Sand dunes and leaks

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?

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.

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

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