Settling into life on the African Road

LEG 3: (as per Quad and offroad SA magizine article no. 3) The third month and third leg of the Africa Uncut Motorcycle Expedition journeys from Nkhata Bay in Malawi up to Zanzibar.

“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people you might better stay at home” James Michener

When travelling Africa on a bike, or by any other means, it is so important to try and immerse yourself in the local people and their culture to gain the most from the unique experience of crossing this Dark Continent we call home and yet know so little of. Each time I cross a border it amazes me to see the instant changes in religious allegiances, traditional attire, construction techniques and staple diets despite the identical landscapes and minimalistic income levels. One cannot help but wonder how these cultural divides came to be and how severe the differences on either side of borders were before colonisation transformed Africa. One thing is for certain, the cultural and traditional practices one experiences whilst travelling Africa make it a worthwhile journey, let alone the sheer beauty of the majestic landscapes.

After I said goodbye to my travelling companions, Dave and Paul, I decided to take a break from the frantic schedule of the previous five weeks and spend some time exploring Nkhata bay and the surrounds. Constantly being on the move results in one missing the comfort of familiarities. Spending a little time in one place, where there is time to make friends and learn about the working gears of a particular place’s inhabitants can provide a temporary safety blanket. Nkhata Bay is a brilliant little town situated about half way up the western shore of Lake Malawi and is very popular with backpacking travellers. The town centre bustles throughout the day and night, there are a few good restaurants and nice places to stay, all of which are right on the water’s edge and all poses some sort of appeal to the various shapes and sizes that pass through the town. I made camp at a place called Mayoka Village, one of the most popular places and understandably so as it really is a beautifully cosy little spot. I opened the tent each day to be greeted by perfectly blue skies and crystal clear shimmering water a couple meters from the door. I got to know quite a few of the locals and quite a few passersby that also seemed to have anchored themselves there to catch their breath whilst on lengthy trips.

I thought it best to use my time settled in one spot a bit constructively and completed a charity documentary for an orphan care project 50 km south of the town. It is a really pro-active project looking after orphans who have lost their parents mostly due to the devastating effects of HIV and AIDS. I spent a day visiting about eight different orphan care projects to get a feel of what they do and how they could benefit from a promotional documentary and the Mukundi Orphan Care Charity Based Organisation (CBO) stood out heaps above the rest. The project is run by volunteers and serves five surrounding villages. They look after about 65 orphans and the chiefs from the surrounding villages contribute food on a monthly rotation basis. They have a carpentry workshop and tailoring workshop where the kids are taught valuable skills that they can carry forward with them into adult life and the finished woodwork products and dresses etc are sold at markets to bring in money that subsidises the kids school fees, food and clothes. They also feed the children, using mainly vegetables grown in their own gardens and meat from their pig and chickens projects. I could not help but notice, during my day spent filming and getting to know the kids, that they are all so happy and full of hope despite their heartbreaking life stories. What also struck me was the incredible kindness of the 10 adult volunteers, who give of themselves so freely to help the orphans despite being so poor themselves. Their appreciation of my time and effort made the documentary more than worthwhile. They have various overseas contacts that have donated money to them in the past or have considered supporting their fantastic project but have been understandably apprehensive as it is so hard to assess whether the money will end up in the right hands and for the right reasons. Hopefully the documentary will dismiss any doubts regarding the project’s objectives and administration as they are truly doing a remarkable job.

I extended my Malawian visa to avoid feeling too rushed through the northern reaches of the beautiful country and so decided to do a little more exploring with my extra time. I braved the famous Ilala Ferry once more, this time in a northerly direction and chugged through the night up to an extremely remote spot called Ruarwe. The northbound ferry was far less chaotic, which meant I could tolerate a third class ticket quite easily where the food and drink is far cheaper and the experience far more African. Ruarwe is exceptionally beautiful and the little Zulukini Lodge: exquisite. It is set on the water’s edge, adjacent to a beautiful river with a waterfall dropping into the lake. The lodge’s extremely remote setting means that it lies within a largely untouched part of the lakeshore but also means that it is only accessible via the ferry so the biggest problem with visiting Ruarwe is the ferry’s schedule. The ferry runs on a weekly basis up and down the lake so you can either spend one night or eight nights there if you need to head back down south. It would have been nice to just relax in such a beautiful setting, uninterrupted by nuisances such as electricity and shops, for a full week but I felt the need to get back to my bike and back onto the road so I opted just to spend one night in this piece of paradise.
Once back in Nkhata I noticed a few hairline cracks starting to appear in my luggage rack so I took it all apart and got a local welder to strengthen it all up, which took him less than an hour but dismantling and re-assembling the bike setup, whilst giving it a little service at the same time, took me the better part of 2 days. Once it was all completed I felt happy to get back on the saddle on venture into the unknown knowing that things were solidly fixed and all bolts fastened. The road from Nkhata took me northwards up to Mzuzu, Rumphi and eventually Livingstonia. The ride was so beautiful that I did not even mind when I realised that I had been travelling for 60km in the wrong direction at one point as the scenery almost made it a worthwhile detour. It roughly followed the western lakeshore of Lake Malawi, sometimes cutting inland to navigate its way through the mountain passes but invariably came back to the lake. Portions of the road were cut into the sides of the steep slopes with the outer edge dropping down to the lake and whilst carving in and out of the sharp bends on the way down the mountain, trying my best to keep my eyes on the road and off the infinite view, I could only think of how similar it was to a short cruise over Chapman’s Peak Drive in Cape Town. The last 20km up the steepest of mountains proved to be the biggest challenge of the days riding and possibly the entire trip. Livingstonia is an old missionary town that was placed on top of the mountain to get away from the malaria threat of lower lying areas. The road from the lakeshore town of Chipata up to Livingstonia is considered dangerous in the dry and virtually impassable in the wet. The loose gravel track is famous for its 21 hairpin bends, which hikers are warned to count so as not to prematurely assume they have made it to the top. It winds its way up the mountain side in a continuous struggle against gravity and corning the 180 degree bends on a laden bike in first gear is an art that you only get to grips with once you are pretty much at the top.

Livingstonia provides for a fascinating glimpse into Malawi’s colonial past. A stroll through the wide dusty streets past the old hospital, colonial mansions, church and through the museum leaves you feeling as if you have gone back in time. I also took a walk to Manchewe falls, a 50m high water fall that once again afforded magnificent views where one can see all the way to the Mozambican side of the lake. I stayed at Mushroom Farm Backpackers, a beautiful spot on the cliff’s edge with breathtaking views, good food and an atmosphere that forces relaxation. The owner of the backpackers was overseas and so it was being run run by Paul, an Aussie, who was in the throes of planning his own African motorcycle odyssey on a 200cc bike. I have met many other travellers on bikes, all of whom are fairly surprised to see me on my small bike and most of whom ask the same questions such as “does it have enough power?” To which the answer is YES! Most roads in Africa are littered with goats, chickens, potholes and people, which makes it difficult to travel faster than 100km/h no matter the size of engine between your wheels. To date I have not really felt the urge to want to go faster but have appreciated the 180kg less that I am hauling around when compared to the average motorcyclist in Africa on a GS1200. Spares have not been an issue to date as my liitle Suzuki has performed admirably in the mechanical department and even if I were to have trouble, the bike is so similar to every other locally driven bike in Africa (and there are lots) that I could probably get any spare part within minutes of breaking down. I could honestly say, at this stage, that if I were to repeat the trip with bottomless budget I would consider the same bike again; it’s that perfect for Africa!

After a couple nights in Livingstonia I headed back down the 21 hairpin bends, which was possibly more difficult than the accent but still lots of fun. Once back at the lakeshore I made for the Tanzanian border, a 200km ride along good tar that flew by and before I knew it I was saying goodbye to Malawi. The border crossing was as simple as I could have hoped, despite the many warnings I had received about the hassling touts that lurk between the border posts and do their utmost to rip off any unsuspecting tourist wanting to change money at their “special rates”. Once in Tanzania the price of fuel decreased slightly but still remained relatively high when compared to the good old Republic of South Africa. I did the last 100km to Mbeya in rapidly decreasing light and warmth and arrived in the bustling town just after dark. It was strange to put my watch forward an hour despite being further west than the night before. The town centre was tough to navigate in darkness and I ended up paying a taxi driver to lead me a lodge for the night, where I learnt that there were no beds left. Thankfully the manager allowed me, and the other 8 backpacking travellers who rolled in at the same time, to camp on the small patch of hotel lawn and sleeping did not prove a challenge after a long day on the road.

Mbeya did not seem to have much to offer the average tourist but I still made the most of the abundant banks and selection of shops for most of the next morning. Once all my admin was done I escaped the regional capital and headed west on a two day marathon stretch across Tanzania. The first stretch of road took me through some tea and eucalyptus plantations and then thrust me into the harsh African wilderness. In the middle of Tanzania one feels as though you could be driving through the Kruger National Park, just without the wild animals. It is typical arid bushveld with pointed peaks scattered along the horizon. The first 100km of road from Mbeya runs parallel to the famous Tazara railway (or Game Train as the tourists call it) connecting Kapiri Moshi in Zambia to Dar es Salaam. Just before I reached Iringa I stopped at a world heritage site known as Isimila Stone age site, protecting the region where many significant archaeological finds have been excavated. I took some quick pictures and got back on the road, determined not to be left on the bike during the twilight hours. After a short stop to get some food supplies in Iringa I made my way to a beautiful riverside campsite and set up my tent under the setting sun. I had only managed to put about 350km under the belt after my late start which would mean an early start the following day in order to tackle the remaining 500km to Dar.

From Iringa I dropped off the high lying interior of Tanzania, constantly losing altitude for about 50km along a winding road between mountain peaks. The absence of arrester beds for the trucks meant that they crept down the slopes at snail’s pace and crept up on me as I approached with distinct urgency, requiring careful concentration. The temperature increased dramatically from the top to the bottom and landscapes extended further and further the more I descended out of the early morning mist. The road then made it’s way through a valley littered with Baobabs as far as the eye could see along the northern border of the Udzungwa Mountains National Park. They were doing road works in patches all the way from Iringa to Dar with only one lane open in most places but the unenthused “stop/go technicians” did not feel it necessary for motorbikes to wait out the oncoming traffic and consistently ushered me through on arrival trusting that I could safely skirt around the head on trucks and cars. At moments like these I just smile to myself and say TIA (This Is Africa).

I chose this specific route through Tanzania so that I could pass through the Mikumi National Park and was not disappointed when I came across a herd of elephants within a kilometre of entering the park’s borders. I was careful not to dismount the bike, or even switch it off, as I took a couple pictures of the 20 plus herd grazing about 20 meters away with the matriarch constantly facing me and eyeing me out. The rest of the 100 odd k’s through the park was everything I had hoped it would be with another herd of elephant, a couple sizable herds of buffalo and plenty giraffe, zebra and impala lining the tarmac.

After I exited the game reserve I knew it was just going to be a straight slog all the way to Dar and I wasn’t far off. I only dismounted the bike to put fuel in the tank and marvel at the occasional authentic Maasai Warrior herding his cattle through the middle of nowhere. I neared Dar in the late afternoon, just in time for rush hour traffic. The traffic jam started about 40km out of town and only got worse the closer I got. I passed pretty much every car that had passed me throughout the day as I weaved between the gridlocked traffic and along the verges, usually just sitting behind a local on a bike so that he could make judgment on what was acceptable motorcycle politeness. Once in Dar itself things got chaotic with cars and taxis darting everywhere and I soon realised that the only way I was going to make it out alive was to maintain a faster speed than the surrounding traffic and weave my way through with affected courage. I made it to a hotel in down town Dar with only having had two minor bumps from cars and another very near miss where I stupidly stopped at a red robot and was almost mauled by the car behind me... apparently traffic lights are more of a waste of electricity than anything else in rush hour traffic in the centre of town.

The next day I arranged to leave my bike with a friend of my brother and boarded the ferry to Zanzibar. After the treacherous journey across Tanzania I needed a couple days to relax and rebuild my will to survive the African roads. Zanzibar was almost exactly as I had imagined it to be, a contrasting mix of the historic Stonetown on the one side and beautiful white palm lined beaches inhabited by “package holiday” tourists in their top dollar lodges on the other. I spent a couple days in Stonetown. After a day on a tour through the spice plantations I spent most of my time wondering through the labyrinths between the aging ancient architecture. At night all the Mzungus (white people/tourists) congregate around the open air market where there are lots of little stands selling fresh sea food cooked to your taste and flavour. A short trip up to the northern reaches of the island gave me the chance to relax on the beach, treat myself to an incredible scuba dive and start to write this. From here I plan to head back to Dar and continue northwards up the coast into Kenya, the beauty of having so much time in which to travel is that no plan is set in stone so I can just see where the road takes me.