A river runs through it

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

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

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!

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

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

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.

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.