually late afternoon the car was passed, if sopping wet.

We cannot help but think that if we had not cleaned the car extensively ourselves already things would have turned out very differently due to the fact that it all served to make a good impression which interestingly did matter. Next to our car in the wash pit was a car, or rather a wreck, which had been imported from the States and the car was an absolute mess and filthy. We understand that basically the car was being left to rot for a few long weeks to get a clear and strong message to the owner. There were also some huge vehicles for the mining industry which were being dismantled and cleaned.

Unfortunately it was by now too late in the day to take the car to a vehicle testing station and being a Friday and Monday a Bank Holiday Tuesday was the soonest we could get it done. Indeed, although the car is fully taxed in the UK it still has to pass an inspection in Western Australia. Although we finally had the car, we could not use it because it was still not fully legal.

On the Tuesday by the time we had obtained a new permit to take the car the vehicle testing station we did not arrive until mid morning, the nearest one being miles a way in Perth Centre. Again, unfortunately for us they were closing early on this day so after queuing for a few hours were advised to return the following morning. OK, my patience is beginning to wear thin, but of course I am still smiling. The next morning we arrived back at the testing station 15 minutes after it opened and there were already 20 vehicles in front of us. Some people must have arrived before 5am.Funnily enough there were many of the same chaps in the queue as yesterday but with different cars. They worked for the car dealerships and each time a vehicle is sold it has to be inspected, so the dealerships employ people to take the vehicles to the testing station and wait there all day. Oddly enough private vehicles registered in Western Australia only need to be inspected if the registration lapses. This is just absurd- our vehicle has to be tested but an old hunk of junk only has to be if the police find something wrong with it as they are driving around.

Talking to the other chaps in the queue we learnt that the inspections are most rigorous and the vehicle can be failed on the most minor detail. Great. We notice that many of the cars being inspected are in fact being re-inspected having already failed. Finally, after queuing for 5 hours it is our turn. Our inspector is a very pleasant chap from Northern Ireland. “It’s pretty dry for a Land rover” he calls out from underneath, my heart swells with pride after all Gavin’s hard work on the leaks. 15 minutes later it is all passed. We cannot believe it. Our final errand is to visit the vehicle licensing department to pay for the compulsory 3rd party injury insurance.

IT IS ALL DONE

Today we say goodbye to Ian, Christine and her lovely boys, their hospitality has been wonderful and we set off on the final leg of the journey.

The Journey So Far...

2008-05-26T09:40:00.014+01:00

Having now departed African shores, and as we prepare to cross the Australian outback, now seems like a good time to recap on our journey so far.

We left London on 25 June 2007, still buzzing after the previous afternoon’s get-together at the Windmill Pub on Clapham Common where we were farewelled in style by our friends and family. The UK was in the middle of a wet summer, and it rained heavily as we headed out of London town on our way to Ash, where we stayed with friends before our ferry crossing the next morning.

We spent our first few days in Belgium, fine tuning our routines and storage arrangements. After a detour north to the Netherlands to stay with more friends, we pointed south, heading through Luxembourg and into France. We were still encountering a lot of rain, and the awning was paying for itself, giving us somewhere dry to cook and eat.

In southern France the rains finally eased and the temperature rose. Now we noticed that the engine temperature on the Land Rover seemed to rise quickly on hills, probably due to the amount of weight we were carrying.

Over the Alps into Italy to stay with more friends near Piacenza, we then headed for Venice to be tourists for a day. From Venice we headed north (weren’t we meant to be heading south?) into Austria. We even helped in a helicopter rescue of an injured walker near the Grossglockner High Alpine Road.

Our reason for going north was to visit the German equivalent of the AA, the ADAC, in Munich in order to collect our Carnet de Passages en Douane. This is the document that would enable us to take the Land Rover across borders without too much hassle. We also took the opportunity to have some steering components replaced and a wheel alignment whilst in Munich.

From Munich we headed north-east across Germany and the Czech Republic and into Poland so that we could visit Auschwitz Concentration Camp. This was an amazing place to visit, and brings a new level of comprehension of the atrocities carried out there and in other camps during World War II.

Southward bound again, we crossed Slovakia, with a slight deviation to Vienna to collect some mail. Vienna would be our last truly western city until Cape Town, so we celebrated making it that far by enjoying a Weiss bier on the banks of the Danube.

Slovenia was beautiful, and seemed like a lost fairy-tale kingdom. We enjoyed a hot day boating and swimming at Lake Bled, and we were amazed by the underworld-like Skocjan Caves. On to Croatia, and we nearly got blown away by the high winds coming over the mountains and slamming into the Adriatic Sea. It was a windy night in the roof tent.

Due to insurance restrictions we were unable to cross Bosnia and Serbia, so instead detoured around through Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria, where we spent a few days at the Black Sea.

The border with Turkey marked our exit from the European Union. Istanbul was fascinating – east and west crash together here. We spent a full day at Gallipoli, and for the most part had the place to ourselves. The walk from the shore at Anzac Cove up to Lone Pine and the top of Chunuk Bair really made us appreciate the difficulties and hardships faced by the Anzacs in 1915.

Across the Dardanelles, we were now officially in Asia. Our sight-seeing highlights included Troy and Ephesus. We enjoyed our two weeks or so in Turkey – the people were very friendly and hospitable. The carpet that we bought in Cappadocia will always bring back those special memories.

The only visas we had arranged before leaving the UK were for Syria, so we needed to be there before they expired. Syria has extremely cheap diesel, but charges a diesel tax of $100 per week. We exited after six days, having visited Aleppo, Crac des Chevalier, Palmyra and Damascus, and with nice full diesel tanks.

In Jordan we had intended to apply for transit visas to cross Saudi Arabia in order to get to the United Arab Emirates and Oman, but although we tried a few times we were refused. In the end we decided to revise our travel plans and drive through Egypt instead. We had a chance meeting with ‘The Duke’ who allowed us to camp on his land for the five days we were in Amman. After visiting Petra and Wadi Rum, we spent some time on the Red Sea in Aqaba diving while we waited for a new Carnet (to include Egypt). We made friends with a French family, Jeff, Estelle, Jeremie and Hugo, who were in the same predicament as us, and we were to see them again later in our travels.

Although part of Egypt, the Sinai Peninsula is very different to the rest of the country. We managed some more diving in Dahab, and the snorkelling at Ras Mohammed National Park was spectacular. After a quick trip to the top of Mt Sinai we made for Cairo, unfortunately arriving in the dark on a Saturday night. The traffic was the craziest we have ever seen. In Cairo we applied for and were granted visas for Sudan. In order to avoid the bustling Red Sea resorts on the coast and the compulsory convoys alongside the Nile, we headed to the Western Desert which forms the edge of the Sahara, and made our way to Luxor , where we made new friends in Louis the Dutchman and the Dutch Bikers Luuk and Guido. In Luxor we hired a couple of clapped out bicycles and spent a very hot day riding around, visiting the Valley of the Kings and seeing the ancient Egyptian tombs. The ferry to Sudan leaves from Aswan only once a week, though due to public holidays we were forced to wait an extra week before we could depart. Aswan is not really the best place in the world to kill a week. By this time, our French friends had caught up to us again, and another two motorcyclists from the UK, Cathy and Glyn, also arrived just in the nick of time to catch the weekly ferry.

For the first few days in Sudan we all travelled in convoy, made up of three four-wheel-drive vehicles and four motorcycles. This section of the journey, following the Nile toward Khartoum, was the roughest section of road we had encountered so far. Construction of a new highway is well underway, so soon there will be asphalt all the way. Cathy and Glyn eventually made their own way off, and then Jeremie came down with Appendicitis, so the French hurried off to Khartoum on their own. After getting our visas for Ethiopia we made an overnight trip to camp out near the dramatic windswept pyramids of Meroe, and then made for the border. Our travels in Sudan were confined to the northern areas, so we were well away from the trouble spots in the south and Darfur.

Within 24 hours of crossing the border into Ethiopia we had climbed 3000 metres in elevation, and the temperature had dropped by 30ºC. In fact, that night it dropped below freezing in the tent. The highlands were spectacular, and the highest we got to in the Land Rover was a pass at 4200 metres. After visiting the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela we made our way to Addis Ababa, and managed to track down Louis the Dutchman. It was good to see him again.

We exited Ethiopia through the less-travelled Omo Valley, coming into Kenya beside Lake Turkana. The roads in northern Kenya are pretty bad, and one of our front shock absorbers blew up a day from Nairobi. Highlights in Kenya included camping next to grazing hippos beside Lake Naivasha, and relaxing beside the Indian Ocean at Tiwi Beach. Fortunately we had departed Kenya well before the disputed elections.

Into Tanzania, and on to Dar es Salaam. We parked the Camel at a campsite and went to Zanzibar for four days. This was the longest we had been away from the vehicle, and it was hard to adjust to hotel rooms and bought food. The Spice Tour was great value. Back on the mainland and on our way to Malawi for Christmas, one of our front springs snapped. Luckily we could still drive with it, and managed to get a temporary replacement the next day.

We arrived at Chinteche Inn on the shore of Lake Malawi on Christmas Eve. Christmas dinner consisted of roast chicken and veges cooked on a fire in our cast-iron ‘potje’ (camp oven) and it was delicious.

For New Years’ Eve we made it to Flat Dogs Camp at South Luangwa National Park in Zambia. This was the beginning of the wet season, and it rained heavily to welcome the New Year in. We drove into the park and spent a day studying the game, seeing giraffes, zebras, elephants and even some lions among other creatures, as well as lots of birds. We completed our stay in Zambia with a day at Victoria Falls, where we even managed to walk over the bridge and put a foot in Zimbabwe.

In Botswana we drove through the Chobe National Park towards the Okavango Delta. Unfortunately we got a little stuck at one point, but with a little digging and jacking and a bit of a push from some locals we managed to get out and carry on along our way. On the way north to Namibia we went to the Tsodilo Hills, and saw some very interesting bushman rock paintings, thousands of years old.

One of Namibia’s most popular attractions is the watering holes of the Etosha National Park, but it had rained a few days before we arrived and consequently the animals no longer needed to frequent the holes for water. We had fun in the puddles though. Further north we saw the Epupa Falls before making our way to the Skeleton Coast and Swakopmund, then inland to Windhoek. Here we caught up on a few necessary jobs on the Land Rover, including installing a new fuel tank and set of front coil springs. We also visited the huge dunes at Sossusvlei, and we were lucky enough to have the whole place to ourselves.

The South African border was the most orderly we had been through in months. In Springbok we collected our friend Ianthe, who accompanied us for a couple of weeks as we zig-zagged our way down the coast to Cape Town. It was good to have someone along for the ride. We finally arrived at Cape Point just over eight months from when we had left London. In Cape Town we carried out a few more essential repairs, as well as taking the opportunity to have our gearbox and transfer box both looked at in preparation for the next leg of our journey. We visited a few of Catkin’s relatives, eventually making it to Knysna via Cape Agulhas, the southern-most tip of Africa. From here it was back to Cape Town to arrange shipping to Australia. After days and days of cleaning, scrubbing, polishing and repainting, we finally loaded the Land Rover into a container, and sent it by sea to Australia.

In the meantime, we spent another week or so in Cape Town before flying to Perth via Dubai. During our stopover we also took the opportunity to see some of Oman, with five nights in Muscat. We have now been in Perth for just over a week, trying to understand just how it is you go about temporarily importing a vehicle into Australia. The Camel is scheduled to arrive this week, so with a bit of luck, by the end of the week we will have convinced the Customs authorities to let us have it back. Then we can finally get on our way, into the outback.

In the eleven months since leaving England we have visited 31 countries in four continents, driven over 44,000 kilometres, crossed both the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn as well as the Equator. We have swum in the Black Sea, floated in the Dead Sea and scuba dived in the Red Sea. We have also swum in both the Indian Ocean (warm…) and the Atlantic Ocean (cold!). We’ve crossed deserts and mountain ranges, baked under hot sun and sheltered from torrential rain, but after 335 days on the road, we still have a great journey ahead of us before we finally get to little old New Zealand.

Coffee and Doughnuts

2008-05-18T16:21:00.002+01:00

Our little visit to the Royal Oman Police in Muscat didn’t quite go as planned. My mobile phone had gone missing somewhere around the time of our arrival in Muscat. I had it on the bus, but could not find it the next day in our hotel room. I was pretty sure it must have fallen out of my bag on the bus, but the bus company had not been able to find it so it seemed that it was gone for good. In order to satisfy the requirements of our travel insurance I needed to report it lost at a police station. I have never had to do this before, but thought it would just be a simple matter of the police filling out a form with the particulars and then giving me a copy. If only.

I first went to the police station nearest to our hotel on Thursday afternoon just after lunch, but after going through what it was I needed, I was told that everyone who could help had already finished for the day. As Friday is the weekend in the middle east, they told me to come back on Saturday morning. Saturday morning came around, but after explaining it all over again, was told to go to the bigger police station in another part of town. One of the locals sorted us out a taxi to get there more quickly, but although he had agreed a normal price, half way there the taxi driver reverted to the usual rip-off-the-tourist price, so we got out and walked the rest of the way (and he got nothing!). At the big police station, things still didn’t improve. First they claimed that because I had no record of the serial number that it would be impossible to report it lost. Then I was sent to ‘CID’. Finally someone senior decided that a report could be filed after all.

After loads of waiting around a portly police officer finally filled out a form with all the relevant details. Everything was in Arabic, but it was a start. All I wanted was a copy of the report, but it was against their rules to release this, they said. Instead, they would use it to type a letter (again all in Arabic), which we would then have to take to the main police headquarters for them to provide us with an official letter to the insurance company (not quite what we were after). By this stage, however, there was no time for us to get to the HQ before it closed at 2pm, and even if there was, nobody could tell us where it actually was anyway! And, no, we couldn’t go tomorrow, as we were heading back on the bus to Dubai at 7am. In the end, as everyone was leaving for the day, one of the CID guys told me he would email it to me the following day. We left empty-handed and without much hope of ever getting anything by email (sure enough, nothing has arrived).

We had left our hotel that morning intending to go to the Oman Dive Centre and at least do a bit of snorkelling, but it was now getting on for 3pm, and the only way to get there if you don’t have your own vehicle is, you guessed it, by rip-off taxi. In the end we decided to head back to the air-conditioned luxury of our hotel room. On foot, of course. Another one hour walk. In 45ºC heat… We’ll teach those taxi drivers a lesson.

It was now our last night in Muscat, and after posting Catkin’s blog entry, we wandered once more along the Corniche and through the souq (market). Catkin haggled for some frankincense, and we bought some Halwa, a very rich Omani sweet. It is so sickly sweet that your teeth almost drop out just looking at it. We finished off the evening at our favourite shwarma (like a kebab) shop, and then retired to our room to pack our bags and watch ‘Pimp my Ride’ on TV (at least it’s in English).

Next morning it was up at 5am to scoff our bread and cheese for breakfast before another one hour walk back to the bus station. At least at 5.30am the temperature was only 34ºC. The trip back to Dubai was uneventful, although the bus was much fuller than on the way out. The stamps out of Oman and back into the United Arab Emirates filled up another page of my passport (not many left now). Once back in Dubai our plan was to head for Abu Dhabi, as we had arranged to meet a friend from the UK who is now living and working there. We were offered a taxi ride to the bus station for only 40 Dirhams, but unfortunately for the driver we already knew we could get there for only 4 Dirhams on another bus. The bus to the Emirate of Abu Dhabi was waiting when we got to the station, and within two hours we were pounding the pavements towards our friend’s hotel. Paul has been there for two or three weeks and seemed to be enjoying the ex-pat life. We had a great night drinking beer in the hotel bar, and he managed to sneak us up to his room for a free night on the floor. We were very grateful, as our accommodation costs were beginning to stretch the budget. We had found that food, drink and public transport were very good value in Oman and UAE, but ‘budget accommodation’ seems to be aimed at someone else’s budget – not ours.

First thing the next morning it was back to the bus station and back to Dubai. We had already booked into the Dubai YHA, so jumped on another bus to get there and check in for our final night in town. The YHA has a great swimming pool which we hadn’t managed to use during our first stay there, but we whiled away the rest of the day soaking in the cool water. Later that evening we wandered up the road to the LuLu Hypermarket for another of their great value pizzas.

We had planned our trip to the airport reasonably well, I thought. Up at 6.00, pack, check out, breakfast at 7.00, out to the bus stop at 7.15, plenty of time to be at the airport by 8.30am. What we hadn’t allowed for was that the bus that is scheduled to run every 20 minutes often doesn’t turn up for an hour and a half… We only found this out when talking to a local commuter, after standing at the bus stop for over an hour. Of course, a taxi was out of the question. The bus did finally arrive, and although it was packed, we managed to squeeze on with our packs without knocking over too many locals in the process. We were late to the airport, but luckily we had already checked in on-line, and the flight was quite empty anyway, so we breezed through check-in. The only drama was me setting off the metal detector and having to take off my boots and go through again in my socks. Twice. We had 30 Dirhams left to spend, and in Duty Free finally found a copy of ‘A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian’ which Catkin’s Mum had recommended in a comment on the blog many months ago.

Emirates Airlines have an amazing selection of movies and entertainment – so much, in fact, that you don’t know what to watch first. At one point I found myself watching a stupid movie called ‘Mr Woodcock,’ about a PE teacher at an American High School, which is ironic because I also had a PE teacher called Mr Woodcock (funnily enough, not the same guy…). I also managed to watch a few episodes of ‘Russell Coight’s All Aussie Adventures,’ so am now all clued up about travel in the Australian outback. One movie we both enjoyed watching was ‘Goodbye Bafana’, about one of Nelson Mandela’s jailors during his time on Robben Island and then on the mainland leading up to his release. Having spent time in South Africa and visited Robben Island, it presented a very interesting perspective.

We have now crept into Perth, Australia, under cover of darkness. By the time we arrived it seemed like we had been travelling almost constantly for three days since leaving Muscat on Sunday morning. Perth looks like a really nice place, although the temperature when we arrived was nearly 40 degrees cooler than what we had experienced in Muscat a few days earlier. We are glad now that we lugged some warm clothing around with us through those hot climates.

We decided to try reporting the phone lost in Australia, to at least have something to give the insurance company. Sure enough, five minutes later it was done. So it doesn’t have to be a test of human perseverance after all.

It is still over a week until we expect the ship carrying the container with the Land Rover inside to arrive. In the meantime we are staying at my cousin’s place with her family, and they are looking after us well. We have been searching for books to buy to help us to plan our route across the outback, as well as one to tell us about all the creatures to be wary of. So far on our journey, we have had only one confirmed sighting of a snake - a big puff adder in South Africa - and only a few scorpions and other nasties at various times. Despite the impending threat of death and disability from the Australian wildlife, we are looking forward to getting back on the road again.

Arabian Nights

2008-05-10T17:14:00.008+01:00

Seeing as we missed off the Arabian Peninsula (thanks to the Saudi government) when we were passing by earlier on in the trip, we decided to take the opportunity of a stopover in Dubai en-route to Perth. However we still had some time to kill in South Africa as we wanted to ensure that the car had departed South African shores before we did and then there would be nearly another month before the car will arrive in Perth (via Malaysia). So we remained in beautiful Cape Town for another nine days. Plenty of time we thought for activities such as diving and taking a trip on the Cable car. This was before we realised that during our final week there were three, yes three public holidays and fairly changeable and windy weather.

As it turned out, when it was good for us go diving, the conditions were not suitable. Oh well, we thought, the diving in Oman is apparently rather good so we will just have to wait until we are there. On another beautifully clear morning we decided to take a hike up Platteklip Gorge (the particularly steep ascent up Table Mountain) with the intention of taking the cable car down (I really hate steep downhills, unless I am on a mountain bike or snowboard of course). Remembering that the last time we tried to take the cable car it was closed due to high winds we kept an eye on the cable car as we walked up to the entrance to the gorge part, especially as the wind did seem to be increasing. Thankfully we had kept a good eye on it because by the time we reached the start, yes the cable car had stopped running. We did not see it running again until the day we flew out.

Nevertheless we still enjoyed some lovely walks, right from the centre of Cape Town, up to Signal Hill and on to Lions Head, which afforded fantastic views of Cape Town and the coast.

Of course after we waved goodbye to the car we also lost our accommodation. Hardekraaltjie Campsite, however, had some cabins for rent which were considerably cheaper than a backpackers. So we moved into Rose cabin for a few nights. Rose cabin came equipped with beds, a kettle, a few aluminium pans (great for burning food) a blunt kitchen knife and a fridge. It is amazing how quickly our routine changed as we adapted to our little cabin. Losing the car also meant that we had to walk everywhere now, although one day our neighbours from when we had been camping gave us a lift to the supermarket.

A couple of days before we were due to leave Cape Town we decided to move into the centre of the city. Hardekraaltjie was a half hour walk from the train station and the train ride was another half hour into Cape Town, and the trains did not run very frequently. On a previous day we had visited a few backpackers and eventually selected one which was pretty central and seemed to be fairly quiet- we were not looking for party central, although most of the backpackers in the city are in the partying area. Unfortunately we did not view it at 4am, but it was not the other backpackers that were the problem - it was the morons outside. The noise did not stop until gone 6am. These idiots would drive around in some crappy car with a souped up stereo playing their music so loud it made our whole room vibrate (on the third floor), then they would hoot their horns continuously for minutes on end, then the police would join in switching their sirens on and off while other cars sped up and down the street with cars double parked on either side before slamming their brakes on. I was almost expecting someone to tip a drum of oil onto the road so they could skid into it. One really sophisticated chap, with a couple of ladies in tow, decided to make his own disco on the pavement. While the ladies all hung around swaying to the music emanating from his car clutching their bottles of beer, he most indiscreetly took rather a long pee- oh how we wished we had our super powerful torch with us.

After two rather sleepless nights we headed out to the airport and out of Africa. The easiest way to get to the airport is to take a shuttle. This was for us, though, rather expensive so we took a train and walked from the train station. Clearly this does happen very often. The train ticket vendor was rather surprised when I asked for 2 first class tickets to Lavistown and as we walked through the litter strewn neighbourhood after dismounting from the train it became clear that white people walking round with backpacks did not happen every day. Nonetheless everybody was polite and also everybody we passed greeted us and we arrived at the airport unscathed.

We landed in Dubai on a warm and smoggy morning and negotiated our way to the Youth Hostel by bus. We then headed into town at 8am because we could not check in until 14.00. We spent ages wandering around trying to find a coffee shop that was open, just to have a drink and get out of the sun. On our previous forays into Arabic countries we never fully appreciated that there is nothing open in the morning. The following days we walked down the same streets in the late afternoon and it could have been a completely different place, all the shops and cafes were open and there were so many people around.

We did find a bit of life at the wharf where immigrant labourers were loading/ unloading dhows in what seemed to us a most precarious manner. After wandering through the Gold Souk and many other street including the car spare parts quarter (one of the best we have seen on the trip so far) we eventually found an air-conditioned coffee shop in a mall where we hid out for a couple of hours until it was time to claim our room at the Youth Hostel. It is a good thing we are not here in the middle of summer - at least it is only 45ºC at the moment.

Over the next couple of days we managed a bit of sightseeing. Dubai is a much more interesting city than I had imagined. We enjoyed some brief respite from the stifling heat when we made the quick trip across the creek on an Abra. These rather small but sturdy boats zip across the creek racing each other in a manner distinctly reminiscent of dodgem cars, especially when it comes to parking - this really is parking by feel. In the twilight we visited a restored area of old merchants houses with wind towers and courtyards. We viewed the inside of one which now houses a philatelic museum, it really was most interesting and enlightening. Stamp collecting has taken on a new meaning for me.

Another day we navigated our way out to Jumeira which is home to the iconic sail building (which is an hotel) of Dubai. This area of Dubai even has air-conditioned bus shelters. There are signs prohibiting eating food in them. I am sure that this is to stop people having picnics in the cool of the bus shelter. We also spent a couple of refreshing hours on the beach right opposite the famous “World” development a little way out to sea. However, we saw nothing through the smog and haze.

Although the Youth Hostel does not have a kitchen (they seem to have changed quite a bit since I last stayed in one) the street food in both Dubai and Oman has been really good value and tasty, mainly with Indian or Lebanese influences. However, one night we ended up with some food that was just a little too spicy for Gavin’s palette. Luckily for me I got to polish of the wonderfully tender chunks of lamb.

By now it was time to head towards Oman and Muscat. We had heard of a dive centre a little way out of Muscat which also rented out cabins on the beach for a reasonable price. It sounded so perfect. After a couple of days in Dubai I started to come down with a cold. Bad news for divers - a cold and diving is a nasty combination. So although I have not felt unwell at all with this stupid cold, I cannot dive. Ok we thought, why don’t we just head out to the dive centre anyway and hopefully it will improve? Well despite all our attempts to make contact with the Oman Dive Centre (from South Africa, Dubai and Muscat) we have heard nothing. Their phone numbers do not seem to work and they did not respond to our emails. Also when we could finally access their website it seems that their cabin prices have increased by 400%. So on our final day in Muscat, incidentally I am still very snotty, we thought we would go out to the dive centre and just go snorkelling. We just had the small matter of reporting a lost mobile phone to the police to complete. The phone had been lost a few days earlier but when Gavin had tried to report it he was asked to return to the police station after the weekend. Gavin will give you an indication of just how futile such a process is Oman in his next post, but needless to say four hours later we had achieved nothing and no time left to get to the dive centre.

As is commonly the case, things often turn out very differently to how we anticipated but we have had a very interesting time in Oman. We have been staying in an hotel overlooking the harbour and port in Muscat (Mutrah), which feels more like a small town than part of the capital city.

We walked along the Corniche to the old walled city of Muscat and spent an interesting hour or so in the city wall museum developing insight into Omani history and culture. Despite its rather delayed entrance to modernity the country seems to be very well developed and so much cleaner than most of the countries we have passed through since leaving Europe. The Omani border post is certainly the most grand either of us has visited. We even picked up a complimentary map of the country. How ironic that there are so many countries we have been through with no map available at all and the only one we don’t drive to ourselves has a map.

Another day we managed to find our way to Qurm beach about 10 km away which involved a bit of a walk. Here the distances when walking seem to more than double due to the heat and we have not had very good experiences with taxi drivers - again Gavin will explain. We had hoped to find some food along the way, according to our map we would walk past a major mall, but of course at 11am on a Friday nothing seemed to be open. So we had a lovely few hours on the beach with our 2 oranges to sustain us. In an effort to retain some modesty I initially kept my shorts on over my bikini, but all the men stared at me anyway, when I was sitting on the beach and when I went in the water. So after seeing some other western women bravely wearing bikinis I followed suit, but I certainly would not have behaved so rashly if Gavin had not been there.

On the way back to the bus we passed an open coffee shop so we ducked in for samoosas - yes I have managed to convert Gavin, although it is more to do with desperation as the samoosas here are not spicy.

It has been a bit of a culture shock coming here. Not only do we not have all the comforts of camping and our car but the whole rhythm of life is so different. One aspect of this that is so liberating for us is that we do not have to worry about being somewhere safe when it gets dark. In Cape Town, especially as the nights were drawing in, we needed to ensure that we could catch a train in time so that we were not walking back to the campsite in the dark. Whereas here it only starts to get lively in the evening, when it cools down enough to sit outside.

2008-05-02T22:46:00.001+01:00

Time to make like Karen Blixen and get Out Of Africa. In departures now. Nobody has guessed correctly where to yet. Keep trying...

Extra-Vehicular Operations

2008-04-25T12:20:00.011+01:00

The inevitable delays in our arrangements for shipping meant we had time for even more cleaning and preparation of the vehicle for its long awaited debut on the Australian scene. The shipping industry is big, and moves thousands of containers around the world every week, but when you are just two people trying to transport one vehicle in one container you are only a tiny part of a very big picture. Suffice to say that our hopes to have the Camel in a container by the end of last week were in vain. We had spent the first part of the week furiously trying to complete the last minute jobs that needed doing.

As Catkin had mentioned, I had been concerned about the leak from our power steering box which had slowly become worse over the previous weeks. Our visit to Schalk Burger (the highly recommended mechanic, not the Springbok) the previous week hadn’t been completely in vain, for although he wouldn’t have been able to look at the box for us for another week and a half, he did suggest a couple of other places who might be able to look at it sooner. He was also very interested in our journey, and has a huge map of Africa on the wall of his workshop, presumably so all his customers can show him where they had been, where they had got stuck, where they had smashed their suspension that he would be about to repair, etc.

We tried both places Schalk had suggested for the repair. The first quoted quite a high price, but for the work involved it wasn’t really that unreasonable. The second said that they don’t really fix the boxes, they just replace them with new ones, which are about three times the price we had been quoted for the repair previously. The workshop manager then told me that it might be possible for me to replace the existing seals without doing a full rebuild, if I was keen to give it a go. Actually, I was keen for someone else to give it a go, but it was the cheapest option, so obviously the one for us. The guy was really helpful, photocopying the exploded drawing of the box showing all the parts and giving me quite a few handy hints from the last time he had done the same job.

I tackled the job the next day, and it took the whole day to get the box out, replace the seals and get it all back together again. It would have been much quicker, but in true Land Rover fashion, most bolts or fittings were in inaccessible places, and when you finally got to them they wouldn’t undo anyway. Catkin’s smaller hands were called upon to reach through small gaps between other parts, and she spent another afternoon traipsing around the local industrial area looking for a circlip to replace one that had broken. Nobody had the right size, so the broken one has ended up going back in. By the time everything was back together it was well and truly dark.

All of our scrubbing, and the use of a water blaster, over the previous weeks had finally got rid of most of the caked on lime we had picked up in the Etosha National Park in Namibia nearly three months earlier. It had also removed a good deal of the protective coating on the chassis and underbody as well. We had already decided that a new coating would not only help protect the steel chassis, but would hopefully also serious impress the Australian quarantine official we he or she inspected the vehicle for cleanliness in Fremantle. We found a paint factory nearby, and they sold us a can of their special black chassis and underbody sealer. Another full day was spent wriggling around underneath the Land Rover reaching into every nook and cranny with different shapes and sizes of paintbrush. It was a pretty messy job (I still have paint on me in places I can’t even see) but worth it, as it came up really well. Hopefully it impresses those Aussies…

Throughout our long and tortuous travels we had managed to accumulate not an inconsiderable amount of extra ‘stuff’. Pamphlets, maps, books and souvenirs were all taking up valuable space, along with some items we had brought from England but barely or never used. We wanted to streamline our operation, but more importantly needed to make room for all the wine we had bought in South Africa. We had made enquiries with a few shifting companies but none bothered to reply, so we have ended up sending two rather large boxes to New Zealand by post. We can now fit almost everything into our eight crates in the back, so it’s much more organised. A place for everything and everything in its place. I love it. I’m sure my sisters won’t love it so much when they have to go and pick up two 30 kilogramme boxes from the post office.

We even went out for dinner one night last week. A friend and former colleague of mine, Albert, and his wife Aggie were in Cape Town. We had last seen them when they had been at our leaving do at the pub on Clapham Common. It was good to see them both again and hear their news.

By now we had all but confirmed that we would be loading the Camel into a container at the port on Wednesday 23 April. To celebrate our third to last night camping in Africa, and our final African full moon, we decided a special dinner was in order. We had been on the continent for seven months. Roast lamb is one of our favourites, and it was delicious. Catkin has honed her potje technique to perfection. My getting charcoal to burn using turps is coming along nicely, too, thanks.

Later that night we had the most excitement we had seen for a very long time. We had been camping in the same campsite in Cape Town for almost two weeks, which is the longest we have stayed at one place since leaving the UK last June. There were a few permanent and long term residents, people came and went, some guy practises his driving around the campsite everyday, but really nothing much happens. Probably the most interesting thing was for the other campers watching us do our almost daily ritual of unpacking everything from the back of the Land rover and spreading it all over to grass around the vehicle before packing it all in again at the end of the day. A few days before, an overland tour truck had arrived at the campsite, but we didn’t think much of it. On this night, however, the police suddenly swooped on it, set up flood lights and proceeded to spend a few hours searching around in the back of the truck. We were coming up with all sorts of murder and espionage theories. Later the customs officers arrived – it turned out the driver had been smuggling goods into the country.

Finally, the day we have all been waiting for arrived – “containerisation day.” We had spent the previous night packing our bags with what we would need for the few weeks the Land Rover would be at sea. The vehicle was clean inside and out, and we had managed to stop all the oil leaks. Well, nearly anyway. We had been told that we could not ship with any more than a quarter full tank of fuel, so had made sure that it was showing just under a quarter (the small tank – if they had checked the big one it was just over a quarter full…). At the container depot the customs agent checked registration, engine and chassis numbers and signed off our carnet.

My major concern was fitting the vehicle into the container with the roofrack on. I was pretty sure that the tent would be too high and would have to come off, but was hoping that provided we dropped the sand ladders down a notch and laid all the jerry cans flat, that we could leave the roof rack on. The highest point would be the two rails on the jerry can rack, but I had measured the height against what I had been informed was the clear door height of a standard 20ft container and was certain that if we let the back tyres down to a third of their normal pressure, we would be okay. It worked, because we just sneaked it in. The port workers proceeded to nail chocks to the container floor and strap the Camel securely into the container so that it wouldn’t rock around too much on the high seas. The final task, again in preparation for Australia, was fumigation. The container was closed and Methyl Bromide was pumped in. We stood clear (me especially). The container was sealed, and for good measure I put two of our own padlocks on the doors. All going well we will see it again in Fremantle in just under a month. The vehicle was containerised; we were now officially on EVO.

In the meantime, in the absence of finding any sea passage between South Africa and Australia, we have booked ourselves flights to Perth, with a stopover to kill some time. Details of our mystery destination will follow in due course.

We have another week in Cape Town, and are hoping to go diving, despite the cooler water temperatures. Our last dive was in Dahab, Egypt, so it has been, well, seven months. How time flies. We are still at the same campground, but have moved into a cabin. It is extremely strange, though, not having the vehicle and all our gear, and a list of jobs to attend to. I have had to go and buy the latest Land Rover magazine to compensate.

Finally, today is Anzac day, which for me now is even more solemn, having been privileged to be able to visit Anzac Cove when we were in Turkey in August, walking on the beach and climbing the hills to Lone Pine and Chunuk Bair. It was mostly deserted when we were there, which I understand is a far cry from what is normally like at this time of year. What surprised us was the numbers of Turkish there, which stands to reason, as it is one of their great victories under the future leader Ataturk. The other special memory we have of our visit there is the genuine friendliness and hospitality of the Turkish people. It was one of the highlights of our trip so far.

Anyway, enough rambling from me. More news soon, and maybe even a special bumper issue in the not too distant future.

Cakes!

2008-04-21T09:03:00.000+01:00

Happy birthday Danielle. Hope you remembered to buy cakes for everyone at work... Whoops, perhaps I shouldn't have said anything!

We are still in possession of the Camel - arranging shipping is a slow process. It's as clean now as it has ever been though. Hopefully into its little box on Wednesday.

More from us in a few days.

The Road to Hell

2008-04-14T13:27:00.009+01:00

We had a relaxing time with Graham and Yvonne, although much more relaxing for me because I was not in the “Stopping oil leaks brigade”. Yvonne even took me to her hairdresser and I had a very much needed hair cut. My efforts at hacking off the end of my plats periodically was not really the best plan despite Patsy’s valiant attempt to tidy it all up in Paarl. It was also exciting to receive some mail which a few people had sent to Graham and Yvonne’s. Bank statements have never been so interesting.

The Garden Route of South Africa is really rather lovely and aptly named. It is such a verdant and lush area. Yvonne took us to their local farmers market and the produce really is amongst the best in the world I think, such delicious food. There is so much to do in the area and we did manage a short hike but as we had finally made up our minds to ship to Australia we were keen to get to it back in Cape Town.

With our tummies full of the results of Yvonne’s lovely cooking we carried on to Knysna before heading back to Cape Town via The Klein Karoo. We spent a few days exploring the dirt tracks and steep mountain passes. The road to Die Hell took us over the Swartberg pass, a very scenic road, through arid vegetation for ages and then suddenly we dropped down into a green valley dotted all over with Aloe Vera. This place is in the middle of nowhere and the road, tortuously clinging to the side of the mountain, was built to serve a very small farming community many years ago. WHY? Surely there are easier places to get to find for farming.

The next day we arrived back in civilisation and stopped in some very pretty towns, although they are looking to be very much in need of upkeep and maintenance. After a fresh chip butty in Calitzdorp we headed in to the wine and fruit area. No doubt about it, it is harvest time. Many times we got stuck behind lorries heavily laden with fruit crates on the windy roads. We also passed many large areas of fruit drying in the sun.

We had been recommended a mechanic in Strand and Gavin was a bit concerned about leak from the steering box so we made a bit of a detour to ask Schaulk’s opinion. Apparently the steering box is a particularly fiddly device and Schaulk could not fit us in for another ten days or so. This meant that shipping would be delayed by another week. Schaulk suggested a couple of other workshops we could try. One gave us a rather large quote and the other reckoned that Gavin should be able to change the seals himself- it would be quite difficult though.

We spent two nights in Strand at a rather strange campsite. It seems that many years ago part of the campsite was retained as a campsite and the rest became a sort of “white” squatter camp. The living conditions inside were certainly much better than the other squatter camp we visited in Cape Town, but it was rather bizarre.

We have been camped in Bellville, Cape Town for quite a few nights now. It is convenient for the shops, and more importantly- the industrial areas, which yet again I am getting to know very well. I am even getting to know the street hawkers now, they cannot understand why I am walking everywhere rather than driving. Gavin has repaired the leaking steering box and had such trouble with it that even my assistance was required- yes I was actually allowed under the car.

So we have scrubbed, hosed, power washed, scrubbed, hosed, washed, polished and even painted some parts of the car in preparation for the very fussy Australian officials. We started doing this before Easter and I think we are just about there. I now defy an Australian to find any Saharan sand, Nile silt, Ethiopian road dust, red African dust, Botswana bog or Etosha lime in any nook or cranny. As for the oil leaks I am sure Gavin will give a detailed account in the vehicle blog for anyone who is interested.

We are provisionally waving goodbye to the old car on Thursday or Friday and then all we have to sort out is……. how we are going to get to Australia. We are reluctant to book anything too soon in case anything should change with the shipping.

So, where to next?

2008-04-03T09:34:00.005+01:00

Since Catkin posted her last entry we’ve been busy with a bit of visiting relatives, a little bit of sight-seeing and a whole lot of deliberating. So what have we decided and where are we off to next, I hear you all ask. Patience, young Skywalker.

For the first few nights of the Easter holiday we headed back to the Zandvlei Caravan Park in Muizenburg. The previous time we stayed there it had been very quiet, with a couple of permanent residents and a few others staying. This time, however, it was packed with partying South Africans. The permanent residents obviously knew what happens, and had left for the weekend. Party Central. The first two nights were very rowdy, and Catkin spent the whole night storming around the campground asking people to turn their music down, by which she actually meant off. Most of them were fairly cooperative. I slept like a baby, until one incident on the second night, when I woke up and had to politely tell a guy to take a running jump. Things changed on the third night, though, and a security guard spent the night driving around telling people on his PA system to turn off the music or there would be Trouble.

For the remainder of the Easter weekend, we caught up with Catkin’s Uncle and Aunt, Deric and Val, at their place in Hout Bay. Her cousin Clare, Clare’s husband Chris and their daughter Sophie were also out from England, so it was good to see them all. The house has a spectacular view over the bay. We spent our time there relaxing, watching telly and eating delicious food. It was great.

On the 25th of March it was finally time to get back on the road and head out of Dodge. It was nine months to the day since we had left the UK, and after a very scenic drive along the coast, by the end of the day we had finally made it to Cape Agulhas, the southern-most tip of Africa, where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. It was a symbolic point in our journey, not least because even though we had zig-zagged our way all over Europe, around the Mediterranean, though the Middle East and all the way down Africa, we had generally been heading in a southerly direction. Now we could go no further south.

The following day we made our way eastward, to George, and then slightly further, to Wilderness (what a great name for a town). Here we made our way to the home of another of Catkin’s relatives, Graham and Yvonne and family. In Wilderness we have had a chance to attend to a few more jobs on the Land Rover, as well as further contemplate and research our next move.

In anticipation that we would be going to Australia we have been going over the car trying to eliminate oil leaks. For those who don’t know, Land Rovers are notorious for dropping oil (that’s how you know there’s still oil in it), but the regulations for importation into Australia state the there must be NO oil leaks. The work on the gearboxes sorted out a couple, but we still had another couple from the engine and one from the rear diff to resolve. We had bought a pinion seal for the rear diff in Cape Town, but I’m not convinced that I’ve been sold the correct one, so have yet to tackle that job. We have, however, successfully tackled the engine leaks, replacing an ‘O’ ring on the oil filter adapter and removing and re-sealing the sump (as well as taking out the mystery dent in the bottom of the sump pan!?!).

So that only leaves our deliberations. Do we ship the vehicle to Australia, or do we just ship it straight to New Zealand? We’ve already had an amazing trip so far, and spent slightly more than we thought we would, so could save cash by missing out Australia. But it’s quite a large part of the trip we initially planned, and we had both been looking forward to it. We got some prices for shipping and agents – the South African agent fees were reasonable, freight was about what we expected, but the Australian agent fees nearly doubled the cost of the whole exercise. When we queried the cost and possible ways we could reduce it, we were told “we cannot reduce the price for this service.” Thanks for your help. We started to think that maybe it would just be too expensive, especially if we were going to have the same problem again getting the vehicle out of Australia. Maybe we should spend another four to six weeks in South Africa and then just send it straight to Auckland. It would be a shame though, to miss out on the Great Southern Land. Perhaps we could travel across Australia by other means. Maybe we could buy bikes and cycle across the Nullarbor (Catkin got really excited about this idea – I regretted mentioning it…). We also looked at buying a motorbike and going across two-up, but a suitable bike would be quite expensive. Perhaps we could leave the bike in Australia for a year or two and go back for holidays, or maybe import it into New Zealand. We ended up with all sorts of ideas, almost too many to choose from. It was looking very likely, though, that the Land Rover would not be getting to see Australia, whether we did or not. We have even considered throwing dice, or better still, asking for votes via comments on the blog.

In the meantime, I had emailed my cousin in Perth, and my Uncle near Brisbane to see if they could find out any information from the Australian side of things. Luckily, their outstanding efforts have brought back some very useful information, with a much more reasonable agent’s fee at the Perth end, and a couple of respectable looking quotes for shipping from Brisbane to Auckland. So much better, in fact, that shipping to Australia has become feasible after all.

So now we are back to full steam ahead preparing the vehicle for Australian shores. It needs to be spotlessly clean, no dust, soil, water, insects, bugs, fruit, vegetables, anything that pests could arrive in. Oh, and no oil leaks.

From Wilderness, we will probably go slightly further east to Plettenberg Bay, then make our way back to Cape Town for the final departure arrangements.

So Riggsy, it looks like Giles owes you a pint of London Pride at Motspur Park.

2008-03-25T18:59:00.001Z

9 months to the day since leaving London and we are at Cape Agulhas, southern-most point of Africa. Had a great time in Cape Town, now headed for George.

We came for dinner and stayed a week

2008-03-20T13:42:00.007Z

Well, it was longer than a week, but I will get back to that later.

Up in Paarl we spent a few very relaxing days with Patsy in her comfortable home. It really was decidedly strange, but very welcome, to be in a home again. Although I must admit that it has taken me over a week to get used to sleeping in a bed again and initially I found myself sleeping on the floor. We also caught up with her husband Mike, who has written many articles and books for “Getaway,” a South African travel magazine, sharing stories of Africa.

During our stay at Patsy’s Gavin had another look at our leaking NEW fuel tank. Not really a minor job. It involved removing the drinking water tank, the step, the fuel tank guard, the exhaust and finally the fuel tank. This time the fault was with a dodgy NEW part attached to the fuel tank. In no time at all (many hours later) Gavin had used some magic silicone stuff and the leak was no more. We also made use of Patsy’s washing machine, for the first time since leaving the UK. I was a bit surprised to note that pretty much all of our clothes fitted into one wash.

We took the scenic route back to Cape Town via Stellenbosch and enjoyed a delicious lunch at a vineyard to celebrate my birthday and even bought a few of their wines to take home to New Zealand. I think Gavin was a little surprised at the excellent value the wines and dining in South Africa are. Also the vineyards are in such delightful locations, it really was a treat.

Having decided to have the work to our gearbox completed, we emptied out the car back at Charles and Vals and first thing Monday morning drove it round to the gearbox exchange. Gavin coped very well with the emotional wrench of being separated from the car and handing it over for someone else to work on. It was rather odd not having the car. The next day we trundled back to the workshop to find out what the problem had been and how much it was going to cost us- so I spent my birthday hanging around a workshop looking at our gearbox in pieces. The quote was very reasonable so not such a bad birthday gift. That evening the Kadalies (always keen for cake) took us for cake all the way over to Camps Bay (on the other side of Cape Town). Another lovely treat.

The next morning we were up bright and early to get a lift into Cape Town with Charles and to join him and his colleagues for breakfast. South Africa is in the midst of an energy crisis. Charles works for the Cape Town energy board which is having to load shed daily (cut off power to different areas). Charles has the unenviable role of communicating most of the changes and load shedding to the public. So Charles and his team are under a considerable amount of pressure at the moment but they never seem to let it get them down and it was certainly a fun breakfast.
We had hoped to visit Robben Island the same day but they were booked up for nearly a week, so we went to the cinema instead. “No Country for Old Men” is a very well acted film but as the first film we have been to see since “James Bond” early last year I think that maybe we could have chosen a more gentle film.

Back at the ranch we continued with our ongoing pursuit of affordable shipping and a freighter ship for us to travel on as well as other interesting admin which we can complete having electricity available to us (when they are not load shedding) to power our computer as the battery is now dead.

Another day we took a stroll up to Table Mountain. We had deferred the expedition a couple of times after looking out the kitchen window which affords a wonderful view across the city to the mountain which is often covered with cloud. We chose a steep route, but then they all are, which started in the gloriously sunny Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens and proceeded up the aptly named Skeleton Gorge. Once we were on the top we could have been anywhere, the Table Cloth (cloud) had descended. There was no one else around and there was a wonderfully eerie atmosphere. But, boy was it fresh. The wind was coming straight off the Antarctic and felt as if it had icicles in it. Standing right on the edge the cloud periodically lifted affording a fleetingly tantalising glimpse of the city and Table Bay a kilometre below. We knew that the cable car was not running, due to high winds, and so made a steep descent down Platteklip gorge. Aagh, going downhill can be so much more difficult than going up hill. However, before long we were below the cloud and the views were stunning. At the bottom we refreshed ourselves with a beer. I was stiff for a couple of days afterwards; going downstairs was not the easiest task.

One evening we joined Val and Charles on their Missionary work in one of the many squatter camps in Cape Town. It is amazing how some of the people they have been working with have made such changes to their lives and have created well functioning communities, despite still living in poverty. There are many services for the residents. Most of the children go to school and receive childhood vaccinations. One lady, a resident, manages to feed most of the 350 children in the camp daily from a donated old container. I don’t think she even knows where the food comes from most of the time. On the camp perimeter the local authorities have provided facilities such as composting toilets, installed floodlights and standpipes with drinking water and collect rubbish but are powerless to provide anything more without permission from the landowner, which has been refused.

Another day Gavin and I visited the City Mission’s Rehabilitation Centre and Sheltered accommodation units that Val spent so many years planning and finally oversaw the construction of. When I was last here they had not started digging the foundations yet. It really is an impressive centre providing for stroke rehabilitation and dementia respite and day care.

Finally Friday came around and we hung around most of the day waiting for the workshop to ring to tell us that the work was all done. True to form they rang in the afternoon, but were sorry to say that while they were test driving it something to do with the rear drive had broken and the rear wheels would not drive. Gavin knew that they were pretty worn out and had planned to install new ones the following day after we had the car back so we could buy the spare parts. What it really meant was that even after having loads of work done we would still not notice a difference until this new problem was sorted. We could still drive the car with the diff lock on. By the end of the following day Gavin had it all sorted and what a difference we noticed- we could actually talk to each other whilst driving along, rather than shouting.

We eventually made the trip to Robben Island on a beautifully calm day. The views from the island looking back to Cape Town were lovely and we saw a lot of wildlife including a colony of penguins. We were guided through the prison which housed political prisoners including Nelson Mandela until the 1990’s, by a former prisoner. His stories made the place come alive and the overwhelming sense of looking forward rather than harbouring resentment was inspirational.

Sadly it is time to wave goodbye to Charles’ and Val’s household. We initially came for dinner and have ended up staying for over a week. We still have some decisions about shipping and transport to make which we will deliberate over as we catch up with the Bowleys and the Rowleys.

Namaqua(land) in the Bartlett Defender Anyone?

2008-03-19T01:07:00.017Z

A big sorry to Gavin and Catkin for the delay in becoming the guest blogger and adding my comments to the site. Obviously I have become as unreliable as some of those Land Rover parts you are nursing along.... But better late than never and now 11 days since my return to NZ here is my update:
I arrived in Springbok, Namaqualand on a bus that travelled through the night like a bat out of hell. It was one of the most value for money trips I have ever taken on public transport - R205 for nearly 9 hours entertainment and stops at more petrol stations and Wimpy bars than I ever new existed in South Africa. I was looking forward to the trip back to Cape Town as there was not a lot visible once the sun had set on my ride north. Gavin and Catkin kindly picked me up at my ridiculous arrival time and we stood round talking waiting for an elusive lunar eclipse until 3am. Needless to say, the eclipse did not happen and the people who camped right next to the Land Rover deserved to be kept awake for passing on duff information! It was great to see them looking so well and so tanned.

The highlight of Springbok for me was the lime milkshake at the Springbok Restaurant and a visit to the supermarket. I always love looking in supermarkets and seeing how much I am being ripped off in the UK. For me the most amazing thing was that every item purchased had a special place in the Land Rover. I have never seen a more organised set up - and I can see why after a few weeks on the road why this was so important.

Our first bush camp was on the way to Hondeklipbaai amongst the shiny quartz littering the ground. I do wonder now, after spotting all those diamond mines and dredges on the coast whether I slept on a bed of diamonds and should have picked up a few rocks just in case! I loved the misty and spooky outlook on the coast, with ships wrecked on the beaches but could not ever imagine living in such a remote place in the tiny houses that they had there.

We camped in a beach reserve one night before heading to Cedarberg. It was a lovely wide beach but the wind was a bit cool and I was not really tempted into the sea. All the signs said that off road driving on the beaches and nearby land is prohibited to save the fauna and flora. We stopped and camped before the signs so we were not technically doing anything naughty but I did spend all night waking to the smallest sound thinking we were going to be kicked off the beach. We were buzzed by a very low flying microlite the next morning but I don't think that was the beach police!
On our way to Clanwilliam we walked up to visit some caves used for shelter by the Voortrekers in the 1800's which were interesting. Some of the names carved into the walls were on letter boxes in the surrounding districts. My favouite lunch spot was on the way to Clanwilliam as well when we put the awning up over some contrete table and chairs in a layby above a dam/lake and hid from the midday heat.
Catkin had a great cask of Namaqua red wine that improved with drinking and the cooler it was. It was so lovely to end the day sitting on the chairs looking at the view with a glass of red wine in hand. These guys even had wine glasses so it was very civilised. Unfortunately after a long sojourn at Cedarberg we had finished the wine (much to Gavins disgust) so when we departed for directions south we had to stop at a supermarket to get a new 5 litre replacement (which I am sure is well gone now as well). Amazing cooking skills shown in Cedarburg where we stocked up on wood from the eucalyptus trees and some kindly family left a bag of wood behind which I quickly snaffled for the fire that Catkin cooked us fresh bread on. Awesome. I am well impressed with the great meals I was served up. My contribution was to the dishes rather than the cooking as Catkin had it all sorted and on the plates in a flash.
We spent an interesting evening in a camp ground in Citrusdal (citrus not quite in season) where we met some bikers who were on their way north to Luderitz on the Namibian coast. They amazed me with the amount of luxury goods they carried including the massive blow up matresses and automatic pumps for them. I think they amazed Gavin with their homemade luggage carriers. Considering they were going to be on some rough roads we were not sure if they would make it intact. Anyway, they were lovely people and on the first day of a 2-3 weeks motorcycle jaunt and kindly gave us their left over beers the next day. Great thing the Land Rover has a luxury fridge! We had great BBQ'd corn and an awesome pumpkin and smoked chicken pasta (it took a while but it did happen) and plenty of that red wine.

Gavin and Catkin introduced me to the BBC World Service. It is a bit dodgy and they have some very strange programmes on it. The music theme tune to one programme in particular is the most memorable for me as well as the phone in show they have where Africans call in and have their say on whatever the topic of the day is. Apparently George W Bush is doing everything he is doing out of the goodness of his heart. What can you say. Interesting views.
Cape Columbine was a lovely place to visit and stay awhile. The sea was so blue and the beaches where they managed to have them amongst the rocks were so white. Water not warm and only Catkin braved it. I preferred to stay out of it in case I was eaten by a whale - however we passed through during the only two months of the year the whales are not there. Typical luck!
Once we had tickets for the rugby from Vredenburg we were heading south to make sure we did not miss it and stopped in Langebaan for a final night before hitting Cape Town. We played frisbee on the beach in the wind where it was great to stretch our legs and I think Catkin did a few laps of the beach the next morning for some exercise.
It was great to be back in sight of Table Mountain eventually and I really enjoyed eating my fish and chips across the bay from the city. It was quite funny when we were waiting for our fish and chips that a South African guy came up and told me he was from Paternoster near Cape Columbine and had seen my vehicle there a couple of days previous. I didn't try to explain that it was not my Land Rover, just accepted that it was my vehicle and waved as we drove off. Not many people really listened when I tried to explain that Gavin and Catkin had driven from London over the previous 8 odd months. I think they thought I was saying they had come from East London, RSA so were not all that impressed!

The hospitality of the South Africans at the rugby was amazing - not sure I would give up my beer and chops to random strangers who were camping on a school ground. We had a lovely time at the rugby and it was neat to say that we went to a Super 14 game - it will be a long time before I get to another one. I slept in the back of the Land Rover and covered myself up with the sleeping bag completely so that no one would see me in there and knock on the window. However it was pretty hot and I soon had to give up on that and ditch the sleeping bag and luckily no one was really interested in waking us up!
It was a trauma getting a picture free of the busloads of tourists at Cape of Good Hope as already mentioned by Gavin but very entertaining all the same. It is such a beautiful place and the views are stunning. It was quite an exciting time to be with Gavin and Catkin as they made it to the western most point in South Africa. We stayed at Sweet Water camp site which was full of Capetonians partying up over night. It was amazing to be camping near the massive Snakes Head Lighthouse and take a walk up the 145 steps the next day.
The drive along Chapmans Peak Road to the city was beautiful and I wished I could win the lottery and get a place there for a while and look out at the sea. Lucky for me Gavin and Catkin were willing to take me into the Waterfront area the day before I headed out to NZ so I could get a present for the brother and his to-be wife Rachel before leaving Cape Town. Stupidly I wanted to get some ceramics but they made it all the way to NZ unscathed so I am pretty happy!
Gavin and Catkin have had one amazing adventure and I was lucky to share in it for a few weeks. I think I invited myself along really so they were very kind to let me stay so long with them. I was pretty rubbish at the dishes but learned to put the tent up and down pretty well by the end! I was just getting the hang of putting everything in the right place and then I had to head off.
I am sure they will be having more adventures in Australia soon!!

The Fairest Cape in All The World

2008-03-07T09:32:00.008Z

Next stop for us after Stompneusbaai was Cape Columbine. An area of the park right on the shoreline has been set up for camping, and we found a great spot in amongst the rocks. The caretaker came to see us in the morning to collect the fees, and kept us entertained with his stories of his years working there. He was very enthusiastic about the park, and was quite reluctant to be retiring in just over two weeks. When we enquired about campsites between there and Cape Town he told us we should stay where we were, because there was nowhere as good as Cape Columbine. It was a pretty great spot.

By this time, though, we’d already bought tickets for the Super 14 game between the Stormers and the Crusaders, so we had to push on. It was Thursday, and the game was on Friday night.

The next day, even the final run into Cape Town was not without mechanical incident. What initially sounded like all the air escaping out of one tyre turned out to be a burst intercooler elbow hose. Metres of duct tape later and we were back to full power. We stopped at Bloubergstrand for lunch, and some photos of our first views of the magnificent Table Mountain.

By mid-afternoon we had officially arrived in Cape Town, eight months and four days after departing from London. No time to pause and reflect on our achievement though, it was only five hours to kick-off and we needed to find somewhere to camp and sort out how we were going to get to the game. Fortunately, all of those issues were resolved in one fell swoop. After finding Newlands Stadium, we were directed around the corner to where a few schools provide their playing fields for parking, for a small fee. Thanks largely to the generous hospitality of the South Africans, in no time at all it was all arranged that we could park in a quiet corner and could spend the night there after the game. All our prayers had been answered. Best of all, it gave us time to go and enjoy a few quite celebratory beers. I have to admit though, it felt really strange to be sitting in a bar on a Friday evening having a beer. Almost like a normal person. There was even entertainment when a bit of a donnybrook broke out between the drivers of two cars after one changed lanes into the other right across the road from where we were sitting. Fabulous stuff.

Back at the carpark we got talking to a bunch of locals who had been setting up their braai when we first arrived. They insisted that we join them for beers and food, and it would have been very rude to say no. They had already been tucking into the whiskey, so it was very entertaining. Newlands Stadium was packed, but there was just enough room for the three of us in a broom cupboard at the far end of the back row of the main grandstand. We had a great view of the first half. As usual, there was a loud mouth sitting right in front of us. He thought he was pretty funny; those of us around him weren’t so sure. Crusaders won 22-0.

The party in the carpark carried on for a couple of hours after the final whistle, but eventually everyone trickled away and we got some sleep.

On Saturday we wound our way around False Bay toward Cape Point, stopping briefly for a chat with the penguins at Boulders.

The Cape has been described by Sir Francis Drake as “the fairest cape in all the world” and it is an apt description. We jostled past busloads of Russian tourists up the hill to the old Cape Point lighthouse, then down the hill to the new lighthouse. The old lighthouse was built to high up the hill, and for 900 hours a year was unable to be seen through fog, when it was needed most. So the new one was built much lower down. We even spied Bellows Rock, which sunk the Lusitania.

From there we made our way to the “Holy Grail” for most overlanders aiming for Cape Town – The Cape of Good Hope. The most south-westerly point in Africa. We bided our time until we could get in between the groups of tourists for a photo. One group, part of the 14th World Congress of Anaesthesiologists, had their photo taken with their conference banner completely covering the sign – they might as well have been anywhere! It was hilarious watching people push in to get their photograph – some people have no manners. We had people posing in front of the Camel, as if they had just driven across Africa to get here. One guy even sat up on the bonnet.

We camped that night at another park campsite just up the coast at Sweet Water, under the watchful eye of the Slangkoppunt lighthouse with its four flashes every 30 seconds. The lighthouse is one of very few working lighthouses that the public is allowed to visit, so the next morning we did. The keeper gave us a very informative talk on the history of South African lighthouses, their role in the rescue of people off stricken ships and the operation of the Slangkoppunt (Snake Head Point) lighthouse. After that he unlocked the door and we were allowed up the tower, right up to the lens. The lighthouse is now electrified and motorised, but the old paraffin tanks, small hatches in each level for the wick, and the weight system for revolving the lens are still on show. The 400 watt bulb shines about 70 kilometres out to sea. It was a spectacular view.

After spending the last ten days travelling with us, Ianthe had now become an honorary “Camelrider” and had given up trying to explain to enquiring people that she had only recently joined us. She was even giving people permission when they asked to have their photo taken in front of “her” vehicle. Now, sadly, it was time for her to leave. We camped on the Sunday night in a campground not far from the airport, and dropped her off there the next morning for her flight out. It was really good to see her, and we probably saw a lot more of the Northern and Western Cape areas than we would have otherwise. It was quite strange to be back to just the two of us again.

Since then we have been living the luxurious life, staying with Charles and Val, who are friends of Catkin’s, and then out to see Catkin’s 2nd cousin Patsy in Paarl. We have focussed our efforts on planning the next leg of the journey, looking into shipping options and costs and the bureaucracy of importing a vehicle into both Australia and New Zealand. We are still considering having our gearboxes looked at, so have spoken to an expert about that as well. The decision on exactly where we will head to from South Africa is yet to be made.

Ianthe has agreed to be a guest author on the blog, so hopefully sometime soon we will all get her take her time with us.

Waterfalls and cold seas

2008-02-27T13:19:00.010Z

We picked Ianthe up from the bus at 01.45 am (and very prompt it was) and then stayed up until well after 3am after we had been told that there was to be a full lunar eclipse, but nothing happened. It was a lovely night with a full moon though.

After stocking up on supplies in Springbok the following morning and a visit to the Springbok Lodge and Restaurant (which Nico had compelled us to visit before we left) we headed over the Messelpad Pass towards the coast. We passed a prison a long time derelict, on the way. Apparently Italian prisoners (POW’s I think) had been shipped to the coast and then had to march inland to this prison to build the pass. Pretty hard and hot work.

The next day we passed through Hondeklipbaai. It was really quite cold in the sea mist, such a change from a few kilometres inland, as we explored the twisted and rusted wreck of the Aristea. The coastline is still very desolate but not nearly as inhospitable as the Namibian coast.

It seems that the main industry in the area is diamond mining. There are many private mines all around the area and we think that these boats are the sea floor hoovering boats (not really their technical term). I did not really expect them to be so small.

We carried on zigzagging down the Western Cape as we drove inland to the Cedarberg area. After the arid Northern Cape it was so refreshing. We found a lovely campsite frequented by families from Cape Town. It was very busy on the day we arrived (Saturday) with lots of families, but there was a lot of space for us all and we had a lovely grassy spot in the shade. The campsite had a dammed off swimming hole in the creek, the water was wonderful.

The flora must have been wonderful earlier in the year. There were protea bushes everywhere and such a variety of fynbos. Sadly, most of the cedar forest has been destroyed by fires and there is not much evidence that it is regenerating in any hurry.

The next day we took a beautiful walk up to a waterfall. On reaching our destination we just sat for ages, eating Sparkles (a treat from Ianthe) and chilling out by the rushing water. By the time we descended back down to the campsite it was almost empty- most of the families had gone home.

We are now back on the coast at Stompneusbaai watching the shags and seagulls. Yesterday I found a pool in the low tide just stashed full of shoals of really small fish. It was fascinating watching them move around and change direction en-masse with the odd fish jumping. There were a couple of seagulls around but I almost expected to see a cat on rock sticking its paw in the water, just like a gold fish bowl. When I went back this morning to take a photo, they were all gone. So I took a really cold, and short, swim in the sea instead.

2008-02-26T07:12:00.002Z

Jazzy B 1 today. Daddy will buy you a nice big present, but you'll probably find the box more interesting. Love from Super Auntie and 'Special' Uncle

2008-02-24T02:55:00.001Z

Happy Birthday Dad. Hope you have a day off and a beer or two. We're in the Cederberg Wilderness Area, zigzagging South.

Blue Danube? Steinfeld!

2008-02-20T13:16:00.006Z

Catkin forgot to mention the dressing down she gave an unsuspecting local while we waited for the river to recede on our way into Sossusvlei.

One of the first things we had noticed when we arrived at the entrance gate was the set of recycling bins which had been installed by Raleigh International a few years earlier. We had seen a lot of broken glass on our travels, so thought this was an excellent idea.

Anyone who knows Catkin well knows that one of her pet hates is litter, and she never misses an opportunity to try an educate anyone she sees committing the dreadful act. Well, this guy had driven up in his ute to join his mate from Namibian Wildlife Resorts (who run the show) and have a look at the river. After he had finished the bottle of beer he was drinking he casually lobbed it into the water without a second thought. I don’t think he will do it again in a hurry. His only attempt at an excuse was “There was nowhere to put it…” He looked very sheepish.

As Catkin said in the last entry, Sossusvlei was spectacular, made even more so by having the whole place to ourselves.

After Luderitz we visited the Garub feral horse view point, where we spent the evening watching groups of horses come to drink. You'll have to look pretty hard to see any in the photo though.

Further east the next day we called in to Keetmanshoop to fill up with diesel and stock up on groceries. When we had been in Walvis Bay a couple of weeks earlier, an English gent had come up to talk to us about Land Rovers. He has a Land Rover garage in Sussex, although he now lives in Namibia. He gave us the name and details of the mechanic based near Keetmanshoop that he uses, highly recommending his services. Seeing as we were passing through, we thought we would try and find him. Shortly we were heading down a rough road until about 60km out of town we found what we were looking for – “Steinfeld - Johan Strauss.” We still weren’t sure that this was the right place, although the immaculately presented Land Rover parked under the tree outside the house gave us a glimmer of hope. Around the back of the house, however, it was Land Rovers everywhere, Quite a few in parts, some completely written off and many mid-restoration. He has to be the most knowledgeable Land Rover man we have ever met. We spent ages talking to him and his wife Ina about our trip and the repairs we have made. He gave us lots of advice, and was able to demonstrate on old parts what to watch out for. We considered getting him to recondition our noisy gearbox, but these things don’t come cheap so we are still hoping it will get us to New Zealand as it is. We camped on their farm that night, and after taking up even more of his time the next morning finally bade them farewell. He even managed to find in his stores the fuel line we had been unable to track down in all of Windhoek. Catkin felt justified in her claim that we have had exceptional bad luck when he admitted that he had never seen a transfer lever become disconnected as had happened to us in Kenya. Overall, our Steinfeld experience was inspirational and well worth the detour to get there. Catkin thinks the two of them should be declared Namibian National Treasures.

We had intended to go into Fish River Canyon, but when we arrived at the gate we found out that the entry fees were twice what we had expected. We were down to our last few Namibian dollars, so decided to give it a miss in this instance. Maybe next time.

From there it was only a short journey to the Orange River which forms the border with South Africa. We met a motorcyclist from Manchester on a Triumph at the border. He had left the UK in October, and it sounded like he had spent ages pushing his bike through the mud. He seemed well and truly over it and was looking forward to getting to Cape Town and then back home.

On our arrival in Springbok the other day, we were driving around trying to sort out a few things we needed to change the oil in the transfer box. We were shown true South African hospitality when Nico from Springbok Motor Rewinders let me park up in front of his workshop to do the oil change, got one of his workers to bring me a sheet of cardboard to lie on and some rags, and even took care of the waste oil. It was incredible and we were very grateful.

Now we’re awaiting the arrival of our friend Ianthe who is coming up on the bus from Cape Town to join us for a week or so. She will be our first visitor, so we have been practising our manners. No more burping after dinner, Catkin. Hopefully she doesn’t think we have turned a bit weird having just our own company for the last eight months.

Today is our 241st day on the road since leaving London on the 25th of June last year. We have covered about 40,000km so far, yet we are only just over 9000km from London as the crow flies. The distance (as the crow flies) to Queenstown, New Zealand is about 11,200km, although that is via Antarctica, and I don’t imagine many crows fly that far south. Not too many Land Rovers make it to the South Pole either, but don’t think we haven’t considered it. As Catkin mentioned, we are now out of the Tropics, and we seem to have made it safely through without contracting Malaria. We have changed the engine oil five times and I’ve had six haircuts, courtesy of Catkin. And we still haven’t made it to Cape Town yet!

Not many photos lately, so I’ve included this one from Jordan.

We finally got our flash floods

2008-02-13T12:49:00.010Z

But more of that later.

We left Windhoek on a very rainy day and decided to head towards Sossusvlei, Namibia’s number one tourist destination. The route took us through yet more stunning scenery. We made a lovely bush camp that evening after a bit of track bashing to find a sheltered spot. The next morning we passed this herd of Oryx (Gemsbok) as we headed back to the road.

In Solitaire we treated ourselves to their famous apple crumble (having read about it in an article about Mike Copeland’s trans-Africa trip). It was really good to enjoy someone else’s cooking. From the entrance to Sossusvlei we could see that there had been a lot of rain in the mountains and there was much talk of a couple of roads being washed out. We took a look at the Sesriem Canyon. This is normally dry and it is possible to walk along the bottom of the canyon, not today though.

We had heard it is best to view Sossusvlei in early morning sun. Considering that the camping fees were £40 (UK) for the night (just a little out of our budget).We decided to camp down the road a bit so that we could make an early start in the morning, it was still a 65km drive in the park to Sossusvlei. We ended up camping on a bit of high ground near to where the road was flooding. We whiled away the time watching drivers decide whether or not to negotiate the crossing. We did not want to go through the flooded road in case the water increased overnight and we could not get back again as it was still raining in the mountains. That was a good decision. The waters rose considerably overnight and at some point during the night we had been completely surrounded by water. At this point, though, we did not know that the same ephemeral river makes it way to Sossusvlei.

Shortly before 6am we packed up the tent and waited for the gate to open at 6.30. Apparently the internal gate opens at 5.30, but plebs like us are not allowed in until an hour later. We bought our permits and we were on our way as the sun rose. But we did not get very far. After 25km we could go no further. Quite a few cars and tourist vehicles had collected watching the torrent of water blocking our way. I took a wade through the first half of it which was fine but the second half- NO WAY. We retired to a hill for breakfast and to wait it out.

While I climbed the nearest sand dune and Gavin did computer stuff and kept an eye on the water level from afar. The water level was dropping and by 10.30 we moved back down to have a closer look. However there was still rapids in the river.

Many people came and went and we did feel that everybody was waiting for us to make the first move. Even at one o’clock the water was still too fast. Eventually at 2 o’clock, when no one was watching, Gavin made his way on foot to the other side. The water level had reduced by nearly a metre since when I first had a look. We decided that if he could walk it then the car could definitely make it, and the old girl performed very well. Not too much water came in the rear passenger doors and we were the first through and no one else knew, so we had the whole park to ourselves. Fantastic.

After another 30km the sand became quite soft, so for the first time we decided to let some air out of the tyres and it really made a difference, especially with the extra weight we carry around. We enjoyed a wonderful few hours exploring the Sossusvlei pan (a clay pan surrounded by huge dunes) and Dedvlei.

When we returned to the car the underside was being besieged by about 20 small finch like birds trying to get to the water trapped in the nooks and crannies. In the evening there were quite a few jackals around but they did not bother us. I think that they help to keep the place clean. Only two more vehicles entered after us

We ended up spending the night there which we think may not be permitted, but there was nothing to say that it was prohibited and we did arrive quite late (bear in mind that we were sold permits when it was already known to park staff that the road was impassable).

In the morning we were up on the dunes before sunrise where it was beautifully still, waiting for the tranquillity to be broken. But no one arrived for another hour and a half. We cannot help but wonder how many experience having Sossusvlei to themselves. We did observe some water covering part of the valley in the distance but we had not brought our binoculars up with us, otherwise we may have noticed that it was moving- it was the water left over from yesterdays flooding making its way to Sossusvlei.

After more people started to arrive we made our way out, only to be met by the water as it made its way to Sossusvlei. It was very surreal to see the water headed straight towards us. We reached higher ground where we had breakfast and re-inflated the tyres. By the time we were ready to leave we heard that the water had reached the pan which was slowly filling up.

We are now in Luderitz, a Bavarian diamond mining and sardine fishing town, on the coast. It is a long, long way from anywhere here and is really rather bizarre. It is on the edge of the desert and there is no vegetation, just sand and rock. We overlook the town and it is reminiscent of a whaling outpost in Alaska (not that I have ever been to one). It is not what one would expect just south of the Tropic of Leprechaun, oops I mean Capricorn. We have not camped near a town for a very long time and it was lovely yesterday evening, just watching everything light up.

From here we will make for Fish River Canyon and then South Africa.

Essential repairs

2008-02-07T22:03:00.000Z

We’ve now been in Namibia for three weeks, which is the longest we have spent in a single country since we left Egypt. It is a vast country with lots of open space and a population of only two million, and been one of the best for camping out in the wild. Some of the places we have found to camp have been absolutely magical.

We ended up spending four nights camped out in the sand dunes near Swakopmund. On the first night there we decided to walk up the dunes to watch the sunset. Walking up sand dunes isn’t easy at the best of times, but after seven months of sitting in a car with very little physical exercise it nearly killed me. My little heart felt like it was try to jump out of my chest, but it was worth it for the view. Pretty good fun coming down too.

Most of the days there were spent making repairs to various bits and pieces of the Land Rover. Each day there was a new job to attend to, but finally after a couple of days everything seemed okay for us to be able to get to Windhoek, where we knew we would be able to buy parts for the larger repair jobs we had been putting off.

On what we though would be our last afternoon there, we went into Swakopmund to get fuel and water, and to post Catkin’s blog entry which she had been busy writing while I worked on the vehicle. However, on our way back to the dunes, the occasional squeak that we had heard over the last couple of days suddenly became a loud grating noise, which after a bit of investigation we determined to be our front left wheel bearings. This was quite exciting for us, because we actually had wheel bearings and associated consumables in our very carefully considered supply of spare parts. Up until now, aside from fuel and oil filters, we had only used one universal joint of the parts we had carried all the way from England. Everything else that had broken we had either had to mend or buy en route. We slowly made our way back to the campsite, and a good part of the next morning was spent dismantling the front left hub and replacing those bearings.

After that, we decided to go into Swakopmund for a swim in the sea, then stay another night and leave early the next morning.

It was a long drive through to Windhoek, but on the way we detoured past Spitzkoppe, a massive rock outcrop.

We have now spent three days in Windhoek, and again most of the time has been taken up with repairs. We have been camping in the carpark of the Puccini Guest House very close to the centre of town, and I have been able to carry out all the work there. The guest house owner pointed us in the direction of an excellent Land Rover parts dealer who has had almost everything we have needed, including a new fuel tank and set of front coil springs. While I have been busy trying to remove old parts and replace them with new, Catkin has been traipsing around to the parts stores to get all the extra bits and pieces we need as more things break or need fixing. Now the fuel tank is in, the anti-roll bar that we took off in Botswana is back on, and the front of the vehicle is level and restored to its full height with the new springs, which just happen to be very close in colour to Rover Sandglo, the official colour of Camel Trophy Land Rovers. We even have new rubber mountings for our air cleaner housing, replacing the broken ones that we first repaired in Slovakia all those months ago. No more wire holding it all together.

So, not much in the way of sightseeing lately, and no exciting news to report, but it has been a busy week nonetheless. All our washing is done and our water tank is full so tomorrow we head out of town, into the desert again. Not fully sure exactly where we will head for yet, but we will be sure to let you know.

Sand dunes and leaks

2008-02-01T13:37:00.000Z

We said goodbye to Amai in Oshikato and headed out on our own again. We had intended to buy fuel at a town close to the Angolan border. However some of these towns turned out to be more of a dot on the map and when we blinked we must have missed it. We just hoped we had enough diesel to last us to Opuwo. The one item that these towns sell in abundance is beer and there is a proliferation of bottle stores in the North West of Namibia. Often they are helpfully are combined with a builders merchant or motor spares shop.

The mopane and savanna gradually gave way to flooded sand plains and palm trees with a light dusting of new grass. Many animals were grazing in the flooded area. Most were either skinny, pregnant or tending their young, evidently just holding out for the rain. In Etosha we saw a Springbok doe licking her newborn clean. The foal was already on its feet trying to jump around.

Having journeyed north from Botswana we were again very close to having the sun overhead. The last time it was overhead we getting stuck in the mud.

The route to Epupa Falls took us along the Kunene River which forms the border with Angola. This is one of the few permanent rivers in Namibia and the road was a bit like a rollercoaster as we drove up and down all the dry river beds running into it. I had been scanning the skies in the distance hoping for rain clouds which might herald a flash flood, there was plenty of higher ground to escape to. However, despite all the rain we have seen my hopes were in vain. The rain has brought the area to life though. Many charred and sunburnt plants were giving way to blooms and trees were just bursting with leaves. Even out of bone dry sand, flowers were emerging. Each day brought more greenery and blooms.

As usual the actual distance bore little resemblance to those quoted on our maps and on road signs, with our ever dwindling diesel supply we eventually arrived at the Epupa Falls. This was a delightful area where from the surface it all just looks like a few rapids but when you walk over the rocks right to the edge all the water gushes down a 37 metre deep gash in the rock with Baobab tress clinging to the sides of the ravine.

This area is home of the Himba. The Himba women paint themselves (skin and hair) in red earth even their garments are red. They are bare breasted and wear leather skirts. The men seem to wear jeans and a shirt. There are many signs inviting one to visit their villages where one is expected to pay to take photographs, I have heard as much as 50N$ per photo is demanded. At the Falls we met a group pf Estonians who had visited a village and really enjoyed the experience until they were virtually mobbed by vendors of trinkets and souvenirs which they ended up buying many items because they felt both guilty and pressurised. I do appreciate that these cultures are very fragile and need support but we did not feel comfortable with this kind of support. Especially considering the number of beer bottle dumps co-located with the towns.

On the road to Opuwo we did find a fuel vendor so we bought 5litres from their drum after carefully inspecting it for impurities and water, just in case. We need not have been so worried. We made it all the way to Opuwo, past the first two fuel stations, through a stop sign, without quite stopping, and onto the forecourt of the BP station. Where, if Jan Toots and his truck had not been in the way we would have rolled to the diesel pump. Much to the amazement of Jan we had travelled 2030 kilometres on one tanking (including jerry cans) and had to use our emergency 5litres to make the final ten metres to the pump.

In Opuwo we were similarly mobbed by Himba who wanted to sell to us. When I politely declined, all the souvenirs are made of wood and seeds anyway which we would not be permitted to take into either Australia or New Zealand, I was accused of refusing to support their community.

Driving south to Sesfontein we drove down the steepest of roads. From the top I could barely see the bottom a few hundred metres down. It was a very slow descent for us. We saw no other vehicles on the whole stretch of road and I wondered how the trucks managed.

At Sesfontein we stayed at a local community run campsite on the hillside and attended to “personal administration”. The next morning, as I emerged from the tent, I could just make out a figure on the bend of the road one kilometre or so away, watching the campsite. As I was preparing breakfast the lad suddenly appeared with his bundle which he dropped near to the car. I greeted him and after a while he retired to the shade to watch us. As we were preparing to leave two women from the village turned up to re-connect the water supply (which the village and campsite share). The boy picked up his bundle and bolted, we never saw him again.

Hoping to spot desert dwelling elephants we took a drive down the ephemeral Hoanib river bed. We drew a blank on the elephants but Gavin did manage to complete “fiendish” sudoku puzzle he had been trying to figure out for ages. Carrying on the road south we saw these special elephants, giraffes and of course springbok.

The next morning after a windy and wet night we came across a car with four passengers and wheels all over the show. Late last night they sustained their second puncture and with no means to repair it were a bit stuck. We were the first car to pass by so we picked up another hitchhiker for a short while.

That night we made a lovely bush camp in the setting sun reflecting off Brandberg, Namibias highest mountain, nestled into some rocks for shelter from the wind. In the morning everything was shrouded in mist.

That day, whilst stopping to look at Welwitchias, which may not be traditionally beautiful they do live for 2000 years, we noticed a new leak of diesel from the main fuel tank.

Closer inspection, which involved removing the step and tank guard, which resulted in more bolts shearing off, revealed a pretty knackered fuel tank that is not really repairable. Let’s hope that our third and final fuel tank does not develop any holes now. Our jerry cans, thanks Pete, have come in really useful for siphoning fuel out of the tanks as well as increasing our range.

After a not so happy day we took refuge that night at the lovely Save the Rhino Trust Base Camp on the Ugab river. Although water was a bit scarce we did have hot showers out of a bucket. In the morning a ranger showed us the tracks of lion which had walked 50metres from our car during the night. Also, for the first time in Africa, there was loads of information about the area, the Rhinos and other fauna and flora.

From there it was all downhill to the sea. It was quite strange how the desert melts into the ocean. The very long, straight and flat shoreline is flanked by a hard salt road (not sure what happens when it rains, which is pretty seldom) and big fish fishing must be the main pursuit. Just about both of the other cars on the road had very long fishing rods attached to the front bumper like a big radio aerial.

Yesterday morning, I noticed a new fluid leaking from the bottom of the car. Oh no, it looked like brake fluid. But no the brake fluid levels were fine. It was clear salty fluid and as the sun rose higher it all dried off. It was there again this morning. All we can think is that despite spending ages washing and sluicing Etosha lime out of every nook and cranny, much of the salts still remain and is attracting moisture overnight. We think it is only happening now because there is much more moisture on the coast. Does anyone else have an explanation?

After finding tools, screws and more lovely shops to buy food from in Walvis Bay we are now camped in the sand dunes close to Swakopmund where Gavin has carried out yet more repairs to the car.

Maori Camp?

2008-01-23T11:40:00.001Z

From Maun we headed north-west to the Tsodilo Hills. These hills stick out of the vast flat expanse of the Kalahari and, due to the presence of ancient rock paintings, are a UNESCO World Heritage site.

There is a small museum where you can arrange guided walks around the area to see the paintings. We had a bit of a walk around in the afternoon and saw a few paintings, but decided to go on a guided walk the following morning. Just as well we did, because we saw so much more than we otherwise would have. The guide was one of the local bushmen (bearing a striking resemblance to the star of ‘The Gods Must be Crazy’), and told us all sorts of stories about the paintings and his ancestors’ way of life. It was well worth it. Also, this was the first place we had been in Africa where they didn’t try to fleece you at every opportunity. There was no charge to enter the site or the museum, there was no pressure to take a guided walk and the fee was reasonable, and they provided campsites with toilets and hot showers for free. We liked it so much we stayed for two nights.

After the hills it was off to Namibia. After going through Botswanan Customs and Immigration, we fronted at the Namibian office only to be told that we needed N$160 for a vehicle cross border permit. US dollars were no good, and for the first time there were no touts changing money at the border posts. Unfortunately we didn’t have the cash, so had to go back into Botswana to the bank at the last town and get more money out. This was a few days after our game of search the ATM in Maun, and now started a game of search the debit card… Not to be found anywhere, possibly still sticking out of the machine in Maun. In addition, HSBC have been extremely diligent in their attempts to stop credit card fraud, and having noticed a few withdrawals from places they have never heard of, placed a stop on my card. This is despite us having informed them in advance and numerous times that we would be travelling through Africa and would be using our cards. In the end, we had to dig deep into our dwindling supply of US dollars. We are still not sure if this has been sorted out.

We entered Namibia at the western end of the Caprivi Strip, a very lush area as it has water all year round. In Rundu we met a group of four big hairy Norwegians in a Land Cruiser, applying for visas for Angola. They had bought their vehicle off another Norwegian in Cape Town and were driving it home. Up the west coast of Africa. And they want to be back in Norway by 1 April. This year. Good Luck. Good looking car though.

Namibian Roads are very good, but very straight. From Rundu we headed to Grootfontein, were we planned to stop for a couple of days and attempt to repair the brake vacuum pump, which was leaking more oil again after an earlier attempt at a temporary solution in Maun. Just before town we saw a sign for ‘Maori Camp’, so thought we would have to stay there. The owner was a bit mad, and spoke in a mixture of German and Afrikaans, with a small amount of English thrown in. Neither of us could really understand him at all, so although we asked, are none the wiser as to why it is called Maori Camp. He muttered something about Maori being an ‘Australian bushman’ so we tried to set him straight on this important point. The repair job, so far, has worked. If anyone is interested in boring detail, like I am, I have updated our Camel Riders Preparation page with more on our running repairs. See the link to the right.

The day we left Maori Camp it was raining heavily. Namibia is meant to be arid!

Nearby Grootfontein is the site of the Hoba meteorite, the largest known meteorite in the world. They reckon it weighs about 50 tonne, and landed about 80,000 years ago.

Later that day we made it to Etosha National Park, allegedly stacked with game surrounding the watering holes. Luckily, we had a tip from our friend Bren to head to the campsite at the far end of the park. The watering holes at the campsites are set up like theatres, with fenced off seating for the spectators to watch the procession of animals as they take turns to come and drink. Unfortunately for us, the first rain in a year had arrived just four days before we did, and after it has rained the animals don’t bother with the watering hole anymore. We did see loads though on our drive there and back, which we would have missed if we had gone to either of the closer campsites.

We met a Mongolian backpacker Amai at the campsite who asked if we could give him a lift out of the park. You should have seen his face when Catkin greeted him in Mongolian. We had a great day talking about Mongolia.

Now we are heading further north in search of the Epupa Falls.

2008-01-21T03:12:00.000Z

Happy birthday Ma Bowley. Hope the day is bright and sunny. Raining here in Namibia. All going well with us. Next post coming soon... Love G&C

A river runs through it

2008-01-14T11:20:00.000Z

Victoria Falls certainly did not fail to impress. We had a wonderful day viewing the Falls from as many different angles as possible. Firstly from the top where everything is almost serene, then round to the Eastern Cataract where the Falls start and the noise is tremendous. Further round there is a circular walk and I think that by the time we had been round twice Gavin was getting a bit bored and we were soaked. Water was coming at us from all directions and we could not tell if it was raining or not. It was hilarious watching the other people dressed in all sorts of waterproof gear, or not, sometimes it is just best to succumb to the inevitable.

We then took a walk down to the “boiling pot”, a surging bend in the river soon after the Falls. This took us through a microclimate special to Victoria Falls and the path did turn into a river halfway down. However at the bottom we had a great view of people bungee jumping off the bridge to Zimbabwe. Gavin and I congratulated each other that we were both veterans of this sport for quite a few years now, so there is no need to have another go!. We also saw a large kingfisher which looked like a kookaburra and some sort of hyrax, neither of which I could find in my book to properly identify- must be very rare I am sure. After obtaining passes from immigration we headed out onto the bridge to Zimbabwe for yet another new view of the Falls. Back at the car I entertained a group of Germans by chasing away aggressive baboons with a big stick, we had to eat lunch in the car with the windows up.

We have since heard of the floods in Mozambique. Considering that the area around Victoria Falls has had rain for most of the day everyday for 24 days before we arrived it is hardly surprising. Interestingly the Zambezi was not actually unusually high at the Falls.

The next day we headed across the border to Botswana. At some check point along the way someone in a uniform tried to charge us “Council Tax” for entering the area, which we would be in for about an hour! Naturally we did not pay it. At the border we again seemed to make things difficult for ourselves. We knew there was a ferry across the Zambezi so we had taken some cash out to cover this. However, it seems that the Zambian government did not really like its own currency and insists that all foreign vehicles must pay in either US dollars or South African Rand. We did not really want to change the money we had just changed from Sterling in to Zambian Kwacha into US Dollars at a rather less than favourable exchange rate with the local black market dudes. So we scrabbled around and found the required number of dollars in an oddment of notes. Now it really gets ridiculous. They would not accept the single dollar notes so we in fact ended up paying less than standard fare in dollars when we were willing to pay the correct fare in local currency. You win some sometimes I guess.

The Botswana border is quite interesting, from the ferry one can see Namibia, Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe whilst being closely watched by crocodiles and hippos. There were no banks or Forex offices on the Zambian side of the border so we hoped that there would be on the Botswana side, we prefer these to dodgy black market dudes. Anyway there was nothing on the other side either side of the Zambezi and rather than risk getting caught out and not being able to use our Zambian Kwacha, back on the ferry I went to Zambia to strike a deal with a dodgy dude. It is odd that so many of the countries we have travelled through will not exchange the currency of their neighbouring countries.

It was immediately evident that Botswana is a much more affluent African country. There are many more private vehicles. They may all be rather old and knackered but they are still private and the people drive them much more conservatively- not like the NGO employees hooning around in shiny white Toyota Land Cruisers. The roads are generally maintained and there is lots of MEAT in the supermarkets and butchers. Here “Fresh Produce” means meat rather than fruit and veg. So now Gavin is happy, but for me the fruit and veg is not nearly as good as in other countries- you win some you lose some. In Kasane we stocked up on fuel, engine oil, groceries- all cheaper in Botswana, and made enquiries about the route we hoped was possible through Chobe National Park to Maun. We were told it was a bit wet and we only had to pay park entry fees at one point. So off we went.

After the tar seal ended, we carried on a very good dirt track, the only bad areas where at an animal crossing and elephant herds had really mashed up the road. We found a good spot to camp and made a lovely bush camp with a big fire to keep the animals away. There were prints of all sorts of animals around but I could not identify any lion paw prints.

The next day we entered the Chobe National Park and the road began to deteriorate. The main problem was the water, however it was very sandy and despite the massive deluge of rain during the night it had already started to drain away and the base of the puddles/ ponds/ rivers were firm. A vehicle coming in the other direction also informed us the road through to Maun was passable. Close to Savuti camp we came to a watering hole where which looked like a Richard Scary painting. There were animals everywhere, kudu, gazelle, elephants, jackals, pied stilts, wildebeest, all sorts. It was wonderful. That evening elephants came wondering right through the campsite, very close to the car- luckily I did not have any mangoes in the car- otherwise we would have been eating them as quickly as we could.

It rained very heavily again overnight and the next morning we set off in convoy with a Dutch couple, in a rental vehicle, and a South African couple in their Toyota. The road was considerably worse than the previous day with the good firm sand gradually giving way to mud. At the Park exit gate the Ranger informed us that the road to Maun was in fact barely passable. The road got even worse, then there was a river crossing which was not possible in the rainy season and the detour was not easy find, very boggy and likely that we would get stuck any way. Also there are dangerous wild animals. The advice was that we should take the road through Moremi Park, and pay another set of Park fees. We had been wiped out of all our Pula entering Chobe and although there were offers to lend us the money from the others we decided to push on along the road on our own. After all, we have arms and could dig.

We said goodbye to our new friends and found a good spot to have some lunch, stick some chewing gum in the fuel tank hole we had noticed a few other car checks and play swap the tyres again. Gavin took over driving while I again became the “pathfinder”. Which meant I got to wade through all the ponds and puddles. We made very slow progress and after a few hours came to where we thought the detour turnoff could be. We were heading in the right direction and the road had even improved as we circumnavigated a large area of wetlands. It was a beautiful spot and it would have been lovely to spend an hour or so birdwatching, but we had more pressing matters. Soon we came to a big lot of wet, wet, wet road. We jumped out and spent some time surveying the area. There was plenty of evidence of where other people had got stuck. First was the big hole with mud and sand banked up. The hole was twice the size of the car- it must have taken those guys a long time to dig themselves out. Then there were braches and sticks everywhere where people had tried to make the whole road for 50 metres or so driveable. Our problem was in getting around this big hole. To the right it seemed a bit firmer and was our only real option. Unfortunately it was not firm enough. We got STUCK and stuck fast.

There were no trees to winch ourselves off. So down came the sand ladders, shovels and out came the high-lift jack. The mud was particularly tiresome because it was sandy mud, so when we shovelled it out of the way it just got back in the way again.

We were making progress when three local lads who had been fishing turned up. They insisted on helping us and eventually Gavin drove the car free to firm ground. Then we all jumped in the car and the boys said they would show us the way to the village. It became a bit like the blind leading the blind and after they got us lost and we found ourselves again using the GPS we eventually popped out at the village and said goodbye to our helpers with their fresh catch. From there onwards the road was good. Ironically in the space of a couple of kilometres we experienced both the best and the worst dirt roads for the whole trip so far.

The next day we trundled in to Maun and bumped into our friends at the fuel station- we had beaten them! Although we were considerably dirtier, and had a few more car noises to torment Gavin. I have to say that my chewing gum repair (the first repair to the car I have been permitted to do) responded to the challenge very well.

We found a good campsite with the best hot showers and plenty of clean water for laundry and took a few days rest.

Now having spent a few hours playing search the ATM which will let us have some cash we are on our way to the Tsodilo Hills and from then on to the Namibian border.

The lion sleeps tonight

2008-01-06T16:18:00.000Z

Firstly, Happy New Year. We had a good but very wet New Year’s Eve, but more about that later.

Lilongwe was our opportunity to stock up on fuel and groceries in preparation for our assault on the border and invasion of Zambia. We stayed at another very comfortable campsite, well set up for overlanders like ourselves. In fact Peter and Sabina, the Austrian couple in the truck that we met at Chinteche Inn, were still there despite the fact that they had been heading to Mozambique when we last saw them. When we left they were still there…

So from there to the border. We had some confusion when, after thinking that we had completed Zambian customs and immigration, some guy with a nice umbrella refused to let us through the gate out of the compound. It turned out that the customs official I had dealt with had forgotten to charge us the (recently imposed) 150,000 Kwacha carbon tax, so once that was taken care of we were free to go. It turned out that the man with the umbrella was their security guard, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him. In a moment of brilliance, the officials suggested that they might try to get him to wear his proper uniform in future so that he would be more easily identified. Good idea.

It was New Year’s Eve, and we were aiming to make it to Flatdogs Camp, near the entrance to the South Luangwa National Park (thanks to Riggsy and Bainsy for the top tip), and just on sun set we finally made it, finding a nice spot under the trees.

The park is renowned as a great place for game spotting, including hippos, giraffes, zebras, elephants, baboons, lots of different antelopes, lions and leopards, and many species of birds. Sure enough, even on the track into the campsite we had to stop and wait for some elephants to move past, and they were roaming around the campsite while we were there as well. In fact, the security guards insist on escorting you if walk around at night just in case you happen to interrupt a hungry hippo having a midnight snack.

Flatdogs had the local New Year’s Eve party, and we were invited. We got to meet a few of the locals working in the tourism industry, and it was interesting to hear about their life in Zambia. Luckily, another guest brought their ipod along for some sounds, and yes, Africa by Toto was on it (as well as the Minder theme… who has that on their ipod?!). There was a big countdown for midnight, but I think Catkin was disappointed at the options for New Year’s snogs. Soon after midnight the rain started, and only got heavier and heavier. The courtyard outside the bar slowly filled up until we eventually had to make a dash for it back to the Land Rover and into our very dry and cosy roof tent.

New Year’s Day was spent relaxing in the campsite. In the afternoon we went for a walk along the riverbank and saw loads of hippos (chortling away to themselves), and then as the sun set a family of giraffes came and loped along the opposite bank.

The next day we took the Land Rover for morning and afternoon game drives, for a few hours each time. The roads were very wet and muddy, but we managed to keep it all together and not get stuck. We saw loads of wildlife, only missing out on the elusive leopard. At one point we were watching three elephants, including one baby, walking along when they came to a stream. We saw the two big elephants cross, but lost sight of the baby, until eventually it reappeared from behind its mother, completely soaked. The water mark on the mother was higher than the baby elephant, so we can only assume that it waded through using its trunk as a snorkel.

The highlight, just as we were giving up hope, was seeing two lionesses and two cubs right on the road. Even though this is supposedly the low season, the lions were being followed by loads of safari vehicles, all vying to give their customers the best view of the animals. One of the lionesses was soaking up all the attention, a decided to have a well earned rest in the middle of the road.

In case you’re wondering, a flatdog is a crocodile, and we saw a couple of them too.

We had planned to follow the river south-west from the park toward Lusaka, which would have been a massive shortcut, however with the on-set of the wet season, and particularly after the recent heavy rain, all the advice we were getting lead us to believe the road was impassable, even for a Camel Trophy Land Rover, and given that we were a single vehicle, abandoned the idea. This meant a four hour drive back to the main road from whence we came and then another six hours on seal of varying quality (negotiating some huge potholes).

With about 220km to go to Lusaka as the sun set, we pulled in to the only campsite for miles around. The quoted priced for a night’s camping seemed a little high, but we didn’t really have many options so decided to stop. In fact, it was the most expensive campsite we had been in since Europe, and for very basic facilities. When the manager came to see us soon after Catkin had started cooking dinner (I was reading the workshop manual about our latest noise) and told us that he would be switching the generator off in half an hour, we let him know that we thought the price for camping was far too much for a campsite that didn’t provide any lighting after 8:30pm, but when we started talking about either keeping the generator going or discounting the price, he just walked off into the night, and shortly after all went dark. Then we found that the showers were cold (the water was still warming up), and that the tap water was barely fit for washing in, let alone drinking, and we knew we were being had. Morning came, and it was time to pay up. To cut a long story short, after protracted negotiations, many sob stories, and a phone call to the police (who couldn’t come to sort it out because they didn’t have a car), we finally agreed that we would pay half the inflated price, which was still a lot for what we got. We don’t mind camping rough, and prefer to if we can find a good spot, but if we pay top dollar for a campsite we like to get what we are paying for!

On to Lusaka, and another chance for groceries, as well as having a couple of wheels balanced, with a night at another campsite surrounded by roaming zebras, impala and giraffes. From here we head to Livingstone, the mighty Victoria Falls and then to Botswana.

Christmas on Lake Malawi

2007-12-29T13:35:00.000Z

After the delays in Dar es Salaam, broken spring and our quest for fuel we did not know whether we were going to make it to a good spot in Malawi for Christmas;. In Mzuzu we stocked up on cash, after queueing at the ATM for one hour, diesel and we bought the elusive frozen (semi frozen) chicken for Christmas day. We then made it to our intended destination of Chinteche Beach and it was lovely.

During the night Santa seemed to have located us and filled our sleeping bag bags we had left attached to the fly sheet. Gavin received a new pair of flip-flops. I am so pleased that Santa correctly guessed his shoe size and I received a couple of very interesting books which Santa must have found in an obscure bookshop in Mzuzu.

Christmas morning we attended the local Bandwe Presbyterian Mission Church. I had been told that the service was from 8-9. When we eventually found it, at 10 past 8, I realised that the start was at some time between 8 and 9 so we were not late at all. All during the service more parishioners drifted in and the congregation increased in size at least 10 fold from when the service first started. Although we had been told that the service was in English it was still quite difficult to follow as the pastor often became quite excited and kept lapsing into Chichewa and shouting. Luckily the gentleman next to us would attempt to interpret for us. My concentration was also interrupted by the very noisy baby in the next pew breast feeding and burping, the dog which took great interest in the altar and in the pastor’s leg and the numerous cell phones ringing at regular intervals. The service was held in a large new church, very close to the old church. The Pastor informed us that old church had been built in the honour of Mrs Somebody’s (yes he did say Mrs Somebody) memory, he also explained that Mrs Somebody was the wife of the Missionary and had died soon after giving birth to her son who also died.

Initially the singing had been rather weak but as the numbers of singers swelled and everyone got into the swing of things it was magnificent and during the final hymn (I did my best to keep up with the Chichewa not having a clue what I was singing) drums were taken up from underneath the pews. At the end of the service Gavin was slightly taken aback when we were asked to come to the front to introduce ourselves, but we were made to feel very welcome and were asked to sign the visitors book.

There was anther white lady at the service, from Scotland, who gave us some background information on Mrs Somebody, whose name was Mrs Martin. She was friends with one of Mrs Martin’s daughters, now 80 years old living in Scotland, and they had set up a foundation to provide funds for the girls schools in the area. The original idea had been Mrs Martin’s in the twenties. She also explained how her friend had returned to Bandwe when she was 60 and learned for the first time that she had a baby brother who was stillborn, no one had thought to tell her. Apparently Mrs Martin died soon afterwards of black water fever.

Back at the campsite we set about roasting our chicken. Gavin did the manly thing and looked after the fire while I tended to the chicken. After the usual problems of fires not starting etc we sat down to Christmas lunch in true Bowley fashion, rather late. I had been a bit worried about how the chicken had been stored so ensured that it was well and truly cooked- it certainly was, it was falling off the bone, but still very succulent. This was quite good because we did not really have a good knife to carve it with. The potje performed fantastically- the spuds were roasted, the carrots sweet and soft and onions juicy. But we noticed a massive change to our appetites. Normally the two of us would polish off a bird with stacks of potatoes and vegetables. This time we were full and there was still half a chicken left.

Boxing Day was spent lazing around, catching up on laundry, baking bread in the potje and swimming in Lake Malawi.

In the campsite were some more overlanders in a 4 wheel drive truck. It has taken them 14 months to get this far from Austria, and they took a ferry from Genoa to Tunis. It is quite funny, now when we talk to other overlanders, we all know the same people up and down the continent. The other thing is that overlanders seem to have a very different view of the countries they visit, compared to backpackers, people who are working for NGO’s or other tourists. We often have to keep some of our opinions to ourselves but with other overlanders we can freely discuss the problems and frustrations we have had making our way through Africa.

Malawi has been very refreshing compared to Ethiopia, Kenya and Tanzania in terms of far fewer people demanding money etc from us. Although one man did ask us to buy his corn on the cob (for about 5 times the usual price) because he was hungry, when we suggested that he might want to eat the corn on the cob himself he just looked blankly at us. Also in Malawi the towns are well organised and clean, the countryside is lush and full of carefully tended crops (although we are here during the rainy season). Even the driving is considerably better with fewer lorry wrecks by the wayside.

Further down the coast of Lake Malawi we stopped at Senga Bay for a few days. This is more of a town than the other places we have visited so there are many more people around. Yesterday I walked through the fishing village right on the beach negotiating my way through the drying nets and men either repairing them, sleeping or talking on their cell phones. Behind the beach are rows and rows of fish drying racks- the smell is really quite overpowering!

From here we head to Lilongwe and then on to Zambia.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-23T19:54:00.001Z

It’s been an eventful few days since the end of the last entry. We have now left the coast behind, although we had to depart Dar es Salaam with unfinished business, as the day we left was a public holiday (for the end of the Muslim Haj). We still did not have the vehicle insurance we had been trying to buy since Nairobi, and publishing the last entry had to wait until we found an internet café in Morogoro. We did manage to stock up at a supermarket, though, and best of all, we finally found a Potje, or Dutch Oven (the cast iron pot type – not the other one…). Catkin has been dreaming about all the new things she will be able to cook in the pot, like bread, pizza, chocolate cake(!), stews, scones and even roast chicken!!! I have been dreaming about eating all of the above (especially the roast chicken. I love roast chicken). Tonight we are finally trying it out for the first time, with bread.

Morogoro was a bustling town. We ended up camping for free at an hotel – the Canadian owner seemed most unwilling to charge us for the privilege of parking (and sleeping) in the carpark.

From there our route toward Iringa took us through the Mikuni National Park. I thought I was pretty smart when I was first to spot a baboon by the roadside, but I was well and truly trumped when suddenly Catkin shouted out “ELEPHANTS!” And there they were, just wandering along not far from the road. We stopped and watched them for a while, and ended up seeing quite a few throughout the journey through the park.

We were aiming for a farm campsite just south of Iringa, where we had heard you could buy tender steak from their farm shop. Sounded too good to miss.

Near the end of the day we were alarmed by a loud noise that sounded like scraping metal as we went through a depression in the road surface. There was no way we could scrape anything, and a quick inspection of the underside of the Land Rover and the road revealed nothing. We carried on to the campsite, but a few new knocks and clunks on the way suggested that all was not okay. A closer inspection at the campsite revealed the worst – a broken front spring. And on a smooth sealed road!

In the morning we decided to go back the 50km to Iringa to look for a new spring, rather than carry on the 200km or so to Mbeya. The people at the campsite gave us a name of a place to ask for, and we ended up dragging one of their employees around town to various new and used parts stores. In the end we settled on a used spring, with a plan to get some good new ones in South Africa where they should be cheaper. We pushed on for a bit until we found a quiet spot in a forest, then while Catkin cooked lunch I whipped the broken spring out and put the good one back in. So far so good.

That was yesterday. Last night we stayed at Matema, at the very top of Lake Malawi, and today we crossed the border into Malawi itself. We have ventured up a steep zigzag to Livingstonia, and then descended again in a quest for fuel. Luckily we have found a campsite that is willing to sell some of their generator fuel to us so that we can make it to the next filling station. Tomorrow we head further down the lake to find a nice spot to set up camp for a few days, and spend Christmas.

Seeing as we are south of the Equator (although still in the tropics), we have just had our fourth “longest day” in a row after following summers around the world over the last 18 months. This one was the shortest longest day I’ve ever experienced though, with about 12 ½ hours between sunrise and sunset. Not quite the same as London or Queenstown.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all, especially our friends and families. Keep safe,
Gavin and Catkin

Jambo, hakuna matata

2007-12-20T15:26:00.000Z

After a delightful interlude at Lake Naivasha, listening to the Hippos munch and stomp around at night whilst sitting round a campfire (Gavin finally used the axe) and watching the birds and monkeys during the day (black and white colobus and vervets) we passed by the Longonot crater in the Great Rift Valley and out to the white sands and swaying palm trees of the coast, via Mombassa. The access road into Mombassa took us through one of the most foul towns ever, with people walking barefoot ankle deep in rubbish ridden stinking mud. After our usual tour of the port (somehow we always end up at the port, could be Gavin’s secret hankering to ship the car straight back to NZ) we found our way through the city. Mombassa is a colourful vibrant town with music playing everywhere and women wearing bright kangas and headscarves.

Tiwi was our first beach since the Red Sea. Although the Red Sea is stunning underwater it really does not have the most exciting coastline whereas Tiwi was a tropical paradise. I gorged myself on fresh windfalls of coconut, which I surprised myself by really enjoying- nothing like those horrid bounty chocolate bars. The juice was very sweet but I really liked the nutty flesh. The locals slice open the coconuts adeptly with a small machete, I resorted to smashing them open with a hatchet. That evening we were invited to a fish Braai. We ate crayfish, tuna, snapper and greenfish. It was delicious but we think that most of the fish would not have been legal in New Zealand because it was undersized; I have never seen such small tuna fish.

We spent the next day of snorkelling and exploring the larval overhangs (where larva met the ocean and hardened, somebody please help me with the geological name for this), blow holes and caves and pools of water even hotter than the ambient sea water temperature. Reluctantly we then headed south to the Tanzanian border. Our next campsite near Pangani was even better than the last. We camped just behind the beach, they had hot showers (although the humidity was very high, hot showers are such a luxury for us), beautifully scented frangipani trees and even an internet place next door along a footpath fringed with bougainvillaea.

At Pangani we made our way to the ferry to cross the estuary only to find the ferry looking rather bereft. After enquiring I found out that it was not working “maybe later”. We decided to go around rather than wait for it to be fixed and when we bought fuel everybody seemed to know that it was not working. One suspects that it had not been working for a while so I guess that the two lorries waiting (the drivers had made themselves very comfortable) may still be waiting.

It was a fairly slow, rough but very pretty drive to the main road through small villages and plantations of sisal, coconut, pineapple and sugar beet. Once we hit the main road it was only a few hundred kilometres to Dar es Salaam. The road was in good condition and the bus drivers and lorry drivers have vehicles they can drive quite fast whilst not appearing to have any understanding that there are other vehicles on the road. I think it was only once we were forced off the road. Amazingly there are many police check points. Here the police check that you have a silly number of warning triangles and attempt to extort cash out of unsuspecting drivers. One successful technique has been to feign an interest in Premier League football, lucky for us the BBC World Service seems to be as obsessed with football as is the rest of the world so we know the latest football gossip- enough to get us out of trouble so far.

All through Africa, as cyclists ourselves we are generally impressed by the loads people carry on their bikes. Loads vary from a 3 seater sofa (shame we did not get a photo of it) to numerous sacks of potatoes or four or five jerry cans of water or the whole family. However we really thought that this spare wheel was not going to get this cyclist very far.

To reach the beaches and campsites closest to Dar es Salaam one can either use the Magogoni ferry or drive an extra 50km. How bad can the ferry be we asked ourselves as we approached the city a good hour and half before sunset? Long after sunset we emerged off the ferry, battling with all the pedestrians and cyclists so again we had to find a place to stop in the dark. We could not find the place we were looking for and when we saw Kim Beach advertising camping we went for it. This place was also hard to find and eventually we found ourselves on the beach and guessed that this must be it. With our torches we found the ablutions block, crawling with cockroaches and a shallow freshwater well. The humidity is so high that everything takes ages to dry and we really wanted a shower. It was quite late so we made do with a strip wash. In the morning we discovered that Kim Beach is some sort of Eco Tourism place and cost a fortune. Not only were supposed to pay too much for camping overnight but if we wanted to stay during the day, despite having paid to camp, there was an extra fee to pay! It sounds as if eco tourism here means provide nothing and expect a lot. We had more pressing things on our minds, such as getting the computer fixed which did a great big burp and refused to work, so back into the city off to Dell computers we went.

We spent the whole day in Dar es Salaam waiting for the computer to be fixed. At the end of the day expecting to have the computer ready and eager for us to use it again we were given bad news. The problem could not be fixed and they would have to save our data, wipe the hard drive completely and then re-install the programmes, many of which we do not have with us. The technician was not there to talk to so we arranged to return first thing in the morning to discuss it with him; to find out what he had tried and which programmes he could re-install. The next morning Gavin was not feeling well at all- anxiety about his beloved computer I am sure. So off I trundled back on the ferry back to town. This time I did not have to wait long as a pedestrian but as the ferry approached the other side I was showered, as were many others, by boiling water from the ferry engine’s radiator. The ferry is quite tightly packed and the panic that ensued was not pretty.

At the Dell place I had to pretend that I knew something about computers to the technician. Luckily Big Brother Rob had found a “method” on the internet for fixing this problem, but we were not confident in trying this out on our own and potentially losing all our data. So in my most diplomatic way I suggested to the technician that he might want to give it a go before wiping everything. Oh, no he says, wiping it is the only option, he has tried everything. Amazingly when we returned the next day he had not had to wipe the hard drive and our programmes were still there. We were very relieved.

Now we were free to visit Zanzibar, so the next day we packed a bag each, left the car at the campsite and braved the dalla dalla (public transport) and the Magogoni ferry again to catch the ferry to Zanzibar, the Spice Islands and heart of the slave trade.

After a three hour crossing we emerged into Stone Town which is delightful mixture of Arabic and colonial architecture backdrop for everyday Swahili life overlooking the turquoise ocean. It is also the birthplace of Freddie Mercury, his home is now a restaurant. We dined at an open air market in the evening and then chatted to other guests at the hotel until bed time. Now that we are in much more touristy areas than before we are meeting many other tourists and travellers, rather than other overlanders and it is so interesting to find out why other people are travelling. Overlanders are very much a breed separate to other travellers.

The next day we joined a spice tour which took us to spice farms where we saw, tasted, smelled, rubbed the plants and berries etc from which many spices originate and learned all sorts of interesting facts. Such as, nutmeg has quite potent aphrodisiac properties, the guide even gave us the recipe for lovers porridge. After a delicious lunch of fish curry (not Gavin’s favourite) and a swim we visited the Magapwani slave caves. After slave trading was made illegal the traders would secretly hold slaves (200 hundred at a time) in these caves and those who survived would be taken underground through a network of caves to waiting ships.

We had been told of the beautiful beaches right at the north of the Island (Nungwi) so we headed up there on the dalla dalla after the spice tour. After travelling in our own car for so long it was fun to be squashed into the back of the truck as people loaded chickens, coconut husks, bicycles and all manner of stuff. I did not even have to hang on because I was so firmly wedged in. We had also had been told, by a local, that high season had not yet started, that it would be easy to find accommodation and it would not be very expensive because all the resorts were more on the east. How misled we felt when we arrived. Our guidebook also described a place we did not recognise. Sure enough the beach was pretty, but there was resort after resort without a break. We eventually found a hotel which basically had running water, a mosquito net and a locking door. After a swim in the moonlight we went in search of food. All of the food was at inflated tourist prices, fine if you are on two week holiday to escape the European winter, not so great for a hungry G&C looking for some value. Even the food in the shops was ridiculously priced. We settled for bland rice and bananas from Mama’s café after asking a local where he ate.

In search of affordability and normality we headed a few kilometres south to Kendwa and found a banda (hut) on the beach where we chilled out for the next 24 hours before returning to Stone Town and catching the night ferry back to the mainland. That evening, having ordered our food in advance, we dined at a local café where the food was fresh and delicious (more fish curry for me) and a third of the price in Nungwi.

Zanzibar was a lovely interlude on a beautiful island rich with culture and tradition. It was fun to be backpacking again but it was also good to be back at the car, our home. After a day of and ministration in Dar es Salaam we will head away from the Indian Ocean, with some regret because it is lovely, towards Malawi where we hope to find a good spot for Christmas.

Slip Slidin' Away

2007-12-10T08:25:00.000Z

We enjoyed Swiss Henry’s slice of heaven in Marsabit so much that we ended up staying for two nights. It was the best campsite we had been in for ages, with clean, hot showers, a small round shelter (which we used – it was raining) and, of course, the bakery. It was a great place to relax after the rough journey to get there. We had heard that there was only 300km of rough, corrugated road remaining, and from there smooth seal all the way to Nairobi. Well, that might depend on what way you go.

We certainly had the first 300km of rough, corrugated road. Marsabit is quite high, and when we left it was raining in the mountains. The road was wet, so what is normally a dirt road was now a mud road, but that was okay. Once we got lower down the surface was dry and hard, and that was where the corrugations began. Big corrugations, and no matter what speed you go it feels like the car is going to shake apart.

We travelled slowly, to ease the trauma, and we were in no hurry. Just before we were planning to stop for lunch there was a loud “Bang!” like a large rock hitting something solid, accompanied by a new smell. “What the heck was that!?” I asked as we stopped to check it out. The tyres were okay, but looking under the car there was a lot of oil dripping from somewhere, and a trail of oil on the road behind us. I’m sure my sun tan completely disappeared as I feared the worst. Could this be the end? Closer inspection was required.

Fortunately (on the grand scale of things) it turned out to be one of our front shock absorbers. We had heard of others who had shock problems in Kenya and Ethiopia, so had been driving fairly conservatively to avoid suffering the same fate, but in vain. Anyway, we could drive on and fix it in Nairobi in a couple of days, although it was a pretty bouncy trip from there on. At times we felt like we were in a boat, bouncing over the waves. Despite the problems, we still made it to our planned destination of Isiolo that evening. At this point in our journey, we have covered about twice the distance we did in the Suzuki SJ in the Mongol Rally last year, but we have definitely had more than twice the car trouble!

We had planned a slight detour to Lake Naivasha enroute to Nairobi, and despite our faulty shock absorber, decided to stick to this plan, and to see how it went. Our route took us close to Mt Kenya, although we couldn’t see it as it was covered in cloud. Next on our “Tourist’s Checklist of Things To Do in Africa” was crossing the Equator, marked only by stopping for a quick photo next to the touts and me welcoming Catkin to the Southern Hemisphere (although I keep forgetting that now that we are in Kenya she is South African - perhaps because she hasn’t shouted yet for winning the Rugby World Cup…). I’ll tell you one thing though – it’s a lot colder and wetter around the Equator than we expected! At least we should begin seeing a lot more of the Southern Cross from now on (I managed to see it just before dawn on our second night in Kenya, at about 04ºNorth, low on the horizon). If you’re interested, the sunrise at the moment is about 0615hrs and the sunset 1830hrs.

Things were going well, so we decided to head for the lake. Our map showed a fairly direct route in that direction, with only a short section where the road was unsealed. What followed was a exiting afternoon of mud, which is great if you are a pig or a hippo, but not so great if you want to get somewhere before the sun goes down. Our first unscheduled detour took us up a track that kept getting narrower and less well defined until we finally decided to turn around when it started going in the wrong direction. It had been raining quite heavily, and by this time the dirt roads were getting very slippery. On our way back to our last known “point of certainty”, we came across a minibus that had slid of the road and was having trouble getting going again. The passengers were very well dressed, and not really in a position the push it out in the conditions. Never mind, Camel Trophy Land Rover to the rescue. As we pulled up, I could see them all eyeing up our winch, and our fate was sealed. We couldn’t get past anyway!

The only other time we had used the winch was to pull out a few old tree stumps in Kerswell Green, but I tried to make it look like I knew what I was doing. The Superwinch made light work of it, and in no time at all the bus was back on the road, and I was being thanked profusely by the driver and all the passengers. Catkin had made good use of herself taking photos and slipping over in the mud! Back on our way, we found the right road and things were going well. Until we turned off the right road onto another wrong road.

Once again we found ourselves on a narrowing track, and our GPS was telling us that the direction we were heading in wasn’t the one the map was telling us we should be going. It was getting late in the afternoon now, so we decided to carry on, as we knew we were heading toward the largest town in the area, and there we could reassess our plans. The track surface was wet clay, and quite slippery with it, so we were taking it pretty cautiously, crawling down hills in first gear low ratio. We were going okay though, until we came across a truck in the middle of the road, with lots of people milling around, looking suspiciously like it was stuck! The driver jumped in and had another go at driving out in order to get out of our way, but only succeeded in sliding completely into the ditch at a precarious angle. Once again we saw sparkles in the eyes of the onlookers when they noticed the winch on the Camel. So we got to use it for a second time. This time, however, the truck just kept sliding along the ditch, and was refusing to pop out onto the road. To begin with, we were only making it worse. Someone suggested filling in the culvert trench that had been dug across half the road width so that we could drive past and pull the truck out backwards. Catkin had the best idea though. When they opened the back of the truck for something she saw it was packed full of soft drinks and wheat! “Get it all out!” she told them. So we waited while everything was unloaded onto the mud. Even after unloading it was still a struggle, but eventually the truck came out back on to the road. Cheers all round! The driver, who had been looking very worried, was now very grateful, but as Catkin noted, failed to offer us a Coke each for our troubles.

Not much further down the road we edged past another truck stopped on the slippery road, and then proceeded to get our front and rear wheel on opposite sides of the ruts in the road. We were heading sideways down the hill, and I won’t tell you what Catkin said. But it was okay, I told her, because I had the diff lock on. Always seem confident is the key. At the same time we had some mad drunk running alongside us trying to ask us something or give us a present, I don’t really know what he was up to. I had to ask him to be quiet because I was trying to concentrate on driving. Eventually he gave up in disgust, or perhaps shortness of breath.

Further down the road we came across another bus stuck across the road, and while we were waiting to see if our recovery services were required again, a van got stuck behind us. We were trapped! Luckily, both got their passengers to push them out of trouble.

When we finally got back to the main road, it was getting close to sunset, so we started looking for a campsite. Nothing to be seen, so in the end we cut our losses and decided to head directly for Jungle Junction in Nairobi, arriving well after dark. It had been a long day. Luckily, arriving in Nairobi at night was not quite as bad a arriving in Cairo at night.

Jungle Junction is a place for overlanders to stay, meet other overlanders, swap tips etc. It’s a house in the suburbs with a huge garden for camping, and also has rooms, laundry services, a communal kitchen and so on. It’s been quite quiet while we have been here, but it was good to see two Swiss backpackers that we had met in Bahir Dar in Ethiopia.

Our first job on the Saturday morning was to try a find some shocks. Well we certainly got a shock when we asked what the price was. They are majorly expensive here. Tip to any other overlanders planning to travel through Kenya – bring a set from home! After shopping around, we found a set from a reputable company that were only double what we would have paid in the UK, instead of five times the price at the first place we went to.

Since then we have installed the said shocks, changed the engine oil and filter, been to Immigration to register our arrival in Kenya, to Customs to have our Carnet stamped in and Catkin has washed the car. We have also finally been able to catch up a little bit on our internet-based activities such as email, banking and the all important blog.

From Nairobi we finally made it to Lake Naivasha, staying at Fisherman’s Camp, where hippos come out of the water at night to graze on the grass on the other side of the electric fence.

After passing through Nairobi again we have made it to Tiwi Beach on the Indian Ocean coast, as a staging point for our advance to Tanzania. The beach is just what you imagine a tropical paradise to be like, and we are parked right down by the sand.

Originally we had planned to go through Uganda and Rwanda, but have decided against it now for various reasons too boring to go into here. And no Kenyan Game Parks for us unfortunately, as we are quite attached to our arms and legs, which is what they charge you here to get in (maybe they feed them to the lions). Zambia and Botswana will hopefully provide in that department, at a more reasonable cost.

P.S. Tractor Fans: I forgot to mention last time that after Egypt we started seeing Massey Ferguson’s all over the place again, although not too many in Ethiopia. I think Turkey still leads with the most though.

2007-12-07T21:42:00.000Z

Happy birthday Rob from across the plains looking at Kilimanjaro but too cloudy to see it at all. Heading to the coast. Have a grand day.

I love the smell of fresh bread in the morning

2007-12-04T06:30:00.000Z

It was all going so well at the Michelin workshop until their car hoist collapsed, with a major hydraulic fluid leak, with our car on it. Luckily only two of the wheels were off at the time. It was then a bit disconcerting to see all the workers scurrying around with trolleyjacks, which also kept slipping and breaking, while other workers were hanging onto the roof rack in a vain attempt to take the weight off the brake discs. Gavin took control and we located the axle stands and made everything decidedly more stable. The only apparent damage was a bent brake guard which Gavin fixed. Once they had successfully fitted and balanced our three new tyres we were happy to leave.

After stocking up on essentials, such as loo paper, powdered and fresh milk, butter and even some fresh meat we planned to depart Addis Ababa. We collected Gavin’s passport and a not so brief return visit to the Land Rover dealer to purchase some gaskets and seals for the rear diff and transfer box as he had now decided that we were losing a bit of oil. Finally we were underway, heading south to the Great Rift Valley. Despite fairly good tar seal the road was slow; littered with the usual carts, poor drivers and their poorly maintained vehicles, motor-tricycle taxis, livestock, pedestrians and cyclists. Also, as usual, our map was a little off the mark and the distances were considerably longer than indicated. So what should have been a couple of hours, to Lake Langano, turned into a night-time expedition. Not advisable considering that the other drivers seemed to think that headlights are not necessary and there were still a few carts and pedestrians on the road. We had been advised not to bush camp in this part of the world so we were relieved to find the motel we had been recommended, we camped right by the lake.

The next day it was a short journey to the hot springs at Wondo Genet. They had a couple of pools and separate male and female showering areas. Entering the ladies area was reminiscent of the Hamman I visited in Aleppo. The hot, hot water gushed out of pipes protruding from the hillside and I was greeted by the sight of a rather corpulent naked older lady sprawled over the ground underneath one of the pipes. There was also a young mother with her two toddlers enjoying a wash. It was wonderful just sitting being pummelled by the water. When we left the queue outside was quite big, it was at the end of the day and many of the locals used the hot springs as a bath house.

The southern part of Ethiopia felt like a different country to the north. Firstly the people were much larger and louder than in the north. The land management was also very different with evidence of larger crops, there were far fewer people walking, instead they rode on carts pulled by donkeys which were also much bigger than those in the north. The women however, still always seemed to carry the heavy loads such as 20 litre water containers while the men had the important job of carrying their stick.

Instead of heading to the border at Moyale we headed south west to the Omo valley which we heard was very interesting in terms of different tribal peoples and the scenery. Also it meant avoiding the infamous Moyale Road, apparently rife with bandits and big sharp boulders to trash your car on. After filling our fuel and water tanks in Arba Minch we headed to the border. Unfortunately we had spot of bother with some police at a barricade by the Bawit river.

There are a few of theses barricades dotted around and generally after waiting, someone appears and after enquiring where we are from and where we are going we are on our way. Not so here. These police officers first of all wanted a letter of some description which we were certain we did not need then they decided they needed a “fee” from us! This we were positive was not required. When the truck beside us was allowed through the barrier we also decided to go, the police however had different ideas. Out came the guns etc so we stopped. Gavin got out of the car to try to reason with them but they then seemed terrified of us and started running away to behind their fire. What was a bit more worrying was when they started sending all the locals away! I just sat in the car thinking that this was not the time for me to give someone a telling off.

So we were at a bit of a stalemate. They would not talk to us but they would also not let us through and were keeping their guns cocked (or whatever you do with guns), not a good time to test my theory that they had no ammunition. Having made sure I had parked the car in the most inconvenient place; in that it blocked the road for any more traffic, I decided to get out the chairs and sit in the shade to wait it out. Eventually a truck turned up, then another. One of the truck drivers spoke good English and helped resolve this impasse. After it became clear that they wanted a bribe for me trying to go through their barrier it also became even more apparent that they were not going to get one from us. All of a sudden we could leave, there were a few firm handshakes and everyone was all smiles and we were on our way.

We made camp that night in solitude. Not a single observer turned up. Also the area did seem to be much more sparsely inhabited than the rest of Ethiopia we had visited. When the sun set we found out why: We were in mosquito hell. Despite a smoky fire, mosquito coils, citronella candle, a useless ultrasonic insect repeller device and even resorting to fly spray, I was bitten nearly 20 times through my specially selected trousers and shirt. Thankfully I had washed before the sun went down.

The next day at Turmi we met some very friendly police officers at the barricade who asked us to take lunch to their colleagues 20 km down the road at the next barrier. Not wanting to have more guns pulled on us we happily obliged them. Or at least we would have if we could find their colleagues. After over 40miles we arrived at Omorate (a border town miles from the border). We ended up giving the lunch box to the Immigration man there and hoping for the best, just hoping that the intended recipient found some food from somewhere.

Omorate is a decidedly unsophisticated town but it did have a man with whom I could change our last Ethiopian Birr into Kenyan Shillings, whilst a kid (young goat) the size of a kitten looked on. A very helpful man told us the way to the border, the turn off was 17km back at a sign indicating that there was a health clinic down the sandy track.

We did not really know anything about the tribes living in the area but given the variety of styles of dress there seemed to be a number of different ones. Most of the women were bare breasted and clearly the Ethiopian Tourist promotional posters depict the girls with the most “fresh” figures, never the women who have had 5 or 6 children or their mothers! Many wore skirts made from cow hides which they also used as backpacks. Both men and women wore lots of necklaces and some rubbed some ochre coloured substance on their faces and into their hair. Some of the men had ornate hair dos with different coloured mud raised up at the back with a feather poking out. Apparently this indicates he has been successful with a big kill over the last year. I am not sure this big kill relates to tribal warfare or to buffalo (I don’t think it relates to tourists). In general these people presented themselves with a lot more dignity and pride than many other people we have seen in Ethiopia wearing filthy clothes and their children with filthy faces and bodies, always with the outreached upturned palms. I am not sure how these tribal people have retained their ancient ways in the face of all the temptations the modern living poses. The area is not very easy to reach but it is also not that isolated and tourists do come here. I don’t know what the tourists do, look at them, pay them to take a photo?

The children along the more main road were certainly relatively tourist wise. They would do tricks and little dances or hold up souvenirs to buy as we drove by, inevitably if nothing is given an upturned palm is offered.

Later on that day we had another odd police encounter at a barricade in the middle of a sandy plain, with a few shacks nearby (maybe they were expecting us to bring them lunch). Anyway after explaining we were going to Kenya we were told we must ask the man standing by the car his permission to go ahead. Permission Gavin duly asked. He was met with a very blank look. So we thought we would show them our passports. Again a blank look, then we were nodded through.

We drove for another 5km and made camp. Luckily I had finished my wash before the locals arrived, having followed our tracks. However, they brought good news- we were in Kenya. The strange barricade 5 km back was the border. When our next visitor arrived, with his herd of cows, I was half way through cooking dinner. He sat and watched us for a while. I think “Big Brother” has not reached rural East Africa yet, so they make do with watching us. After some time he got up to leave so we nodded and waved goodbye. Fatal mistake, he thought we wanted him to stay. So he sat down again and made himself even more comfortable. His herd wandered off while Gavin and I were admiring the full moon as our tummies were rumbling louder and louder. Eventually he got up to leave. We quickly ate dinner fearing more company and lo and behold half an hour later he returned and appeared to settle down for the night with his wooden pillow. Just as we were going to go to bed ourselves he got up came over, said something, waved and was off. We were half expecting him to find him waiting for us in the morning. Despite all this he was quite magnificent to look at; very tall with excellent deportment, wearing a bright cloth to retain some modesty with a touch of face paint here and there.

The next day we made ourselves known to the police in Ileret, a town comprising a police building, their radio antennae and not much else. The route the police suggested took us through the Sibiloi National Park, along Lake Turkana. I did ask if we had to pay Park fees and they said it should be OK because we were driving through. Not so, after driving 70 km, crossing sandy river beds and lava fields we came to the park rangers who wanted a rather considerable sum of money from us. After much discussion we turned around and went back the way we came. Only a delay of 5 hours or so.

Our brand new tyres were already receiving a bit of a hammering from the rocks and lava so at lunch Gavin again played swap the tyres, replacing the rear tyres with the old ones. As we continued on our way we saw no-one, the last vehicle we had seen was yesterday lunchtime. We were really pleased with the privacy this would offer until just before stopping for the night, on the 4^th Parallel, the transfer box lever broke. We were unable to select low ratio or apply the diff lock, essential for this terrain (for people with scant technical know-how, like me, this is what helps the car drive up really steep slippery slopes and negotiate technical routes).

The prospect of getting stuck and running out of water in the biggest middle of a dry nowhere was not appealing. We had not seen a well since before the border.

Lucky for me I married a most practical and manly chap (the Frenchies called him MacGyver) who repaired it. So after another omelette dinner we slept easily, well would have, if it had not been a howling, hot gale.

The next day we actually came to a town, North Horr. The people did look at us as if we had come from outer space but they still pointed us in the right direction for Marsabit. That night we ran our water tank dry and our reserve can did not contain as much water as we thought it did. However, my plan of having the fridge and camelbaks fully stocked with water worked and we made it to Marsabit the following afternoon with litres to spare.

We had heard, by word of mouth, of a place to camp called Swiss Henry’s Place. We had also heard that his wife set up a bakery. That clinched it for us-we had to find it. We had some co-ordinates which turned out to be a bit wrong. As we were driving around the hills beyond Marsabit a Land Rover approached and it was Swiss Henry himself. True to form the bakery was great and we gorged ourselves on fresh bread and butter. I even bought a cake to celebrate Averil’s birthday.

Gavin had been fretting for the last two weeks because we had not been able to send any text message or emails and was concerned that his family would be worrying, so he was really pleased to finally get a cell phone signal. Apologies to anyone who might have been worrying.

The long and winding road

2007-12-02T15:10:00.000Z

This post was written at Lake Langano, Ethiopia, on 20 November 2007.

Our stay in Bahir Dar was rounded out by a day of sightseeing. In the morning, we took a cruise on Lake Tana, visiting a number of island monasteries. We only went into one (due to budget constraints – there is an entrance fee to each), but the murals inside were brilliant, telling various stories from the Bible and history.

While out in the boat we also had a look at the outlet into the Blue Nile. In the afternoon, we drove out to see the Blue Nile Falls. The falls, known as “Smoke of Fire” are hailed to be 450 metres wide, with spray reaching up to a kilometre away. We were both quite disappointed here though, as the adjacent Hydro scheme draws off most of the water, so the massive falls shown in the posters were reduced to a mere trickle. Worse still, we had paid to go and see them. Catkin wasn’t happy, and someone was going to get it…

First in the firing line was the unwitting carpark attendant, an employee of the tourism bureau. He had asked us what we thought, so we told him, suggesting it was unfair to charge to see the falls at low flow. He happily gave us the name of the Head of the tourism bureau and suggested we discuss it with him, and then had the gall to ask if we could give him a pen. This was his fatal mistake. After having been asked for pens by almost every child in Northern Ethiopia, Catkin let him know in no uncertain terms that he would NOT be receiving a pen from us.

So, the next morning it was off to the tourism bureau office. The Head wasn’t there (maybe he was hiding from Catkin?), so a deputy listened to what we had to say. He was very apologetic that the falls were much reduced from their original splendour, but it seems that is just the way it is, and I don’t think our suggestions to stop promoting them as they were, and in particular, to stop charging tourists to see them, will go too far. He did, however, give us some brochures on Lalibela, which was our next port of call.

He also, a bit unfairly probably, got a bit of an ear-bashing about the behaviour of the children we had encountered in Ethiopia. Almost without fail, after the initial “You! You! You! You!” greeting, the children demand money, pens, t-shirts, “a trouser”, food, medicine, etc. Often it is from children who look healthy, are well dressed and on their way to or from school, with a bag of schoolbooks, but they seemed to have picked up this bad habit of demanding something for nothing from foreigners. When you see the number of Aid agency vehicles cruising the countryside, you can’t help wondering if they are part of the problem rather than the solution, for all the good work they do. Anyway, suffice to say, a tourism department official wasn’t really able to comment on the education of the nation’s children. Later, in Addis Ababa, we happened to walk past the Ministry of Education offices, so I had to quicken our step and point to something on the other side of the road in the hope Catkin didn’t notice, or she would have been in there tearing strips off them.

Always keen for an adventure, we opted to take our ageing tyres on what would hopefully be one last voyage of discovery for them. We had been warned that the road to Lalibela was bad, with many stretches consisting mainly of sharp rocks and large sections under reconstruction by the Chinese. Anyway, it was worse than we expected. Our speed average 25-30km/h for most of the day. After our late start from the tourism bureau, we weren’t able to make the 300km or so by nightfall, so found a reasonable place to camp for the night. In the morning we only had about five or six people stop to watch us eat breakfast and clean our teeth, so it was a good result.

Lalibela is famous in Ethiopia for its numerous rock hewn churches. Of these, 11 are in the town itself, and you buy one ticket to see all 11. Unfortunately, the ticket price (for foreign tourists) doubled a year ago to an extortionate sum, but fortunately (for us anyway) the churches are grouped in three sites, so we quickly worked out that we could buy one ticket and share it. While I was waiting outside one site for Catkin, a “deacon” came and asked if I had enjoyed the churches. I asked why the tickets were so expensive, and was surprised to learn that the money pays the salaries of the priests and deacons. Hmmm…

The late afternoon was spent mending yet another puncture, but it was very pleasing to sit at the hotel at the top of the hill and enjoy a beer as the sun set.

From Lalibela, we were heading to Addis Ababa. More bad roads in all direction, but we decided to take what looked to be the shortest route (although not the main road).

We encountered more stone throwing little boys. I reversed back to one, but he took off at the speed of light. Another, I stopped and jumped out to chase, but my dreams of apprehending the offender ended in a cloud of dust when I slipped over in the gravel! The grazes have nearly all healed now, thanks for asking. Immediately after one incident a white Land Cruiser from Save the Children went past. I reminisced about collecting door to door in Warkworth for Save the Children when I was young, and now here were the very children that have been saved, throwing stones at my car! We joked about a new charity called Stone the Children. Ah, it was funny. We laughed.

The Scenic Route we found ourselves on for the next two days didn’t quite match what was on out map, but most of the time was generally heading south, which was the right direction, so we kept going. I don’t think many foreigners travel this way, as the reactions of the locals were totally different to what we had experienced in the more tourist oriented areas. The scenery was spectacular, crossing three deep canyons, with very steep descents and ascents. Low ratio on the transfer box got a good workout, and we only got two more punctures. And Catkin thrilled the locals in one town by driving the wrong way around their only roundabout, because “some cows were in my way!”

We even made our way into a closed area of roadworks, because we didn’t take the detour (which wasn’t marked…). Anyway, after telling the man in charge “we have to get to Addis Ababa, tonight” he let us through, and sent an escort to make sure we didn’t go the wrong way. We had been having trouble finding a good campsite that night, and it was now dark. We finally did find a spot by a river, and had our coldest night in the tent so far – down to minus 2.5ºC. Icicles all round. Pity I shaved the beard off in Sudan.

We only had a short distance to go the next morning to get to Addis Ababa, and most of it was on a very good asphalt road. Unfortunately, the ability and skill of the Ethiopian drivers is inversely proportional to the condition of the road. Actually, no. They are terrible whatever the road condition, but terrible and FAST on a good road.

There were a few things we needed to sort out in Addis, and top of the list were applying for Kenyan visas and finding the Michelin Man to see about new tyres (although it was now Saturday, so these would have to wait until Monday). In the meantime, we filled in the time with doing our washing and checking email. Although there is plenty of internet access in Ethiopia, all of it is dial-up, and all seems to run through a single server, so it is slow slow SLOW. As for our blog site, we couldn’t even get onto it, let alone publish the post we had been carrying around for a week. Very frustrating, but that’s just the way it is. In the meantime, we have kept writing the blog posts so that when we do get somewhere with decent internet (probably Nairobi now), we can foist them all on you at once.

We have ended up spending a lot more time in Capital cities on this trip than we thought we would. Lately, there have been visas to apply for along the way, and often we need to by a part or two for the Land Rover. We usually save our washing until we are staying in a proper campsite or hotel, and sometimes we even splash out and go out for a meal. Here, we went to the Addis Ababa Restaurant, and I had ribs. And it was just ribs with lots of meat and no vegetables to get in the way. Man, was it good. And I had beer, too. Ribs and beer – delicious.

Also in Addis Ababa, we caught up to Louis the Dutchman, whom we last saw when he departed Khartoum four days before we did. It was good to see him again, and get a few more pointers about our planned route south, as he has been that way before. He seems to have turned over a new leaf, too, as we never saw one bottle of Coke touch his lips, where previously we had seen him often drink three or four in a row.

Finally, on Monday, after applying for a Kenyan visa for me (British Catkin would have needed one, but South African Catkin doesn’t) and buying some exciting Land Rover parts, we found the Michelin Man, and he even had the right tyres in stock to match our (almost) unused spare. All was going well until we broke their hoist…

Bonfires and Baboons

2007-12-01T13:05:00.000Z

This was written in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia, on the10th of November 2007. Due to very poor internet facilities in

Ethiopia

I am posting this from Nairobi.

What a difference a day makes. As soon as we entered Ethiopia we started climbing and the temperature plummeted, but more of that later.

The day we left Khartoum turned out to be a long one, complicated by getting lost in both of the towns we went through. In Wad Madani we ended up at a dead end on a dusty football pitch on the Nile and in Gedaref we got caught up in a diversion that took us through back yards and drying laundry. A very kind taxi driver led us through the dusty, cobbled (if we were lucky) rutted tracks to where we could pick up the main road again. The road from Khartoum to Galabat on the border was very good. Except for our little detours we were motoring, clocking up the most miles driven in one day since we left Worcestershire.

That night, being November 5^th, Gavin had a little surprise. He pulled out a small packet of sparklers and despite not having a guy to burn on our rubbish fire we celebrated Guy Fawkes Night in style.

By now we had left the desert behind. We camped in a crop field surrounded by properly sized trees, grass and such vegetation we have not seen since Turkey. Of course we also had the insects to entertain us. The locusts were huge and the grass hoppers and other bugs were into everything, up a sleeve, frying in the flame of the stove and adding protein to our pasta.

Departing Sudan was far more simple than entering and in no time Gavin had all the paperwork completed. I stayed with the car because there is no point me trying to sort out the paperwork in an Islamic country, and we do not like leaving the car unattended at borders where there are always many dodgy geezers hanging around. We then crossed a rickety bridge into a far more chaotic Ethiopian border post. There were people everywhere. Ladies carrying umbrellas to shelter the baby on their back, border guides offering their services and horse drawn carriages. Interestingly a number of young Ethiopian men approached me, advising not to change money at the border, that there are banks in the next town and that many Ethiopians at tourist destinations are not to be trusted. Entering Ethiopia was also very simple. After a passport stamp and ensuring that we had yellow fever certificates we were on our way.

Ethiopia is a beautiful country and much of it mountainous. The countryside seems to be evenly and quite densely populated and the main method of transport being Shank’s Pony. There is never a stretch of road where we do not see either people walking and/or livestock grazing or on the move also. I think that the people are also very fit, considering that most live at altitude and they are on the move the whole day- the children are certainly fast running after us. Gavin likens some of the villages to fairy villages. They are very picturesque with thatched rondavels. The people are petite as is the livestock. I have never seen such dainty cows, tiny lambs, all the donkeys look to be miniature and the horses are more the size of donkeys. Much of the day to day living seems to take place in the outside and the country just feels to be bursting with life with human activity, lush vegetation, ,birdsong, the sounds of insects and animals making the noises they make.

We had been told a few things about Ethiopia in advance. One was about how bad the roads were. Indeed the road for the next 200km or so to Azezo was a bit of a bone shaker as was the road to Simien Mountains National Park. We had also been warned about the children; that they throw stones and are always asking for pens, money etc. Later on we decided that the children are in fact a type of pest and we need a type of child repellent. Anytime we stopped children would gather around; “are you poor?” they ask, “give me pen, give me money, give me your clothes ….” the demands never end which is similar to their presence. The worst times are early in the morning and in the evening when they are on their way to and from school. We have to get up half an hour earlier so that we can complete those private ablutions, one prefers not to have an audience for, under cover of darkness.

Despite being in the opposite direction to our destination we headed up to Simien Mountains National Park to observe the endangered Walia Ibex and the Gelada Baboons. On the way we stopped off at Debark to pay our park fees and arrange to pick up the obligatory armed Scout (Awaco) at 7.30am the following day. During our lunch stop we were amused by a group of honeystealers, attempting to nab some of the sweet stuff from a bees nest in a eucalyptus tree.

The extremely conscientious Awaco, complete with AK47, was punctual the next morning and after realising that he did not know how to open or close the car door we were on our way. If a man is not carrying a big stick or umbrella he is carrying an AK47. However, we have not seen ammunition anywhere so I was not too worried. Also, Awaco did sit in the back with his thumb over the barrel, most of the time, which was most reassuring!

The road out of Debark was a shocker with football sized sharp boulders as cobbles, livestock and people everywhere, but back on the open road the track improved for the 40 minute drive to the entrance of the park. One child threw a stone at us which hit the rear window. Conscientious Awaco, now having figured out how to open the car door, was almost out of the car before I had a chance to stop. Off he ran, nimble as a mountain goat, after the children, returning with the offending boy. But we did not know what we were supposed to do with him. Awaco did indicate that we could tie his hands together and take him with us! Not sure that was such a good idea, so after some finger wagging and stern looks we sent him on his way. Once in the park the flora changed from pastoral agricultural land with barley crops and grazing to a more alpine belt with arboreal heathers and hypericum. The heathers were wonderful, hanging with thick lichen (remember Gavin’s “beard” at Ohau, Mum?). Higher up the only vegetation was the giant lobelia. We saw many raptors gliding and diving and the Gelada baboons were not at all shy and great fun to observe. They seem to spend the whole day sitting in the sun feeding by tearing up the grass and preening each other. The odd male will also act as the urge takes him to make marital relations with a chosen female- as I said, they are not shy.

That afternoon we decided to test our fitness at altitude by climbing the hill behind the campsite. For the first half hour we were huffing and puffing, but taking it very slowly. Then quite suddenly we felt so much better, first Gavin and then myself. Our breathing was much easier, my legs did not feel so heavy and I had more energy. We made it to the top quite easily and were at about 4000 metres. Certainly the highest I have ever been. Needless to say storm clouds were gathering and the view was not so great.

On the way down we came across a group of shepherd boys clustered around a very smoky turf fire and looking rather bedraggled as they huddled under their blankets. They were toasting barley which was delicious.

Closer to the camp it started to rain and by the time we were back at the car it was hailing and becoming very cold. We quickly erected the awning and had a brew. As night fell it got colder and colder. Overnight it was 2 degrees Celsius in the tent. Considering that the coolest temperature we had experienced in months was 25 degrees and that was only just before sunrise, we were really feeling the cold. We were really glad for our Swandris.

Up with the sun in the morning we saw Walia Ibex which are quite majestic and spent more time watching the baboons. The young were hilarious as they cart wheeled up and down vertical rock faces. As the sun melted the frost the Park was seething with life. Everywhere we looked there were insects, birds and mammals scurrying along. After breaking camp we drove up the Bawhit pass, recording 4300m altitude on the GPS. I think that is the highest the car is ever going to reach in its life- imagine driving higher than Mount Cook. Amazingly enough, just past the top of the pass were four men, just sitting by the side of the road.

Then it was back to Debark to drop off Awaco. On the way another child threw his stick at us. Gavin stopped and reversed but the child was off. Again Awaco made chase. This time he returned with a few boys but not the naughty one. He wrote down their names and proudly retrieved the felonious stick as evidence, which he indicated he was going to make a report about. Now when we see a child with a mischievous glint in their eye and something hidden in their hand we just drive straight towards them and they scarper pretty quickly. This missile throwing behaviour is not so bad for us so far, but we have heard of some Overlanders with dents in their cars. For motorbikers and cyclists it is a real hazard.

In Gondar we visited the Berhan Selassie Church where we were introduced to the Ethiopian Orthodox style of church decoration, quite vibrant and unique. After stocking up on a few groceries and filling our various tanks we continued south. Expecting more slow and rocky roads we anticipated a long drive to Bahir Dar. What a pleasant surprise, it was tar seal all the way and the journey was only a few hours. We camped in the grounds of the Ghion hotel right on Lake Tana with its wonderful bird life and plantations of coffee and banana. Lake Tana is also the source of the Blue Nile (although it still looks brown to me). Gavin has been stocking up on meat (lately he has been obliged to become almost vegetarian) and we have enjoyed a few beers with other overlanders around the fire soaking up the mild tropical atmosphere.

We plan to visit some of the Coptic Monasteries on the many islands of Lake Tana and the Blue Nile Falls. Then we have to decide whether to tackle the rocky slow roads and cross over to Lalibela or just head straight towards Addis Abiba. Michelin have so far been rather useless in locating a tyre dealer for us and a couple of the tyres do look as if they are about to fall to bits, but I will not say anything about holes in rubber because I really do not want to tempt fate.

2007-11-27T21:46:00.000Z

Happy birthday Averil! Hope you had a good day. We're safe and sound in Kenya. Poor comms - previous message from a week ago. Hopefully can update in Nairobi.

2007-11-27T21:45:00.000Z

Lalibela fantastic, very bad roads. After 3 days in Addis Ababa have parts tyres and visa - now ready for Kenya via Omo Valley. Unable to access blog here!

2007-11-13T06:43:00.000Z

Spectacular! A week in Ethiopia. All well. Have new entry ready to post but limited internet! Hopefully can post in Addis Ababa in a few days time.

Going Solo

2007-11-04T11:07:00.000Z

With the Dutch contingent safely on their way to Ethiopia, and the French back at the campsite after a few days at the hospital, Catkin and I headed north to see the narrow pyramids of the Royal Necropolis of Meroe. It was quite strange at first to be back on our own again, having to find our own way after spending most of the last few weeks following the Land Cruiser of Louis the Dutchman.

We had first heard about the Meroe pyramids on BBC radio programme ‘Excess Baggage’, and seeing as we were passing through Sudan, thought it would be rude not to visit. Although much smaller than the more famous pyramids at Giza, the setting is far more atmospheric. These really are out in the desert, windswept with drifting sand, and not a tour bus or Russian tourist in sight. We camped that night in the area behind the pyramids, and by the morning we were also slightly windswept and covered in a light coating of drifting sand.

While we were there, a man on a heavily laden little donkey came over to see us. He told us he had a ‘supermarket’ and started listing what he had for sale. In reality he had more of a ‘little souvenir shop’ so we politely explained that we were not interested in buying anything. He continued his sales pitch, and despite her new found hard-nosed resolve to refuse to purchase anything when hassled, I could sense Catkin beginning to weaken toward this chap, who, she thought, was obviously just working hard to make a living. He completely blew it, however, when he whipped his mobile phone out of his pocket and asked if he could plug it in to our car to charge it. We waved him away, and he trundled off into the sunset.

Coming back from Meroe we took an excursion to have a look at two temples, Musawwarat and Nagaa. We didn’t know anything about them, but they were marked on our map and we felt like some more desert track driving. Permission is required to visit the sites, and this can be arranged at the entrance, but the US$10 per person price tag to see a pile of stones with little or no explanation was a little steep for us. We did have a good drive though, and even managed to get stuck in the sand briefly, so the big shovel got its first use (we have another small folding shovel for other more delicate “desert operations”, if you know what I mean). We did manage to drive out, and eventually made it back to Khartoum.

In Khartoum we have visited a big supermarket, but it turned out to be a big disappointment. We had been anticipating stocking up on a few of the harder to get items on our shopping list, but although there was lots of shelf space there wasn’t actually much there, and what there was is very expensive. A 1kg box of Kellog’s cornflakes was US$12.50! On our first visit, the Dutch Boys noticed how Catkin’s face lit up when she saw the shelves of cornflakes, and how disappointed she was that they were too expensive for us to justify buying. They decided to buy a box for us all to share for the few days that we were together, which was very kind of them. The carpark is always full of big white four wheel drives with various UN and aid agency logos on the doors, so I guess that explains the high price tags. Back to the local markets for us…

We are staying at the Khartoum National Camping Residence, which is a big complex with lots of dormitory rooms, bathroom facilities and an athletics track. At the moment there is a large group of students and teachers from all over Sudan staying for a two week English camp, so we have had lots of people coming to practise their English with us.

Yesterday, Bernard and Maria, a German couple who we first met in Aqaba, also arrived at the campsite. It has been interesting to catch up with them, compare experiences and find out how their journey has gone since we last saw them about six weeks ago.

The National Camping Residence is at 15º 31’ 13” N, 032º 34’ 22” E. Sunrise for us at present is at about 0645hrs, and sunset at about 1820hrs. The temperature during the day is typically around 35ºC-40ºC, and it hasn’t been dropping much below 30ºC overnight, although last night was much cooler. When we are on the road, we tend to get up early enough so that we can be on the road at sunrise, when it is still relatively cool. We try to stop at least an hour or two before sunset to allow some time to do our daily chores, relax with a cold drink etc. Of course, we stop during the day for breaks as well.
We have travelled 21870km since leaving London. Yesterday we carried out our third oil and filter change of the trip. We are changing the oil every 5000 kilometres at present, to combat the effects of the poor quality diesel available. Also yesterday, we had another puncture, bringing our total for the trip to 11 so far. The Hi-Lift jack is now mounted on the roof rack so that we don’t have to unpack the car every time we need to change a tyre. We are still searching for a new tyre to match our barely used spare, but still no joy. We are hoping for luck in Addis Ababa, where perhaps mud tyres might be more common. I have even asked Michelin to tell me where I can buy their tyres on our route, but so far they have not responded!

We plan to depart Khartoum tomorrow, spending another night in Sudan before crossing to Ethiopia. Although we’ve been told that Islam is gaining popularity, the main religion in Ethiopia is Christianity. We will be looking for a Bible so we can read up on the events associated with the places we have been to in the last few months, and we are looking forward to being able to buy beer again!

Once again, we’re not sure if we will be able to make contact until we reach Addis Ababa, so if you don’t hear from us for a while, don’t panic!

Never smile at a crocodile

2007-10-31T15:23:00.000Z

Hoorah, we have left those all so honest traders (!) of stinky and dirty Egypt far behind. I am convinced that there is a national conspiracy in Egypt for overcharging foreigners. For example, ask an Egyptian how much they pay for bread- 5 piastres they reply. However, when I go to buy, the price is suddenly 50 piastres per bread or even one pound. It is impossible for me to buy at the same prices as locals. It appears that many vendors would rather watch their bread grow mould or vegetables compost before selling at a reasonable price. Gavin said it was quite funny to watch me shop for groceries. Inevitably at some point I ended up just dumping the bags of groceries on the counter and leaving after they have quoted ridiculous prices and I had no desire to haggle over the price of every single egg and tomato.

Our final day in Aswan did slightly redeem Egypt. After returning from the port we made our way over to Elephantine Island. Again, needless to say the ferryman attempted to overcharge us by 400%. We just gave him the money we knew to be correct and walked off, with him shouting after us. Elephantine Island as been inhabited by the Nubians for generations and generations and although it was only 100metres or so from Aswan it was completely different. The children left us alone, felucca captains did not follow us down the street. It was a herding village with people getting on with their lives. It was cleaner and more organised than Egyptian towns and the Nubians appeared to have alot of pride. The excursion was very refreshing.

Egypt is an incredible place. It has been receiving tourists for 2000 years so I do not think that the approach to tourism is going to change soon. The country has so much to offer. The amazing diving and snorkelling in the Red Sea, The Pyramids, Tombs, Temples and the Nile, but it exhausted me and it just felt that the people were always grabbing at us and I never knew who to trust. So you may have gathered, I was glad to leave.

On the day of ourLake Nasser cruise we arrived at the port bright and early, as we had been requested. At 11am there was no sign of the vehicles being loaded so I went ahead onto the ferry to secure a shady area for our gang. Lunchtime came and went, on a few occasions my marked territory was invaded and in usual style I made it quite clear that the area was reserved. It was interesting watching all the cargo being loaded in a most inefficient and incompetent way. One fridge was dropped and everyone just shrugged their shoulders, another box fell off the quay, again shrugs all round. At one point a tower with lights on it fell off another barge into the water and was rammed into the quayside- more shrugs and arguments ensued. Sunset approached and finally the vehicles were loaded on the barge which does not even travel with the ferry. The ferry had been waiting for the drivers to load the vehicles so we were off immediately. Eventually Gavin and the rest remainders of the gang managed to climb over everyone else to our area. Finally I felt vindicated for reserving such a large area as we all tried to squash into the area. However I did find the other passengers very respectful. Many of them were young Egyptian men travelling to Khartoum for work. Only men were on the deck and women and children were below deck, in what looked like a cattle transporter. The Frenchies had decided to travel first class. After shooing a few sleeping bodies out of their cabin when they arrived and cleaning up the rat poo they could enjoy the air conditioning. Also, we were permitted to use the first class facilities. While they looked cleanish, the stench put hairs on your chest and one wonders what the second class facilities were like.

We eventually started to settle down for the night to find everything was getting wet. An air conditioning pipe was leaking fairly foul water. Interestingly when we tried to do something about it, such as ask for a bowl to collect the water we were told “the water is not a problem”. So, in true annoying British tourist style I asked to be shown the kitchen where I would locate for myself a suitable vessel to collect the water. Finally a bowl was found. Interestingly the next morning some of our Egytpian neighbours also helped with emptying the water and when we erected a sunshade, again our neighbours followed suit. I like to think that we managed to create a little community spirit which seemed to be so lacking in Egypt.

Early in the morning close to the Sudanese border we passed Abu Simbel, a wonderful view from the lake. Within a few hours we arrived at Wadi Halfa, after a rather strange immigration procedure we made our way off the boat. At one point it was so crowded and everyone was so much taller than me I felt myself being picked up by someone around the waist and physically pushed through the crowd it was so tight, thank you that man.

Wadi Halfa used to be an old Nubian city which now lies beneath the water. Now it is a collection of fairly tatty buildings and feels like the end of the world. We stayed in the best hotel in town! Apart from the odd person asking us if we wanted to change money there was no one hassling us for a felucca ride, for a taxi, for this for that, ahhhh we could relax a bit. There is still quite a bit of tension between the Egyptians and the Sudanese and by the next day many of the Egyptians still had not received their passports back, and when they did they had to pay a small fee. There are a few occasions that as foreigners or westerners we do seem to receive different treatment to locals- but it is not always clear that we do have it easier in some ways.

The next day the barge arrived and after a few hours of sitting around the vehicles were released and we all planned to make an early departure the next morning.

Up with the sun we made an interesting convoy, four motorbikes, one Toyota and two Landrovers (one with a campervan body). All of us were travelling at slightly different speeds. The bikes can speed off into the distance but have to stop more frequently for breaks and had to wait for us eventually because we were carrying the bags of three bikes and some of their fuel. We are not a "support vehicle for nothing". That day we travelled mainly though hilly desert with some short sections of tarmac, a new road is being constructed. We passed through one town of about 5 houses but there was not really anything there to sustain a living and after driving about 150km for the day we made camp.

The following day we hit the Nile passing through many Nubian villages with beautifully decorated homes. I sometimes caught a glimpse inside a compound gate to very neat yards with flowers growing and beds in the shade. People were busy working in their cultivated plots. We saw very few other vehicles and the locals always seemed happy to see us. That night we camped right by the Nile and amazingly the mosquitoes were not horrendous. One of the Dutch Boys was brave enough to risk Bilharzia and the crocodiles, taking a quick dip. They do get pretty grimy and dusty on the bikes so I can understand wanting to have a quick wash. Being in our luxurious car we can spare a litre or so of water in the evening for washing.

Our saga of punctures continues and yet again Gavin had to fix a tyre. One of the Dutch boys has been really amazed by Gavin's "manliness, he is always doing such manly things" (said with a deep dutch accent). Although we are making quite slow progress, being so many vehicles, it has been fun travelling with everyone. We are all travelling for different reasons which is interesting because we all see and observe different things, also we are not in a hurry. Louis has made the journey many times before and knows some good spots. The bikes are limited by what they can carry, there has not been much opportunity to buy fuel and all the water comes from the Nile which takes forever to filter because it is so brown.

Evidence of the recent flooding in central Africa was apparent but this was not a problem for us. The bird life is becoming quite interesting, hoopoes, rollers and larks to name a few. One crocodile was spotted by the group and quite a few Nubian homes proudly displayed crocodile skulls on their gate posts.

The following day our merry bunch started to divide. Two of the bikes decided to push on after we decided to stop by the 2nd Cataract, where there are some more ancient Egyptian heiroglyphic rock carvings. There were still a few hours of light left but it was a good place to stop and the going had been quite heavy. So off went the English and South African bikers. We hoped that they would be OK because only the previous day one of them had been suffering with dehydration and was falling off ever such a lot. Also we had been carrying one of their very heavy bags which they would have to carry now making the riding on rough terrain more difficult.

We had a lovely evening. There was a wedding in the local village. I was not sure what all the singing and drum beating was for do I went over and soon I was enveloped by a group of women in their brightly coloured wraps, beating their drums and dancing. Then the men appeared and one even had a video camera. I eventually extricated myself. Later a local lad appeared with what we think was some sort of perch, we agreed a price. It was very fresh and big. I took the tail half, attempted to fillet and fried in flour flavoured with cumin, JF took the head half and steamed it with coriander and cloves. I provided noodles with courgette and JF provided rice with mayonnaise. There was plenty for everyone and we had a feast.

In the morning we were up again with the sun and in the next town we found a fuel station, better than the fuel out of drumspreviously available. There was also clean looking water from a tap. So while the Dutch Boys re-fuelled (we still had plenty of diesel), we filtered more drinking water, this time not having to clean the filter every 5 litres. We then made our way to the ferry to cross to the West bank.

On the other side the road was much improved, not nearly as many corrugations and flatter. I think the bikers were much relieved by such improvements however I admit a sense of disappointment. In a few years there will be a tar seal road all the way to Wadi Halfa. I enjoy the slow roads, the driving is more fun and you see so much more. Also life along the Nile will change very quickly. Yes, infrastructure is progress but people living in these villages seem to have an organised way of life already.

By lunchtime we reached Dongola, a bustling city. That means it had shops, pharmacies, an hotel and a hospital. We shopped for some groceries while the Frenchies took their son to the hospital. When we caught up with them they were deliberating what to do. The doctor wanted to keep him in for 24 hours for observation but had barely done any tests, when JF asked about the tests I had suggested the Doctor had apparently said they would not really show anything- I think it is because they did not have any of those facilities. They decided to carry on to Khartoum to see a doctor there. A good thing they did because the following day he had his appendix removed.

We also headed south to Khartoum, but more slowly camping behind a sand dune. Khartoum is awash with white shiny 4x4 United Nations and NGO vehicles- UNICEF, Save the Children, MSF, World Food Programme to name but a few. The driving is far more civilised than anything we experienced in Egypt and the people are very friendly. More time for personal administration and yesterday we applied for Ethiopian Visas. We had been informed of the hoops to jump through, such a letter of recommendation from own embassy (I was not going to do that again) proof of onward travel etc. The Ethiopian Embassy is the friendliest I have been to. They were apologetic at having to look into my bag, apologised for keeping us waiting etc. At 3pm we returned to collect our passports with visas. All we had to provide was two passport photos, they even photocopied our carnet for us. Also it cost less than we had expected.

We are camped in the National Camping Residence of Sudan which also seems to provide accomodation for groups of Ethiopian refugees in transit. In the evenings hundreds of frogs, some the size of a halfpenny entertain us by jumping in the artificial light. Tomorrow it looks like our gang, which intially formed way back in Luxor, will be disbanding. The Dutch boys and Louis head towards Ethiopia and we head back north for a bit to the Meroe pyramids, before heading towards Ethiopia ourselves. The Frenchies are staying Khartoum for a while. Their eldest son needs to recuperate and has correspondance school work to catch up on.

2007-10-28T06:46:00.000Z

Camel arrived safe & sound. 3 days tough driving in desert & along Nile, hard going for bikers. 3 cars, 4 bikes in convoy. All well, dust everywhere!

2007-10-23T20:51:00.000+01:00

Wadi Halfa, Sudan.
Arrived today after overnight sailing.
Waited all yesterday to load vehicles - hopefully they arrive on the barge tomorrow. All well.

Going nowhere, slowly

2007-10-19T15:34:00.000+01:00

Well, here we are, STILL in Egypt. Our planned voyage along Lake Nasser from Aswan in Egypt to Wadi Halfa in Sudan has been delayed by a week due to circumstances beyond our control.

After spending four days at the Rezeiky Camp in Luxor, relaxing in the shade, swimming in the pool and catching up with maintenance on the Land Rover, we bade our farewells and headed south. Only for a few kilometres though, as we were soon stopped at the police checkpoint. All tourists travelling to Aswan have to travel in one of three daily convoys, with police escorts front and rear. We were travelling with another overlander, Louis the Dutchman, who had also been staying at the camp in Luxor. He is a seasoned expert, as he travels through Egypt every year to spend a few months in Africa. He had hoped that our two vehicles might be able to travel on our own, but the police were having none of it. Louis is quite forthright, and has no hesitation in telling the police what he thinks of their stupid rules, half in Dutch, half in English.

Unfortunately, when pulling to the side of the road at the checkpoint, our left rear tyre had an altercation with the checkpoint’s set of roadspikes that they had conveniently hidden behind a barrier. Luckily none went fully into the tyre, but we still got another puncture from it. Much to my joy I got more practise at removing the tyre and mending the puncture. Luckily the tyre is still useable, because it is one of our best.

We finally did get going in convoy, but that only lasted about five minutes of the 220km journey. The bus and two vans took off at high speed with the lead police vehicle, never to be seen again, while Louis and ourselves trundled along at our usual 80km/h, despite the tail car urging us to step on it. Catkin had been looking forward to the “convoy”, and even had the song of the same name playing on the ipod, but the end result was a bit disappointing.

Louis pointed out all the important places in Aswan on arrival, and we then headed out of town and across the Nile to spend the night in the desert. Next day (Sunday) it was off to the Nile Navigation Co office to book tickets for the ferry. Outside, we met Louis, along with two Dutch motorcyclists Luuk and Guido, who had also been staying at Rezeiky Camp in Luxor while we were there. They had already been into the office, and told us that the company won’t sell the tickets until all traffic police formalities have been finalised. So, off to the first traffic police office we all drive (a better convoy this time), but because of the Eid-El-Fitr holiday for the end of Ramadan it’s closed until Tuesday. We decide to try the second Traffic Police office on the off-chance that it might be open, but it’s not. The news is all bad. The ferry will leave on Monday as scheduled (a miracle in itself), but we won’t be on it (typical). So now we’re spending a week in and around Aswan.

The day before we left Luxor, our new friends from France, JF and family, caught up to us again, so it was good to see them and hear where they had been since our brief reunion in Cairo. Of course, we touched on the subject of the rugby, but only briefly. They also very kindly took us out for dinner in Luxor that night. It looks like they might catch up to us again now!

On Tuesday we managed to satisfy all the necessary traffic police requirements and handed back our temporary number plates and driver’s licence. We have booked 2nd class passage on the ferry for ourselves and a space on the barge for the Camel (cars travel separately and take an extra day). We head back to the Nile Navigation Office tomorrow (Sunday) at 9am to complete ticketing and hand over the cash (about 3000 Egyptian Pounds all up), before driving to the harbour to pass through customs and load the vehicles on the barge. We then have one more night in Aswan before the ferry leaves on Monday. The journey is overnight, passing the great temple of Abu Simbel on the way, and we should arrive in Wadi Halfa on Tuesday morning. The car probably won’t get there until Wednesday, and then might take a day or two to unload and get through Sudanese Customs…

After spending most of the last week camping out of town in the desert, we are again treating ourselves, spending our last three nights on land in Egypt in an hotel. We have a nice little room next to Louis, Luuk and Guido’s rooms, and it’s been good to get properly clean, do some washing etc. The hotel has a restaurant, but they only serve soft drinks and eggs (either boiled or omelette, for breakfast), so last night Catkin cooked a delicious meal of pasta, aubergine and sausage out on our tiny balcony.

We have a pretty good view of the Nile from the balcony, too, where we can watch the feluccas run up and down the river.

By the time we reach Sudan, it will have taken two full months to travel through Syria, Jordan and Egypt, which by my reckoning is about twice as long as it needed. It feels a bit like we have been getting nowhere. Hopefully things will pick up from here. During our ferry trip we will cross the Tropic of Cancer, and from there it’s only another 23½ degrees of latitude until the Equator! As of today, we have been on the road for 118 days.

And no, no Massey Fergusons sighted in Egypt.

The BEF

2007-10-12T13:37:00.000+01:00

After four nights in the desert we descended off a very barren limestone plateau towards the Nile Valley. Suddenly I saw tress in the distance through the haze to be followed by the lush cultivated fields flanking the Nile a few kilometres on either bank. The contrast with the desert was quite stark. After spending the afternoon relaxing and attending to “personal administration” (laundry, repairing kit etc) in the shady Rezeiky Campsite in Luxor, we asked about hiring bikes for the following day. An hour later two bikes or, as Gavin would describe them, lumps of junk arrived. We enquired after the price but the man who brought them had to rush off again apparently. I think he was rushing home for breakfast. Later the campsite manager informed us of the price of which I think the majority was his commission.

The price was OK so the next day we were up with the birds to cross the Nile on the ferry to the west bank to explore the ancient tombs. We finally figured out the rather complicated system for tickets and decided to visit one of the Tombs of the Nobles, but first we headed up the hill to the Valley of the Kings. Despite a dog almost taking a chunk out of Gavin’s calf we made it one piece to the gate where the police told we must leave the bikes. When we returned they had, very considerately moved bikes into the shade for us!! They did not look impressed when we rode off without giving bakshish for such a thoughtful act.

Getting back to the Valley of the Kings, the tomb of Tutankamon is the most intact of all the tombs. That means that none of the treasures were taken by the locals to be melted down or burned and there was no roman graffiti and the like. However, not only did we have to pay the entrance fee for the valley but also pay even more again for this one tomb, so we gave it a miss. We were more than happy with the three tombs we visited. Each tomb was very different to the next one. The exquisite carving and painting was the common theme. To enter one tomb we climbed up a ladder and then descended to quite deep through a number of different corridors- it was very hot and humid inside. We did ask ourselves whether the humidity caused by all these bodied huffing and puffing up and down the steps was damaging the paintings and plaster.

Of course we were back in “Tourists Ville” and even when visiting the tombs the whole tour group seems to stick together. In one tomb we were patiently waiting at the entrance to the tomb room for a group to enter so that we could leave via the network of corridors. After we finally made it out we realised that by the time the whole group had entered the tomb the same group was already starting to leave and we had ended up waiting for the whole group to arrive and leave before we made our own escape. Another tomb, higher in the valley had far fewer visitors and we even had it to ourselves for a short spell. There were beautiful carvings flanking the entrance and although it was not a large tomb with many corridors we looked straight down to the large stone tomb of Sethi II. I think King Sethi died quite a bit prematurely because some of the artwork appeared to be completed in quite a hurry and some of the walls just had the outline traced out. The local “hangers on,” who obviously do not have to pay an entrance fee each day, were making a nuisance of themselves in the tombs; ready to point out something of interest with their torch or offering to take a forbidden photograph.

Next we squeaked, rattled and wobbled our way down to the Tombs of the Nobles. The absence of any information telling you where you might find the group of tombs, let alone the specific tomb we had paid to enter turned this part of our excursion into an orienteering trip. One lad offered to how us the way for far too much money which we declined, his final words were “you will never find it” and indicated that we were looking in the wrong direction (which we were not and were actually quite close). We certainly found lots of tombs but they were all blocked off and there was no one around.

Eventually another chap found us and took us the long way round, we had been very close- a matter of metres, and even when we arrived there was nothing to indicate in any language or communication method that this was the tomb. Another chap awoke from his slumber and produced the keys to let us in. As he was hurrying me down the steps, Gavin was left behind with our original helpful local with no money for bakshish, oh dear. Here we viewed two tombs much smaller than the kings tombs but absolutely delightful. Our two guides also helped us solve a conundrum. We had been wondering how the original Egyptian artisans illuminated the tombs because any kind of candle or lamp would have left a sooty residue on their beautiful work. In these tombs the light was not very good so using a couple of pieces of cardboard covered in foil the guides reflected sunlight into the tombs, just as the ancient Egyptians did. Needless to say we did reward for their hard work, and again needless to say they wanted more. Whatever you give it is never enough!

On the way home a tour bus driver had some trouble understanding why I could not see him indicating he was turning left when he then proceeded to overtake and turn left through me. I did try to explain that both my eyes are in the front of my head rather than in the back, but I am not sure if such a detailed anatomical description was too complicated for him.

The next day we visited the extremely impressive Temples of Karnak, less than half a kilometre from our campsite. We left an hour so later than we had intended after chatting to a Dutch couple in a 1986 Series 3 Land rover who had travelled up from the direction we are travelling in. So we got lots of tips and heard about all the things that had gone wrong with their car.

S0, the Temples of Karnak, a huge complex, yet the main entrance seemed to be through a hole in the fence.

Again, quite understandably there were many, many tour groups and the inevitable “hangers on”/ “guides” just waiting in the wings to show you something which, if you are walking around with you eyes open you will see, just so they can demand bakshish. Gavin, such a polite boy, would patiently explain to them that they may as well go away because they will not be getting any bakshish from us. I just ignored them. I have had enough of them interrupting our conversation, standing in the middle of my path so I have to stop etc.I realise that there is the argument that they are only trying to make money. It is however counter-productive as far as we are concerned. For example, the idea of going into a shop selling souvenirs (some of which are quite interesting) is totally abhorrent to me and the hassle technique does not appear to work so well with other people either. Also the touts are SO irritating it just makes you want to leave the area, otherwise we might stop for a drink etc.We have been thinking about setting up the "Bakshish Eradication Front" (BEF), using passive resistance methods to make our stand. Let us know if anyone is interested in joining?

We have been whiling a way the time a bit in Luxor because the ferry to Wadi Halfa in Sudan does not leave until Monday and the campsite here is good. In that time we have developed another flat tyre- the same tyre that has had punctures on three or four different occasions so far. We do need a new tyre but the tyres available in North Africa are not suitable for the rest of the journey so we are trying to hold out until we are further south. So Gavin has become quite expert now at getting the tyre off and mending the tube. Naturally, I have also become expert in advising and supporting. I just hope I never have to do it on my own.

Why do we enjoy the desert so much? Amongst many reasons is that it is beautiful and peaceful. Given the number of mosques on the towns and cities it is inevitable that when staying in a campsite we are not that far from one. This is fine, some are really quite lovely, until 4am in the morning when the Call of the Faithful to Prayer seems to take longer and longer as the end of Ramadan has approached. Yesterday I am sure it lasted for more than 40 minutes. I just wish that it was not quite so loud. Ramadan is now finished which means that we do not feel quite as bad when we eat or drink in public.

Tomorrow we head south to Aswan in a tourist convoy and prepare to spend an extortionate amount of money to use the ferry to Wadi Halfa. We have learned tat the convoys, mainly tour buses like to travel quite fast at about 120km/hr, we travel at a maximum speed of around 85 km/hr. So I suspect we shall annoy a few more bus drivers. We have already decided that when we get back to New Zealand we will be shouting at each other to communicate normally because we are so used to shouting over the noise of the engine. If we go any faster we might become permanently deaf.

It is quite likely that it will be quite a while before we post any more entries because once in Sudan it can take a while to retake possession of the car (potentially days) and then there is only desert for a few days until Khartoum.

Walk like an Egyptian

2007-10-07T12:41:00.000+01:00

Everything seems to happen slowly in Egypt, especially during Ramadan. We have now been in the country for over two weeks but have really only just made it out of Cairo. Admittedly, our first week was spent lounging around the Sinai Peninsula, as Catkin described earlier, but our "quick trip" to Cairo to get visas spare parts and see the pyramids took the best part of the second week. It seems that no matter what you plan, it really is only possible to one thing per day. If you tell anyone what you have got planned for the afternoon they will without fail tell you that it will be too late, and that you must go in the morning instead. Anyway, after extending our stay for another two days we have managed to do all we set out to.

The pyramids were pretty awesome. It’s hard to comprehend their sheer size until you are standing there next to them. The whole day was a bit of an adventure in the end. We decided to go by public transport, and took the Metro to Giza Station. Whilst waiting to cross to road to the bus stop, a local struck up conversation with us, and, as luck would have it he was taking the same bus and would show us the way. Once on the bus, which involved running out to it across two lanes of traffic and jumping on as it slowed down slightly, he confided in us, saying that the tickets at the main entrance to the pyramids were very expensive, but there was an "Egyptian" entrance which was cheaper, easier, included everything, and entailed taking a camel or horse ride into the pyramids area. Catkin laughed her head off when he told us that his name was Omar Sharif, but he didn’t seem to see it as a joke, and I think that might really have been his name after all. After getting off the bus, he insisted on showing us to the entrance, and before we knew it we were sitting astride horses and bargaining on the price and how far we would be taken. Every time a price was offered our friend Omar would be in the background nodding his head vigorously, indicating what a good price we were getting. Obviously he was watching his commission decrease each time the price went down. We still have no idea whether we were ripped off or not, suffice to say that the final agreed price was a quarter of what was initially asked. In a land where a fixed price on anything is the exception rather than the rule and bargaining is a way of life, we have taken the view that there is no such thing as being ripped off - there is either a mutually agreed price or no sale, and if you pay too much it is your own fault!

The traffic in Cairo is something else, and possibly the worst we have driven in. Half the locals seem to be practising for competing in the touring car championship, with bumper to bumper driving and last minute overtaking manoeuvres, while the rest seem to have no concept of road safety, stopping in the middle of three busy lanes to fix a broken light cover or turning left from the far right hand lane across lanes of traffic. Add to this the pedestrians-with-a-death-wish and it makes for happy times. We were even run into, and by a Land Rover Discovery of all vehicles! Luckily it was only a light tap and no damage was done (to us anyway – not sure about the Discovery).

We met up again with our French friends, who spent nearly a week longer in Aqaba after we left, waiting for their new Carnet. They had just arrived in Cairo after a few days in the Sinai, and were about to apply for visas for Sudan. We briefly touched on the subject of the forthcoming quarterfinal between France and the All Blacks. Jean-François delightedly exclaimed that he would be cheering for the All Blacks. I’d like to think that I had converted him, but it turns out he has a strong dislike for the French Coach, who it seems is tipped to be the next sports minister if France win the World Cup. Looks like he might have a chance…

At last, on Thursday, we left Cairo in our dust, after spending the whole day completing our remaining errands. First up we picked up some spare filters and parts from the Land Rover service centre in 10th of Ramadan City (40km east of Cairo). Next we had another puncture repaired, which involved a very animated discussion about the price – I think we are finally getting the hang of Egyptian bargaining now. The remainder of the day was taken up driving all over western Cairo trying to find the Carrefour supermarket so we could re-supply our food crates.

The Western Oases beckoned. Not very well signposted though… Luckily, while were staying at the hotel, I happened to read an article in a magazine about an archaeologist who is director of the Antiquities Department. His ideal long weekend was to be spent visiting the western oases and desert. In it he described the route taken out of Cairo and mentioned driving through 6th of October City (which isn’t on our map). Fortunately we saw a turn-off to this city which we took, and it has since turned out to be the right way. Otherwise we would have ended up a long way from our intended destination although we still would have made it to Luxor eventually.

We have had a night in each of the Black and White Deserts. These make up part of the Western Desert, which extends into Libya and is part of the mighty Sahara. The desert nights have been very peaceful, with clear skies full of stars, no one around for miles and a comfortable temperature. On the first morning in the desert I took the opportunity to do some work on the car, replacing some worn suspension bushes.

On Saturday we stopped early to tune into the BBC World Service Sports World programme which, thanks to the lack of any 8th division football from East Anglia, deigned to play the commentary of the last 12 minutes of the England vs Australia Quarter Final of the World Cup (bad news about the result, Gilly). So there we were, sitting in the Sahara listening to the rugby on a shortwave radio. It could only have been better if we had remembered to put beer in the fridge instead of Miranda Orange. Late last night though the trusty BBC brought me the bad news about the All Blacks exit. In between the static, I thought maybe I had misheard, so had to read for another hour until the next news bulletin. Unfortunately I had heard right the first time…

Finally, some news for tractor buffs. So far, Egypt has been the first country that we have been through on this trip where the noble Massey Ferguson tractor has not been sighted. They have been everywhere else in numbers, most notably in Turkey, but not yet here. We are still looking though.

Happy birthday Andrew,

2007-10-07T09:06:00.000+01:00

from us in the Sahara.
Hope you have now decided who to back to win
the World Cup!!
Love G&C