The Wake up Call of Zambia

Victoria Falls did not disappoint.

We were expecting an experience tailored heavily to the rich tourist. Check!

We were expecting to be charged heavily for crossing borders for only one day. Check!

We were expecting the Falls to be impressive in their natural splendour. Check! Thankfully!

The last point made all the hassle worthwhile. The Falls are simply magnificent, not as high as Niagara which Wendy and myself visited several years back, but the breadth of the natural architecture just takes your breath away, as does the soaking you get when standing at the more central viewing points. We were chuckling at the name of the last viewing area on the meandering walk along the Zimbabwean side of the falls – “Dangerous Point” – that is until we got there. It would give your average ‘Elf and Safety geezer in the UK a heart attack. A bunch of slippery, moss- covered rocks with a magnificent unobstructed view along the whole Falls and no fencing or barrier of any kind to prevent a fall of about 100m to the bottom of the canyon. It is encouraging to see that a bunch of disparate people left to exercise common sense in the cause of self-preservation usually manage quite successfully, something that we in our Nanny state seem to have forgotten.

Our report on the Falls would not be complete without making mention of the Victoria Falls Hotel where we went for lunch. A masterpiece of British colonial splendour. As I tackled my first ever crocodile Caesar salad (a bit like tangy chicken) we looked out across the perfectly coiffured lawns to the famous bridge in the distance where tourists bungee jump, locals try to sell you overpriced junk and the cloud of water vapour from the Falls which looks like smoke hence the local name which means “the smoke that thunders”. It really was a perfect location. Andrew was imagining some upper class British chap over 100 years ago choosing the spot for his new hotel “I say! This is the best place for our hotel. Be a good chap and just clear away that bunch of natives. Now where is that G&T….damned mosquitoes….tally ho” It was massively out of touch with everything that is Britain today but it did make us smile and the food and service was fantastic.

View from our "Luncheon" table at VF Hotel

I can’t take this tale into Zambia without a final mention of our last day at Mazambala Lodge in Namibia. We went on a boat and game drive. With Eustace as guide for only me and Andrew it was a private tour of the area. We saw several Hippos and learned that they are the most aggressive of wild animals. They attack humans if they feel their space to be threatened and, according to Eustace, go off their food for a week after tasting human blood. Very sensitive creatures….I think not! Luckily the crocodiles were quite inactive as it is winter and it takes a while for their cold blooded anatomies to wake up.

In the battered old Toyota pick-up, Eustace tracked a herd of Elephants to the point where our paths crossed provoking a large female to place herself about 5m away from the vehicle, guarding her family she hooted at us quite angrily and swung her head from side to side while Eustace was murmuring at us not to make any sudden movements. Later that day both Andrew and I had “loose motions”…with hindsight, maybe it wasn’t to do with the malaria meds kicking in ;-)

On checking with the Lodge owner, a charming elderly gent who spends his winters in the US skiing in Aspen, he advised that Zimbabwe was the best side to view the Falls. For us this meant crossing from Namibia into Botswana via the Ngoma border point before heading to the town of Kasane. He also advised that the roads were considerably better using that route than the alternative to the North through Zambia. 

If you look at a map around Victoria Falls the conjunction of 4 countries, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Zambia, gives an idea of how it is possible to cross different borders on subsequent days. On the Monday we crossed into and returned from Zimbabwe leaving our bikes in Botswana. Tuesday saw us at the completely chaotic Kazangula Ferry to cross from Botswana into Zambia, this time with our bikes as we intended to make for Lusaka.

We had ridden past over 1km of queuing lorries, which can wait for a week before getting on the ferry as it only takes 2 at a time, to arrive at an area where there was a total free for all. We literally had no idea where to go or what to do. A young guy approached us shouting at us to give him our carnets. He carried no official documentation or identity. We ignored him initially but he then encouraged us to get on the ferry so we squeezed alongside the 2 lorries. The guys running the ferry seemed OK with this but they did want to be paid in local currency – the Kwacha. Of course we had none so this is how Dede, the fixer, got us as his clients. He gave us the money to pay the fare. On the other side Dede then took us on a wild tour around 5 different offices to get all our documentation in order. Some fees had to be paid in Kwacha which he gave us. Some had to be paid in US Dollars which we had. Once the process was complete, we tallied up the amount he had lent us and added about US$60 for his fee. At the time it felt quite expensive but now I think it was well worth it. I simply can’t imagine trying to get through that process in the middle of a mass of heaving humanity and vehicles without a fixer. With his help we were through in an hour. Without it…well who knows?

Dede the "Fixer" on the left and his buddy who stood guard over the bikes

We were then free to get on the road to Lusaka with the first stop being Livingstone where we stopped for lunch. Zambia’s population is around 17m over 8 times more than Namibia or Botswana. It is a much busier place! Livingstone was bouncing with tourists and locals. The traffic was heavy and it drove fast and close. This was a bit of a shock to our relaxed approach to riding. We suddenly had to up our game and the main T1 out of Livingstone was an education.

The speed limit is 100Kmph. We stuck at 90Kmph and were overtaken by nearly everything including at one point a 16 ton truck which thundered by belching smoke like a world war one destroyer making a lie of the 80Kmph sticker on the back. As it went by it was itself being overtaken by a sinister convoy of 5 unmarked modern 4WD’s with flashing blue lights and no number plates. By the way, the road is a normal 2 lane highway – what we would call a “B” road at home. Broken down vehicles littered the route with some drivers looking as though they were camped for days waiting for spares. In a 100km we rode by at least 4 patches of fire burned road and bush where a vehicle had combusted and no doubt destroyed itself, or perhaps been involved in a collision.

We stopped in a roadside “lodge” for the evening and learned that the Zambian version of a “lodge” is completely different to Namibia and Botswana. It was very basic with poor food and we were kept awake by the trucks which kept going all night.

I have decided to replace the bash plate on the CCM before continuing the journey. On learning that the new one wasn’t due in Lusaka until the following Monday I changed our plan. Not relishing the prospect of 4 days in a big city, we turned right on getting to the T2 heading for Siavonga – or “the Zambian Riviera” according to their tourist authority. The road cleared somewhat and we enjoyed some really pure motorcycling through lovely countryside, gently twisting and turning uphill and downhill finally arriving at Siavonga where we checked into a very nice, truly peaceful resort with astonishing views over the enormous man made fresh water lake Kariba. I think we will stay for a good few days before continuing.

  

Capital City to Safari

Namibia Part 5

We are very nearly at the end of our time in Namibia. After trawling along all 200Km of Caprivi Strip at a fuel conserving rate of 90Kph we stopped at the Mazambala Island Lodge thinking we were going to camp but ended up giving in to the temptation of 2 single rooms at a very competitive off season rate.

We still have another 80Km before petrol. We have noticed the BMW has low consumption around the 90KPh mark and its 15 litre tank means that we are right on the limit at 280km. The CCM has a bigger tank and returns around 19.5km for every litre giving a range of approx. 350km.

Boring these statistics may be but in a continent where it is not unknown for the fuel stations to have none it is always a good idea to know precisely what range you have left in the tank. For those of you with a practical mind set we do this by the simple tactic of resetting the trip meter to zero at every fuel stop.

If you have never been to Africa before it should be apparent from this blog that so far all of you would have enjoyed many of the places we have visited. Namibia in particular caters well to tourists and it is very unlikely that you would suffer much in the way of culture shock if you caught a flight into Windhoek (capital of Namibia).

The CCM needed a broken bash plate bracket to be welded which required us to stay in Windhoek over the weekend. The Bike and Quad centre run by Loffie did a good job at sorting it and fitting a new tyre.

While waiting, we easily plugged back into normal UK habits, visiting the relatively new large shopping centre with its multi-screen cinema to see the new Terminator movie and eat frozen yoghurt from one of the fashionable outlets. We pushed the UK habits a bit too far though, arriving 5 minutes after the start time to miss some of the adverts – there were none! There followed much stumbling and tripping in the dark as we found our seats, irritating the rest of the audience. Mind you they got their own back as the regular coughing and spluttering betrayed the fact that almost everybody here has a cold – just like home! It is winter – don’t let the 30 degree day temperatures fool you!

In Windhoek our accommodation was the African Kwela Guest House run by the welcoming Dianna and Ian who took us on a tour of the city on Sunday morning knowing that we were at a bit of a loose end. Notwithstanding my earlier comment about no culture shock, it is still difficult for European eyes to look upon the extreme poverty of a large percentage of the population with equanimity. Tin shacks…lots of them!

We also visited the very strange Namibian Independence Museum built by the North Koreans. Its bizarre and haphazard layout did nothing to tell the story so if you are interested read up about it on Wikipedia. You will know far more than us!

North Korean Communist Influence is clear

On Monday afternoon we continued North stopping for the night at Okahandja. I only mention this because the owner of the guest house lent us her car to drive to the local restaurant (we don’t like riding at night). Seriously, can you imagine anyone doing that back home?

Our objective was the Etosha National Park. We rode straight up to the front gate to be refused entry on the basis that we would be eaten by the local inhabitants. But our luck was in as we booked into the Etosha Mukuti Lodge right by the gate at a fantastic all-inclusive rate. This is the bit of our trip that I think none of you would struggle with.

The game drive started at 6am the next day. Images of Lions, Giraffe, various antelope, Elephants, Zebra and the biggest flying bird in the world (weighs 18Kg) all made their way onto my camera. Nearly got the black Rhino but she surprised us all by just being inside the entrance gate a time when my camera was still in its bag!   

  

 

Lion admirers...watch out behind you!

Break dancing elephant style

In addition to fuel consumption the other reason for our riding along at a relatively sedate speed is to avoid the ever increasing numbers of livestock which wander freely across the B8 main road. Cows, donkeys and goats seem to have developed the ability to avoid being hit by the Toyota Hiluxes which charge along at 130Kph, sporting very robust bull bars and usually towing trailers. Motorcycles are very rare and the livestock doesn’t seem to show the same awareness. Of course we would come off much worse in a collision, hence our prudence.

There is evidence of speeding cars getting it wrong. Perhaps the driver falls asleep or they have a tyre blow out but at the speed they travel at there is no time to recover. Something that the driver of the new large and abandoned Mercedes saloon car which had obviously barrel rolled, smashing all its panels and windows, will hopefully still be around to reflect on. 

In any event, for us, it is about the right speed to take in the views. The landscape is gradually getting greener the closer we get to the Angolan border. Straw hut settlements line the main road. Local schools with groups of very young children sitting outside in a disciplined semi-circle around their teacher. Collections of curios and artefacts created by those who live there. I can’t help wondering how they manage the basics, water, waste, etc.

Next up for us is the famous Victoria Falls. I think we are going to be firmly in the grip of Western tourist prices. It’s going to come as a shock!

Sossusvlei

Namibia Part 4

More wide and varied conditions on the dirt roads heading North required a high level of concentration. We were heading along the C19 from Maltahohe to Sesriem the jumping off point to visit Sossusvlei, one of the major tourist attractions.

The gravel road regularly changed from relatively smooth to horrible washboard with large sandy ridges running across the direction of travel. There was no discernible pattern making it almost impossible to predict. Remember that the recommended way of dealing with washboard is to accelerate to roughly 80kph until the suspension “harmonises” with the vibration making progress a lot smoother. Sometimes you have to push up to 100kph to get the desired result.

This is fine until you hit one of the sandy ridges. This sometimes causes “fishtailing” – the bike wriggles in a very unsettling way. There is, of course, another recommended technique for dealing with this – accelerate….and RELAX!

So picture this. You are already charging along at 80KPH when your bike hits sand and starts to wriggle from side to side. Every instinct is telling you to SLOW DOWN but in actual fact you have to RELAX and SPEED UP! The bike then pushes itself through into stability.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to relax your arms and your mind the alarm bells are just too insistent. This is my excuse for throwing the bike and me down the road – it was the most scary tank slapper (when the bars bang violently from lock to lock) I have ever experienced. I have no clear memory of the precise cause or of trying to apply the correct technique, only of saying “shit…shit…” several times before landing with a thump. After picking up me and the bike, I paced out 100 steps from where it started.

Still, no real damage done to flesh or machinery, so after pausing to drink some water I got back on and joined Andrew who was waiting up ahead at the left turn onto the C27 to Sesriem. We pulled into the rest stop, refuelled, and decided to sit in the shade while eating freshly made sandwiches from the bakery – an exorbitant tourist price of £1 each.

A BMW F800GS pulled into refuel and the rider came over to introduce himself straight away. Hennie had come up from Cape Town on his long planned solo tour of Namibia and Botswana. It seemed natural to team up and we quickly managed to get rooms at the very swish Sossusvlei Lodge at a very good discounted rate.

While trying not to feel too smug about sitting with our fellow, mostly European, diners who had clearly all paid significant sums to be on their dream African holiday while we had paid £50 each, we discussed the pros and cons of taking the expensive guided tour (£25) instead of hitching a lift up to the famous sand dunes. Motorcycles are specifically banned. We decided on the tour which meant meeting at 6:30am the next morning where we were introduced to our guides, Eno and Jackson.   

Sossusvlei means an area of plenty or gathering of waters, quite ironic as it sees rain once every 3 or 4 years. It is an area at the end of 65km of tarmac road and 5km of very deep sandy rutted track that saw badly driven 4WD’s getting stuck. Banning motorcycles made a lot of sense. We would never have made it and our floundering would have been a major pain to the guys who knew that the only way to deal with sand is to maintain momentum.

This whole area is under water once every 4 years or so.

Dune 45 - the most photographed.

Our guides were worth the money. They were calm, informative, relaxed and prepared to have a laugh. Through them we learned that the Namib Desert is the oldest in the world and 2,000Km long by 200Km wide. The red sand comes from the Kalahari washed down the Orange River to the Atlantic for wind and current to deposit back in Namibia. There are 950 species of bird in the country and rather bizarrely we were shown a very unimpressed owl sitting in a tree being photographed by gawking tourists.

"Yawn.....when does it get dark?"

Eno gave a compelling account of the life of the sand spider before digging one out of the sand with his bare hands. The female lives for over six months, longer depending on how many males she eats after mating, something which greatly amused the wife of the German couple who were also on our tour. 

But the main attraction is the enormous red sand dunes which are so impressive. Jackson led us all up the narrow crest on one of the few that allow walking before encouraging us to run down the side like giddy children. In the meantime Eno had set up a picnic for us all to enjoy in the shade of an Acacia Tree. We were ready for some grub after our early start and walk up the dune. Very nice it was too!

 Jackson in the background. Hennie at the front - not his best look!

An attempt to give an idea of the scale

Picnic!

We have been a bit longer in Namibia than our distance covered would warrant. As I write we are in a very nice guesthouse in Windhoek. Our intention was to stay no more than 2 nights so that a new rear tyre could be fitted to the CCM and perform an oil change, but we are going to have to stay a bit longer as more work needs to be carried out.

We also got stuck in Keetmanshoop far longer than intended due to organising all the logistics around James going back to the UK. Life on the road wasn’t for him.

Our plan now is to head further North, take in the Etosha National Park then head along the Caprivi Strip towards Zambia and the Victoria Falls.

You can't believe the scenery unless you are in it....

Namibia Part 3

Exaggeration is a trait to which we in the UK have heightened sensitivity. We are permanently on guard against “BS”. Perhaps because of this I had moderate expectations of the Namibia which had been universally praised by everybody we have met so far.

This gives me a problem when trying to describe what we have seen. I suspect you will all think that I have bought into the hype. I have not. It’s simply that I have never seen such a landscape before nor experienced such an emotional reaction to being in the middle of it.

Let me try to explain.

We left Keetmanshoop with a simple plan of riding to Aus about 210Km down the B4 tarmac road. We had been told about a place just past Aus where wild horses gathered. It sounded intriguing and well worth a visit. We were then going to take stock and decide what to do next. Luderitz, a Germanic seaside fishing port at the end of a 120Km cul-de-sac on the B4, was a possibility as was heading North to Helmering Hausen maybe taking in the Commonwealth war graves along the way.

Riding a motorcycle puts you right in the middle of the picture in a way which can never be replicated from inside an air conditioned car. There are no distractions. No music, no phones, no twiddling with temperature controls, no having to try to make conversation with others in the car. On roads as empty as these you just look at the scenery. With the back of your mind you listen to the machine and almost sub-consciously alter the throttle setting to maintain a steady speed. But mostly you are just aware of being right there….it’s what I think meditation would be like.

Imagine being in that state of mind having completed about 150Km through the top end of Fish River Canyon, then up into the heights along a dead straight road before dropping down into a large  plain. Laid out before you is what looks like multi coloured sea mist covering tens of kilometres to the horizon. Breaking through this mist are large jagged mountains. This picture then resolves itself into something more solid. It’s not mist, it is desert with large green and pink swathes distinctly painted across the surface. The scale is beyond my imagination.

It is almost surreal. I am reminded of a famous science fiction novel from the 70’s, Dune, set on a desert planet. It wouldn’t surprise me if the author got some of his inspiration from being here.

As we descend further into the desert the colour is explained by some scrubby vegetation growing inexplicably in straight lines, the denser areas showing green and less concentrated softening the red sand to a pink.    

 All this time we have been riding down an absolutely dead straight strip of jet black tarmac which disappears to a pinprick on the horizon like one of roads in the Roadrunner cartoons (really showing my age here – Dune and Roadrunner!)

By the time we get to Aus, the wild horses have become just something we have to do instead of the main reason for the journey. Personally, I found it rather plain and, well, ordinary. But that’s only because I was still gobsmacked by the ride to get there. I am sure the horses were disappointed by my lack of reaction to their wildness but they will get over it ;-)

James contemplating his backside after a 230km ride...oh and some horses  

We pop back to Aus where we made another excellent decision. This one to stay the night in the Banhof Hotel. As Andrew said, everything they provided was done with the best quality. The food was absolutely exceptional, the staff very well trained and with excellent spoken English, no doubt necessary to better serve their mainly German customers, it being much more practical for them to improve existing English than learn German. The evenings here get quite cold so I can hardly tell you how pleased I was to get into the turned-down bed, after removing the chocolate from the pillow, to find a hot water bottle nestling under the clean white duvet. Fandabidosi! This travelling through Africa is a real hardship! However, we did pay for it. For absolutely everything including evening meal, drinks and breakfast it was £55 each.

The next day we trundled down the cul-de-sac to Luderitz which we thought had delusions of grandeur as they have put a “Hollywood” style of sign upon the hillside for all to see as you drive in. This impression is wrong though. It is a functional wee town with a pretty anchorage in which there lay a variety of shipping from working boats to leisure craft. We were left with a very positive impression through the honesty of one of the citizens who came to try to find us when we had left a helmet on a bench in the main road. It had been there for over 10 minutes before we realised. With a sinking heart we hurried back only to be pleasantly surprised by this honest chap. At times like this one can’t help drawing unfavourable comparisons with home where no doubt a temporarily forgotten personal item would have been viewed as fair game by most.

On the way back we stopped at the now famous ghost town of Kolmanskop. This has appeared in several television documentaries fairly recently. I have to confess that we were all a bit cynical about it. We had to pay £4 each to go and look at empty ruined buildings – something you can do for free in France as Andrew was keen to point out. It had been a thriving community based on German culture whose sole purpose was to collect as many diamonds as possible from the surrounding lands. Once it had been squeezed dry, everybody left. Not too surprising really but full marks to whoever thought of setting it up as a tourist attraction. It was mad busy with at least one coach disgorging a load of tourists into the café and Curio shop. You can get a great Tuna Mayo sandwich there…..just so’s you know….

First in an exciting new development of Namibian time share

Not much use for its original purpose but still handles the sand better than the Red Peril

This one is just for Ian...it's not "green screen"...honest

We are going to be heading further North soon. Lots more to see in Namibia before we move on.

Fish River Canyon

Namibia 

“Tell him I will arrest him” said the angry lady in the green uniform.

We were visiting one of the main tourist attractions in Namibia, the Fish River Canyon. According to the information which came with the £5 ticket entry it is the second biggest hole in the ground in the world, the biggest being the other one near Las Vegas. At 160km long, 27Km wide and 0.5Km deep it is a very impressive piece of natural engineering that only took 1.5bn years to complete. We agreed that it was worth the entry fee despite the incongruity of an organisation owning such an astonishing natural phenomenon.

Could be any hole in the ground.....

James had arrived well ahead of Andrew and me, keeping up a higher average speed over 120km of dirt road. Andrew was building his confidence by keeping his speeds below 50Kph, getting used to the Red Peril and doing well. As James entered the park he was distracted by a group of 3 riders leaving. Consequently he missed the lady in uniform waving him into the section where the entry fee had to be paid. When Andrew and me arrived we soothed things, paid for the 3 of us and by the time we left she was having a laugh about it.

We needed fuel for the return journey which meant stopping at Canyon River Lodge only a few Km after passing the now no longer angry lady in the green uniform. We met the 3 riders who had exited the park as James arrived. They were on a variety of machines and Johan told of a scary moment in the same sand that had caught Andrew out a couple of days back. Hearing that he was not alone in his difficulties may have helped Andrew attack the 120Km of dirt road back to tarmac at a much higher speed. We were further motivated by the price of the rooms at the Lodge. Our thinking has recalibrated to expect a “high” rate of £25 per night including breakfast – the lodge, no doubt thinking it had a captive audience, wanted £55 per night. It may be the price of a provincial Premier Inn at home but here we thought it “outrageous” and resolved to find somewhere cheaper.

The three of us took on the challenge of getting off the dirt road before it got dark. The guy in the BMW dealership in Stellenbosch had been adamant that we must not ride the dirt roads in the dark. “Stop and camp at the side of the road if you have to but absolutely do not ride”

 This left us just over 90 minutes to get to tarmac. With the sun sinking just ahead of our left shoulders we shot north at between 80Kph and 100Kph. Glancing to the right, our shadows gradually lengthened as the sun sunk lower, casting the mountains in the East in a glorious yellow hue, picking out the different coloured sedimentation strata, while the full moon (sitting in a bright blue sky) got higher and more pronounced.

We arrived at the tarmac just in time then followed our lights back to Keetmanshoop to the Birds Nest Hotel where we had stayed the previous evening.

A comfortable hotel with a very nice atmosphere and good (enough) food, on our first night we met Alex Jackson who runs motorcycle tours around SA and Namibia and who kindly shared a lot of his very extensive experience as well as telling us some very entertaining stories…almost none of which can be repeated here! He was en-route South to Capetown after conducting a tour for a client. The roads which only the day before had given us so much pleasure to ride on were viewed by Alex as nothing more than a boring commute albeit he would have been covering the distance at a much faster rate on his big V twin KTM.

Keetmanshoop is a lively medium sized town predominately made up of single story buildings, it has quite a bit of a frontier feel about it. Everything an overland traveller needs is available including functional ATMs, a fully stocked supermarket (Pick and Pay), two hardware stores (8mm spanner and gun gum) as well as the tremendous Wimpy. No, not the fast food outlet (although they do have them in SA) rather the owner of Wimpy’s Garage who specialise in exhausts and general metal work repairs. The size of a small house, Wimpy surveyed the hole in my exhaust before resolving to fix it. 45 minutes and 3 different approaches later a metal patch had been delicately welded into place. A nice piece of work carried out as soon as we arrived and with polite, friendly efficiency. The price? An unbelievable £5. Can you even begin to imagine trying to get something like that done at home at that price?

On the other hand, the couriers failed to arrive with the spare parts needed to fix the CCM (this is Africa!) so we are now heading for Windhoek where the redirected parcel is due to be delivered. We intend to take in some of the tourist spots along the way. Watch this space…!     

Some more photos!

Cape point - official start point of the trip.

CCM in its natural environment, not so sure about the riders!

Ai-Ais camp site - The glamour of international travel...