New Websites

View my online video portfolio at www.africauncut.co.za

Visit my Vlog (video blog) at advlog.wordpress.com

OutThere Magizine Feature

Wow... been home now for almost as long as i was away and still trying to settle into the routine of "Normal" life.

For all those interested:

There is an Article about my trip and the ease of Motorcycle Travel in Africa in the latest issue (autumn) of OutThere Adventure Magizine (The OutThere Gear guide).

Videos Uploaded

I have uploaded the Charity films to YouTube so click on the following links if you are interested:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmRbpATh-V0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibyKT3pU670&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dk-CpWvJL4s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWslJRqhpX0

Homeward Bound

"A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it." George Moore.

After the dramas with the rear shock, things had not gotten off to the best start on our final leg of the journey. This leg would see us crossing into Botswana and riding down the eastern side of the country before returning home to South Africa. The mechanic that fixed the rear shock gave new meaning to the term “bush mechanic”. His workshop literally consisted of a pile of scrapped motorbikes and tools spread across his back yard. Nonetheless, he managed to take out my rear shock and fit it with a wide spacer that would hopefully make the suspension stiff enough to get me home.

The morning spent at the mechanic meant that we were off to a bit of a late start so we did not push too far on the first days ride. It was an hour down to the border and we were going to stay in Kisane just over the border. The border crossing, however, took longer than the sum total of time spent on the bike that day. We eventually got ourselves onto a pontoon and crossed the Zambezi River into Botswana. Upon entering Botswana one can immediately notice the relative wealth of the country. It has been one of the most successful African countries and since achieving democratic rule in 1966. This is mostly due to three of the world’s biggest diamond mines that are found within the country’s borders.

There are a number of campsites along the Chobe River not far from Kasane Town so we got some supplies from the well stocked Spar Supermarket and found a nice quiet little campsite at which to set up for the night. The next day involved a fairly straightforward ride down to Nata, Julia managed to get a lift in a double cab and I rode the 300km stretch solo in an effort to limit the strain on the rear shock. I encountered a couple lone elephant bulls along the way, one of which was just meters from the road and had me “on edge” as I skirted around the far side of the road. We regrouped in Nata before making camp at the Nata Safari Lodge, another campsite aimed at the many 4x4’ing enthusiasts frequenting Botswana for its rough roads and wild animals.

We decided we too should try and get to a game reserve seen as we were in Botswana and all. It is always tricky on a motorbike as the parks do not allow you in and our situation was made trickier as we could not tackle very rough roads with the failing shock. After some phone calls we decided to spend the next night in Karma Rhino Sanctuary as it had a tar road all the way to the gate and they would allow us to drive all the way to the camp on the bike. It was brilliant to camp in the real wild with animals roaming around us constantly and we were treated to a real show when a 2m Black Mamba attacked a chameleon in our campsite.

From Karma Rhino Sanctuary it was only 150km to the South African Border. I was filled with bitter-sweet emotions as I crossed the Limpopo River at the Martin’s Drift Border Post. It had been the most amazing experience and I had really enjoyed the diversity of the different African cultures but I was so looking forward to finally getting home and seeing my family that I felt it was time to return. I have not spent much time in the northern reaches of South Africa so things were not looking all that familiar just yet. We camped just outside Ellisras and went into town to enjoy some good South African food at the Keg and some “not so good” South African singing as it was karaoke evening.

We were planning to meet my family in Pilansberg Game Reserve for the weekend and still had a night to spare so we headed into the Waterberg Mountains along what was thankfully a very smooth dirt track. We Found a nice little private game reserve with affordable accommodation for the night. We only had 200km to cover on the final day so got off to a late start but Murphy’s Law ensured it would not be as straightforward as we could have hoped. The chain on the bike snapped just 10km from the Pilansberg gate. It was the controversial “magic link” that had given way after all these miles. Before leaving some people had told me not to put a magic link on the chain and some people had said you have to have a magic link. I had decided to go with a magic link and was carrying a normal spare link just in case this happened. I had been lucky up to now with my chain and all other mechanical concerns for that matter but now, 10km from the finish line, my luck had run out and to make things worse, the spare link was the wrong size and would not fit on my chain. With the help of some local mechanics I eventually managed to shorten the chain and get the bike running again but it was now extremely tight and I held my breath as I put it in gear and rode off.

The chain held out and I after 6 long months I finally got to see my family again and best of all; I got to meet my niece for the first time. We had a wonderful weekend relaxing at Kwa Maritane in the Pilansberg. For me, the ride back to Jo’burg was just a formality but it was nice to arrive back at the very spot I had departed from, I had gone full circle. The adventure had been everything I was hoping it would be and more.

Living it up in Livingstone

“I do not remember a morning in Africa, when I woke up and was not happy.” Earnest Hemingway

After some serious time on the road it has been fantastic to relax and take a little holiday within a holiday for a couple weeks in Livingston. We got into the swing of things pretty soon after our arrival, we met all the kayakers hanging about the place, some of whom had also been up at the Nile in Uganda and had now flown down to the Zambezi (the standard African kayaking package). We managed to get our hands on some gear and we were on the water on our second day here! For our first day we opted for the “easier” second half of the rapids in an effort to get into things gently but we were only fooling ourselves..... there is nothing gentle about any part of the Zambezi! The waves are huge, the holes are retentive and the lines are far tighter than the Nile! We spent a good deal of our first day upside-down but it was great fun none-the less! Bobbing down the mighty Zambezi gorge also provides for some amazing scenery and even a little wildlife with the occasional croc head making an appearance. If you are not completely knackered from fighting for the right to breath all day then the walk out the gorge at the end will ensure that you get a good night’s sleep.

For our next adventure, we chose to do a multi-day trip. We were offered a brilliant deal by the rafting company in order to fill the spaces on the planned trip. Our first day involved a full day on the boats. Julia opted to hop in the raft for most of it so that she could just enjoy the day without having to fear for her life the whole way down. In the late afternoon we pulled up onto a beach and set up camp for the night. The guides provided an astonishingly good meal after which we sat round the fire and marvelled at the incredible experience of camping aside the Zambezi with the steep gorge walls pointing up to a beautiful African night’s sky.

Day two was a little flatter and the gorge started to open out a bit. We let the slight current do most of the work as we snaked our way down the river at a gentle pace all morning before having lunch next to the thundering Moemba Falls. The hike out the gorge was not quite as gruelling as the guides had warned but still made us feel as though we deserved the iced cold drinks waiting for us at the top.

The next few days involved quite a bit of lounging round the pool at the ever popular Jollyboys Backpackers. We visited a Local Pre-school in a village near Livingstone where some amazing people are doing great work. The school is predominantly funded by a bicycle tour operation set up by a Zambian with incredible vision. “Cliff the Cowboy” as he is known (because of the big hat he sports), realised the need for a school within his community and didn’t let the absence of government funding stand in his way. He takes tourists on “safari” cycle tours around Livingston and ploughs the profits into this amazing community project. We took some footage of the project and put together a little video to try and help them get some extra funding from whoever may realise just what a worthwhile cause it is!

A highlight of our time in Livingston was an afternoon spent at the Royal Livingston Hotel mixing it up with the other half of the tourists here to see Victoria Falls. We enjoyed the most amazing spread of cakes and treats for high tea, sitting on the colonial style patio in high back lounge chairs. We then took a short walk through the beautiful gardens, along the water’s edge and ended it all off with sundowners. The orange glow over the river dispersed by the spray from the falls made for one of the most amazing sights of my time in Africa.

After almost two weeks in Livingston we were both feeling restless and getting ready to get back on the road. The bike is starting to feel the effects of the last 6 months on the road and needed a few things done. A small crack in the frame needed welding, a few spokes in the rear wheel had broken and the rear tyre was finally due for replacement. One cannot put a time frame on getting these seemingly small jobs done and it all took quite a bit longer than expected and a fair amount of negotiation.

Finally, after we thought we had the bike back into good running condition, we loaded it up and set off down the road.... 300m down the road before the rear shock let us know that it too, had had enough and didn’t fancy absorbing the bounces inflicted by two people and ALL their luggage anymore! We just happened to break down outside Faulty Towers, the other backpacker’s jaunt in Livingston, so we checked in here after what will definitely be the shortest day’s riding. I managed to find a bike mechanic who assured me it will be fixed by mid morning tomorrow so if, by some miracle, he sticks to his word we should be in Botswana tomorrow. Exactly where in Botswana... I do not know but adventure always lies within the Unknown.

Zipping through Zambia

“I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine.” Caskie Stinnett

Entering Zambia meant the arrival of better roads, more frequent shops and, of course, a change in the local language and customs. It also meant saying goodbye to Eastern Africa and some of the eastern niceties such as spiced masala tea and ginger flavoured coffee (tangaweezi). Roadside snacks changed from chapattis (fried flatbread) to scones. After living in “Eastern Africa” for the last 3 months I had started to get used to the people and food influenced by the Arabic culture but Zambia falls into the “Southern Africa” region and things started to look far more like home as soon as we crossed the border. The shops here are stocked full of South African products, the people are more similar to those in South Africa and even the road works are controlled by stop-go/ry signs.

Our first stop in Zambia was in Mpulungu, the land-locked county’s only port town on the southern reaches of Lake Tanganyika. We stayed at a little placed called Tanganyika Lodge, 5km out of town on a terrible road but situated in a beautiful setting on the water’s edge. The camp was almost full of swiss biologists who were doing research on a certain species of chiliad fish endemic to Lake Tanganyika. They would spend 4 to 5 hours a day underwater studying the behaviour patterns of these bottom dwellers. We considered staying on at this spot for a little longer but it was extremely isolated, with no electricity or shops around and after the wild west road we needed to try find internet and get in touch with the world again.

From Mpulungu, Julia caught the coach and I cruised solo for 440km down to a small junction town called Mpika. The newly surfaced road passed by effortlessly and we managed to arrive at more or less the same time, just as the sun was setting. Mpika would serve only as an overnight stop and in all honestly, I don’t think it has much more to offer the traveller. The next day was another long one and the infrequent bus schedule meant that we would tackle the 440km to Kipiri Moshi riding two up once again. This road offered little in the way of spectacular scenery and was more of a chore than anything else. To visit anywhere of interest along the great north road through central Zambia meant navigating away from the tarred surface for some distance and the failing rear shock had begun to rule out such options.

Kipiri Moshi was another brief stop before a quick morning’s ride down to Lusaka. We stopped just outside Kabwe for breakfast at the Fig Tree, a nice little coffee shop serving all the tastiest western delights and very good coffee! We arrived in Lusaka before lunch and made our way to Chachacha, the well known backpacker hangout in the capitol city. Lusaka gave us the chance to get what we needed from Game and Shoprite, two South African stores that are spreading like wildfire through Africa. We then retreated to the backpackers and into the welcoming pool to escape the scorching heat!

Oops Julia missed her flight. Julia had planned to fly out of Lusaka on the 15th of October but her commitments back home changed and so she decided to just keep going on the epic journey south. The last leg of the whirlwind tour of Zambia would be from Lusaka to Livingston. Julia boarded the luxury coach and I headed out on what would be the second longest day of my trip so far. To make things a little more interesting, southern Zambia was suffering from a fuel crisis and most petrol pumps in Lusaka had run dry . The few stations that had some fuel left had massive queues but with rumours of things getting worse down south, I had no option but to wait it out with the rest of Lusaka in order to get my hands on a few litres of the precious commodity. It was almost 500kms to Livingston and I didn’t quite think things through when I set out with no extra fuel and a range of about 450kms. After passing through town after town with lifeless petrol stations I realised I could have a slight problem on my hands. I have covered in excess of 14000kms already, though some of the most remote parts of South Eastern Africa and never really had to worry about the availability of fuel. Now, in one of the far more advanced African countries, I was in a spot of bother. Luckily there will always be an African with a cunning plan to make a quick buck and eventually I managed to find a guy who had been making trips down to Botswana to get fuel and was now selling it at more than double the normal price out of containers in the boot of his car behind the market in Choma. I bought enough fuel to get me to Livingston. At R20 a litre I was not about to fill up the tanks but at least I would not be stranded in the middle of nowhere.

I arrived in Livingston 20 minutes after Julia’s bus and met her at the ever popular Jollyboys Backpackers. It had been a mammoth day’s ride and the road works over the last 70kms leading into town had been cause for a slight sense of humour failure but Livingston meant that it was time for a bit of a holiday. The next few days would no doubt involve some extreme kayaking on the Zambezi, the obligatory sight-seeing at Victoria falls, a few nice rest days by the pool and good company with the hundreds of young backpackers passing through and kayakers hanging around.

The Wild West of Tanzania

“Exploring is delightful to look forward to and back upon, but it is not comfortable at the time unless it be of such an easy nature as not to deserve the name.” Thomas Euxbery

Chris:

Looking back at the wild west road trough Tanzania I will remember it as an adventure, with the enchanting parts taking precedence in my memory but there is no denying that there were tough times where all I wanted was for it to be over. There is only really one road linking north and south Tanzania on the western side of the country and this road takes the form of a windy dirt track in various states of disrepair.

We crossed the bridge over the impressive thundering Rusumu falls, which forms the boundary between Rwanda and Tanzania and had our Tanzanian stamps in our passports before we knew it. The Rusumu River not only forms the border between the countries but also the border between the steep green Rwandan hills and the more undulating bushveld of northern Tanzania. The road continued to be good tarmac all the way to our overnight stop in Lusahunga. This small trucker’s town had little to offer any kind of tourist. The constant stares were a sign that not many an mzungu stops off here. The dusty road was lined with trucks that had stopped over for the night and after the 5th guest house and still no free space we were beginning to get a little worried. Our self appointed Lusahunga tour guide had even given up on trying to find us a room but we eventually managed to find something in a very dingy little place. Rob and Polly had taken the wild west road up on their way to Rwanda and had said the guest houses usually have at least one of the three luxuries: electricity, water or mosquito nets. This guest house had none of the above. No surprises in the fact that we didn’t hang around long in Lusahunga. We arrived as it was getting dark and left first thing in the morning to begin the 1000kms of dirt road that lay ahead.

The first stretch consisted of roughly 250km of fairly good dirt road down to Kigoma, a bustling port town on the northern reaches of Lake Tanganyika. We broke up the trip into manageable sections of roughly 50km each between towns where we would dismount to give our bums a rest and cool down with a cold coke or two. The day before we had been stopped by a policeman at a roadblock and warned that there had been an attack on a passenger bus along this road by Burundian rebels just a week ago. He said it should be safe as they had now deployed quite a few troops to maintain safe passage along the road but it was definitely something that was playing in the back of our minds while we drove along the section no more than 10km from the Burundian border. We had been considering driving through Burundi en route to Lake Tanganyika as it would have been much shorter and quicker but after consulting numerous travel safety websites we took the advice they issued and went around. According to the websites the capital of Burundi, Bujumbura, was relatively safe by day but the roads through the country were still a little on the dodgy side. The last of the rebel armies was supposedly disarmed in April this year but the ambush on this very road the week before was testament that all is not well in this little country.

The last 50km into Kigoma provided for the first big challenge that the wild west road would throw at us. Road works were being carried out on this section and the temporary road that had been haphazardly engraved between the piles of earth and masses of construction works was in a pretty bad state! It did not help matters that the luggage rack on my bike had broken 10km before this all started and was now being held together with straps until I could get it welded again. We bounced along through a constant cloud of dust for 15km longer than the map had indicated but all was forgiven when we eventually arrived at an idyllic little camping spot just above a private little beach on Lake Tanganyiaka. This beautiful spot was the perfect place to spend a few nights recharging before continuing on what would undoubtedly be one of the toughest parts of the trip. Originally we had been planning to catch the ferry down the lake but got our days mixed up and ended up arriving an hour after the ferry had departed, the next departure would be in two weeks. We weren’t quite sure if we were going to be able to get the bike onto the ferry or if it was even running at present so we had thought there was a fairly good chance we would have to tackle the Wild West Road anyway.

I got quite sick quite suddenly whilst at our idyllic camp site and was man-down for 24hours. At one stage I was convinced that I had malaria but the rapid test said otherwise. My glands were badly swollen which probably meant that I had just been bitten by some or other insect. I used a full day in Kigoma to give the bike all the attention it required before it was put through some challenging times. The luggage racks needed quite a bit of welding and reinforcing so I spent some time doing at a welding workshop getting it all done. The welding and new stabilising bar they made for me took some time so I ended up leaving my bike at the make shift workshop and walking around the downtown auto parts shops looking for new mirrors, oil filter etc. Only after I returned to my bike did I realise that the welding workshop was an employment project for ex-prisoners. I had left them with all my tools, my helmet, jacket and even the keys to my bike. To my surprise, it was all still there and they had done a sterling job on the bike. They were an extremely friendly bunch of ex-cons, they seemed to take an extra bit of pride in the job on my bike (probably because I was their first and probably only Mzungu customer they will ever have) and didn’t try rip me off when it came time to pay, which is usually to be expected in Africa.

Jigs:

On our third day we packed up our camp and headed into the unknown once again. We planned about a 240km day. The road was meant to be unrideable in the rain... as we pulled out of Kigoma the grey sky opened. Fortunately it didn’t last long and the quality of the bad road would be preserved for a few more days...

This was one of our most challenging days, with ‘towns’ and thus petrol spread sparsely. The road went from brilliant dirt to corrugation, soft sand and fine dust. We took a few knocks and falls but made it in tacked to the planned stop over. This would be our first night of ‘wild camping’, next to a bubbling stream that carved through the bush. The Pommies had given us the GPS coordinates for this perfect place for weary travellers. Cooking on an open fire in the middle of nowhere, we were vulnerable to Mother Nature and the elements.

We were cooking pasta for dinner and Chris went off into the dark in search of some rocks to prop up the pot. “Jigs, I’ve been stung by a scorpion.” Chris called out surprisingly calmly. “What!” “Come here,” he said, as he was killing his attacker with his shoe still holding his finger where the scorpion had got him. His finger had a black sting in it, we tried to get as much poison out as possible and tied off all blood to his finger to buy us time to make some decisions. So, we were out of cell phone reception, it was dark, the roads were terrible and we didn’t know how poisonous the white scorpion was.... I couldn’t ride the loaded bike on these roads if things got messy. Hectic! Our only option seemed to be to sit it out and see what happens. Scary stuff! Other than numbness of the affected finger tip and a pain shooting up his arm at one stage, he was alright and has no residual symptoms.

Chris:

Wow that was a close call. The next day I woke up feeling absolutely fine, we loaded up the bike and got on our way fairly early. The day before had ended with about 70 challenging kilometres. The road was mainly soft sand, punctuated by the occasional bumpy hard gravel section. The rear suspension had been taking strain with the two of us on the bike and the entire luggage piled up high behind us. It had started to get worse and worse towards the end of the previous day so we decided to rather take it a bit easy and cover shorter sections each day so that we could travel slower in an effort to help the suspension. The road improved slightly that day, which allowed us to get to Mpanda, the district capital, in good time. We stopped at the market in the middle of the dusty town to stock up on a few supplies for the next stretch. After Mpanda the road improved dramatically and we sailed down to a small village called Sitalike on the fenceless border of Katavi National Park. It was only lunch time but we thought we had done enough for the day so set up camp in the Riverside Camp Site. Our tent was a mere 30meters from a pool in the river that was home to no less than 100 wallowing hippos. All that lay between us and the biggest killers in Africa was a rickety paddock fence with missing stiles here and there. We had a nice relaxing afternoon on the river bank, watching the hippos yarning the day away.

That night would prove to be another interesting one. Just before bed I had put an old plank across the nearest gap in the fence as we had been told that the hippos came out the water at night to graze. This was a good move. In the middle of the night we were awoken by the loud clank of the plank being knocked over. A hippo had tried to make tracks right through our camp. It had come within 5 meters of our tent but was frightened by the noise of the falling plank and scurried back to the water’s safety. We lay there a little tense for a while. Just as we were starting to dose off again we were suddenly roused by the calls of a Hyena... and the calls were getting closer and closer until eventually the Hyena walked right past our tent. So close that we could hear it breathing in a purring sort of manner as it strolled by. We lay there dead silent until long after it had gone, partly because the sequence of events in the last half hour had left us a little in shock.

The sun finally rose and we had survived yet another truly wild African night. It was a splendid day and a good one for travelling. The first 50km of that day’s ride took us straight through the Katavi National Park. We rode past herd after herd of buffalo and saw a fair amount of zebra and the occasional giraffe. We could not stop until we were well out of the park on the southern side as the tetsi flies were quite bad in that area and when we did try to stop we would find ourselves instantly swarmed by them. The road was bumpy at times but we just took it easy and slowly made our way along the 200km down to a town called Sumbawanga. There we found a very nice guest house with all three of the west Tanzanian luxuries and to put the icing on the cake... the water that FLOWED from the shower was HOT!!!!!! WOW!!!!!! It was the small things in life, which one usually takes for granted, that had begun to bring much happiness. The next day was our last in Tanzania and involved a short 100km ride down to a town called Mpulungu in Northern Zambia. The 100km took longer than the 200 we had done the day before as the road got worse and worse the further south we headed. The border was hassle free, there wasn’t even an immigration office on the Zambian side of the border gate so we were instructed to go and find immigration in the next town so that we could legally be stamped into the country. Seeing the first bit of tar in over a thousand kilometres was a marvellous site. The rear shock was close to finished by then and would not have handled another day on the dirt. Luckily it was tar from here on in.