So quite a lot has happened since departing Gaborone and surprising the poor Wards a day early! The free day in Gabs I used to clean Tina up a bit after the last few days of dirt, swap the chains over (I'm running a chain rotation system as one chain won't last the whole trip, and a new one wouldn't fit the worn cogs, as per advice of cycling whizz Josh), and try a bit of planning. Undertaking the latter was when I realised that apart from the first few days in SA, and a bed in Gaborone, I'd been rather blasé about the whole thing. Given that my chicken korma was still sat in the fridge, it's fair to say not planning had worked well so far, but it seemed unwise to believe my luck would hold forever. So basically I got into a bit of a tizz and moped about stewing on things because I had nothing else to do. We went for a quick tour of Gabs, which isn't particularly impressive to be honest, and had a beer at the legendary Bull & Bush. That was also dead quiet, and bordering on the grotty. Shabby chique is perhaps a kinder way of putting it. Sarah had very kindly invited people over as a kind of 'question the weirdo' evening, and it was very good fun meeting some new people and gauging reactions to what I'm planning. The food was also delicious - I took care of 4 pork chops and 2 lots of crumble and custard. Preying on my mind was also the fact that I had a sore throat. A big factor of this trip is trying to stay as healthy as possible, and the beginnings of a cold on day 3 wasn't good. I don't normally get ill, so half blamed it on the dust roads, but kind of knew what it was. So basically I swapped beers for honey and lemon, and hoped for the best. The other reason for fretting was that Mahalapye, the next town up on the A1, was a rather daunting 190km from the capital, with very little in between. Sarah helped me out wonderfully by making me lots of food (sandwiches were specced weeks in advance) and dropping me on the A1 on the outskirts of town. So I saved a bit of distance and wouldn't have to stop anywhere for food, which was great. But there's no getting away from the fact that 180km is a long way on a bike, and even more so when it weighs 50kg. This would be the day when I cut my touring teeth, and find out what I could do, and the A1 is just one long, straight (thankfully mostly flat) road, with very little variety. There were some grim moments, mostly caused by a very draining head wind that sprang up at about 8:30. I tend to lie to myself and set targets, which I then move as I approach it. Not sure why I keep falling for it, but I normally take a while to get settled so I started saying I wouldn't stop until 30km, a mere ninth of what I needed to do. Even this was a struggle as I could feel the pork chops beginning to disagree with me. I wasn't far off my first bush dump, but managed to power through and the rumbling passed. I eeked the first stop out to 55km and had some food whilst chatting to a traffic cop on speed trap duty. I slunk off with a smirk as he pulled a guy over. Sucker! At 66km a white land cruiser pulled over in front of me, and out hopped a very enthusiastic chap called Ali. He was very nice indeed and was very impressed with me. He offered me a lift and water, both of which I refused. A lift on the first day, at only 1/3 of the way....impossible! So off he sped after a handshake and a few photos. There were times where I regretted my refusal, but all in all, I was pleased with the day. I made good time, and got to Mahalapye at just after 4. Roadkill was a constant distraction, and only the choicest picks were snapped (please see gallery for latest additions). Other than that it was fairly uneventful. I checked out the first lodge I came to, and it seemed fine. Pricey though. Luckily I enjoy a good haggle, and with the charity card tucked up my sleeve, full price was relegated to the realms of the fantastical. 33% off, check! They were very nice, heating up the korma for me and making me bacon sandwiches (albeit with raw onion in) for the road the next day. I was glad to see the back of the korma to be honest. It occupied an empty 1kg yoghurt pot to the very brim, and I probably shouldn't have risked eating it, but I hate food waste, and having both lugged it around for 3 days, and chaperoned it in and out of various fridges, decided it must be sampled. It smelt fine, and tasted good. I scoffed the whole lot along with 4 (mini) naans I had brought along. Following that I just vegged out using the free wifi to catch up on FT with various parties. I was obviously tired after such a long ride, but as soon as I was off the bike I felt surprisingly ok, so was pleased overall. Another neat milestone was crossing the Tropic of Capricorn. However, what I had accomplished wasn't really much in the scheme of things so I couldn't really relax - there still wasn't much before Francistown, and that was another 250 odd km away. I decided that having pedaled such a long way, I was now allowed to cheat: I formulated a bit of a plan to do the 80km to Palapye and then scrounge a lift all the way to FT, thus giving me a nice spare chunk of time to enjoy further north. I suppose that's the issue of doing this kind of thing on your own: there's no one to talk you out of bottling it or talking you back around. It's also dead easy to flag down a bakkie and chuck it in the back when you're just one. I bumped into a large group of Lycra clad roadies just outside of town. They seemed to be from the local mine and were sponsored. Some of them were friendly, but the head cyclist was rather rude, cutting me off and saying they had to do something important. Bit of a tosser really, but funnily enough he wasn't on a Pinarello - weird! Luckily I was distracted by a couple of girls wanting pics with me. I'd recently had a nose bleed so not sure what I looked like, but they seemed happy enough, and the press guy (there were police and lots of journalists knocking about) was papping me too. I politely declined chest autographs (I am afiancceed now after all) and set off towards the town centre for lunch. What a disappointing affair that was - fried chicken from Chicken Licken or Hungry Lion. I didn't really want the fare on offer, and when I eventually chose a burger looking type option, was informed this wasn't available. So I went to Spar instead, and bought what turned out not to be a sausage roll, but a strange bratwurst cross pepperoni. Two women tried to shake me down for a free lunch, but rather than point out that they would probably benefit from skipping a lunch or two (especially of the Chicken Licken variety) I said I was on a budget, and thus not in the habit of dishing out free lunches to strangers. I did sponsor the security guard a coke though. So after a pretty average lunch in a distinctly average town, I decided there was nothing for it but to get back on the road: I pulled out of town and had done a few more kms, when a lorry-ette type thing went past. I gesticulated enthusiastically and the guy pulled over. I asked how far he was going and although not Francistown, it was about 15km for Serorwe, where I had envisaged making it to under my own steam. That would put me about 150km from Malhalapye - decent enough for a day. The van/lorry man turned out to be a top bloke called Kennedy who was really really nice. Turns out he's a farmer, and was on the way to his plot, so he could give me a bit of a lift. We chatted about all sorts; the merits of Tswana vs Brahma cattle; snakes and how puff adders (confirmed the roadkill ID) hate it when you chuck soil on them; where best to farm in the country, and prices/hectare. We ended up by swapping numbers and him inviting me back to visit again, tempting me with the offer of hunting (rifle was behind the seats). I promised I would chauffeur him around some of the U.K. if he made it over to visit. I felt a bit guilty about getting a lift, but he assured me I wasn't cheating. My strength was referred to a lot, and I was left buoyed by his enthusiasm and good company, thoroughly glad to have flagged him down. Having a nose bleed was the only awkward moment, but soon passed after staunching the flow. When he dropped me off I took about 30 mins to get to Serorwe, and it took me past the Jaera Inn, where some other cycling tourists had stayed. It looked pretty grim, and it was only about 2pm so I thought I would use the time to my advantage and carry on. FTown was definitely out of range, and I thought Tonota was too, so was planning on throwing myself upon the mercy of some villagers inbetween the two. However, the tar was just so darn smooth and flat that I was sailing along, and by about 3:30pm I was only around 36km short of Tonota. There was some exciting roadkill, but otherwise I just kept my head down and churned out the miles. The last 20km were a pretty tough, and there was a lot of distance checking, and even doubting of the functionality of the poxy Garmin. I was cutting it fine as had a self-imposed rule that you should be off the road by the time your shadow reaches across the whole width, and my gangly frame was now comfortably protruding onto the verge on the far side of the road. I ended up in Baraka lodge on the far side of town, about 27km from FT and 190 ish from Mahalapye. Not bad, and even considering the lift, I think I'd done back to back 100 mile days. The lodge was pretty grim, and I soon realised why my haggle was successful - guests were a rarity! But it was what I needed - a hot shower and a bed. Even if there was a kitchen, I wasn't going to use it, so it was out with the stove and my fancy collapsible bowl/pan. Maiden outings on the trip for both of them, and it felt good actually using the things after lugging them around for days. I put the pasta on to boil and headed to the services across the road for chocolate. I shan't go into gruesome detail, but long sweaty days in the saddle had produced some chafe that threatened to become an issue if I didn't sort it out. There was some thorough scrubbing, inspection by use of my wing mirror, and cream application. I decided that best plan was to have a bit of a rest and let things recover, but I didn't really want to hang around Francistown. I decided to make an early start and get into town and hit the local bus rank. I'd seen plenty of 'Teddy's Express' coaches thundering past on the A1 in the previous few days, so figured I could jump on one of those easily enough even though I was now transitioning onto the A3. Not so. It turns out Nata isn't a big coach destination. I was left with the choice of one operator. It should be P40/person up to Nata (asked around, hadn't I!) so we calculated that, seeing as it was a little mini van, he'd lose 4 seats. That seemed fair enough, so we had a proviso agreement on P200. Then the boss arrived, shoved the bike on the roof, and put the price up to 220. I tried being nice, and then got pretty annoyed with him, especially as a girl had since nabbed the comfy front seat during negotiations. I probably could have just carried on past FT and chanced my arm with a bakkie, especially seeing as Kennedy the day before was such a gem, but I didn't want to risk having to cycle too much and get saddle sores. It was also a new experience, and I must admit, quite fun hanging around the bus rank. Of course Tina was the showpiece, with myself merely playing the part of orator, and she had soon accrued quite a crowd. The skulls brought their own bit of buzz too, and it was nice to have some conversations after time by myself on the road. The Jesus sandals, and their clip-in functionality caused similar fascination. One guy was very keen to have a go, but less keen to listen to clipping and unclipping instructions. So off he went around the bus rank, sitting on the cross bar because he was too short to reach the saddle. He certainly lacked style and speed, but was enjoying himself. Then things got even better - it came to dismount time and much hilarity ensued as he collapsed against the side of a passing bus, unable to get his foot out or right himself. At last the crowd got what it wanted! Then Tina went on the roof and we set off at 11 (early start was very unnecessary, but a pleasant ride in I must say). Bus rank mingling was very fun, only marred by one shifty looking character sidling towards my bags. I can only imagine he would be a more successful and enterprising criminal if he hadn't looked so unsavoury - you could see him coming from a mile off. I got in between him and the bags, and then put them in the car. He lingered for about another 10 minutes, scowling and gum-chewing, no doubt inwardly seething at his foiled plot, and then sloped off. The drive itself was fine. Learnt the Tsetswana words for donkey (tonkey) and goat (budi) and a few other ones I've forgotten. Tonkey amused me greatly. It also soon became apparent why I was put in the cheap seats - Zed, the driver, was earnestly worming the woman in the passenger seat. I dubbed it the love seat, and whilst not desirous of Zed's amorous intentions, a little extra padding on the seat would have been much welcomed. It wasn't much comfier than Tina really, but a whole lot faster, and I felt more vindicated in my decision to cheat as the thus far buttery and expansive tar roads of Botswana descended into the shoulder-less potholed affair more prevalent across the continent. We got to Nata in about 2,5 hours, saving me a day of cycling and much ointment application. A nice chap from Zim called Rodwell insisted we swap numbers at the end of the ride, so I shall drop him a line when I'm in Harare (which is where he lives). Very nice guy. Once in Nata I put the panniers back on Tina and headed across the road for lunch and wifi. No wifi unfortunately, but Barcelo's do a lovely chicken schwarma. I put the local Bots sim I bought in the phone and set about arranging the next few days: 5km backtrack to Pelican Lodge for camping, 60km next day to Elephant Sands, and then Saturday 135km to Pat & Ed's farm in Pandamatenga for 2 nights. All in all a successful day. Pelican was a very pleasant place, but rather empty: I was the only person in the campsite when I arrived, and couldn't find anyone else in the lodge either. Luckily there were beers and free wifi, so I didn't get too depressed. I had my first Botswanan brew there - St Louis. It was quite lovely: so much so that I had another even though I'm a bit coldy (nosebleeds have been plaguing me, even erupting mid conversation at the bus rank). Bit of a chilly night again, not helped by me collapsing the tent by pulling the pegs out after a midnight wee (damn you St Louis!). Beautiful morning, and was away at about 8 after forcing down some hard boiled eggs. I pulled into 'Choppies', which was very jolly indeed. It's a supermarket chain here, and at 8:30 it was blasting out some very upbeat tunes at full blast. I stocked up on a Swiss roll (which with no cream in, turned out to be a significant disappointment), some muffins, and a yogi sip. Then we were off again for the 55km to Elephant Sands. For the first 40km or so it was very uneventful - some rather large snapped tree trunks, and excrement was all I saw of elephants, or indeed anything apart from Hornbills and Lilac-breasted Rollers. Then a rare roadkill find - a bat eared fox! I would much rather have seen one alive, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers, and it wasn't long after that when I spotted elephant. I pulled over and started rummaging around for the GoPro, found the battery had drained itself, put another one in, and started filming. I have no idea what it looks or sounds like as my iPhone and GoPro are not friends in the format department. I'm not doing very well in that respect as I'm pretty sure my camera is about to break too - it won't focus properly if you change the zoom, unless you switch it off and on again. This would be a severe blow to my trip, so hopefully will right itself. It was very cool seeing some ellies, and even more so not being trampled! I lost count of how many times I got told I was going to die at the bus rank. One bus driver, Sidney, even took my number and said he would call me to check if I made it. He hasn't yet, but I suppose I'm not at Kasane yet either. The campsite was pretty nice. Not as good as Pelican, but busier. I wasted no time ingratiating myself with the neighbours and was plied with 2 Castle Lites and invited over for evening braai. They're Saffers from Potchesfroom, and rather than butcher the spelling of their names , shall refer to them as M&A. Whilst they went off on a game drive I minced about the camp spinning road yarns and talking to the two Defender 130 owners that had pitched up. I think the contrast in Landy fans was well illustrated here - one lot was headed by 'Safari Joe', a peanut-coloured Dutchman whose mates were all wearing camo gilets adorned with 'Fok Jou' and Orange Free State badges, and the other was a group of Christian missionaries on their way up to Zambia, headed by Keith. Both great in their own way, but I secretly hoped for a bible-and Klipdrift-fuelled showdown on whose truck was better (missionaries was, by the way, as could carry an impressive 275l of diesel!). When M&A came back we got the fire going and chatted some more. Both thoroughly nice people who served me a lovely supper of potato wedges, pork chops and chicken drumsticks. I was obviously quite popular as, whilst enjoying my beer the other side of the termite mound, some cheeky girl set up her tent right next to mine. If it was a bloke I'd have told him to scram, but I couldn't imagine shaking the feeling of ungentlemanly behaviour if I had asked her to bugger off. It turns out she was a Japanese lady who had been travelling for a whopping 1,5 years. She'd done 10 months in Latin America (not that her Spanish backed that claim up) and was now on her way down to Cape Town before turning round and heading north again as far as Ethiopia. Anyway, it was clear she hadn't shaken the Tokyo lifestlye and realised that in Africa everyone has a bit more space! The next day was a fairly long stretch from Elephant Sands to Pandamatenga. I thought it would be about 140km, and not too bad as long as the wind was kind. It was hard to get away on time as I had to wait my tent, AKA 'The Coffin', to dry, and the promised lift to the road rather than tackling their sandy drive was withdrawn. I was probably underway by about 7:40, and the wind was already picking up. I’d gone about 5km when an Elephant Sands bakkie came past and stopped. I thought I’d forgotten something, but it turns out that they were checking on a pump up the road, so would run me up a bit further. No complaints there, so Tina and I clambered into the back and enjoyed the free miles. Then disaster struck! A tourer coming the other way! To my eternal shame, there I was, breezing along in a bakkie whilst he made his way by manpower. Rather embarrassing, but it looked like he only had rear panniers, and was going with the wind. It would have been great to talk to him, as by my calculations he would have camped rough that night (passed him at about 8:15 and nearest town was Pandamatenga, 130km away). Either that or he got a lift, made a very early start from Panda. An early start would probably have been dodgier than camping as you could hear the trucks honking to clear the road of wildlife from about 4am. That said, I did hear lion the night before, so a bold decision either way. A shame to miss him, but there we go.
It was a pretty uneventful ride initially, and apart from an elephant skeleton (close enough to road to be classed as roadkill), I only saw Steenbok and some zebra in the first 60km. Highlights were a lorry crash where one of them had fallen asleep and gone across the road into another one, and some truckers who I chatted to and got a water refill from. They were both Zambians from the same trucking company, one going North with machinery, the other going South with copper. Good lads, and I got fist bumps, lots of ‘you’re moving’ comments, and congratulations. I believe the implication was that I was moving fast for a bike, but thought it was a bit obvious that I was indeed in motion. Things got interesting when one started tearing up an old newspaper and fiddling around in a pouch. I politely enquired what was going on, and was informed that they were rolling up some ‘ganja’ for a little teabreak. Now smoking weed whilst operating heavy machinery is ill-advised at the best of times, but to use bits of newspaper as your mode of ingestion is just mad! Bloody nutters, and as I set off I wondered if the guy who crashed had had too much, or not enough weed. I then started to hit a patch of Elephants, and had to pass a good few in the space of about 10km. The gopro was deployed, but with limited success. I have a good video of me trying to look like part of a lorry as we chug through the middle of a herd. Cue some ear flapping and hysterical noises (from myself). The driver was absolutely wetting himself, and I can probably understand why – some nutty cyclist pedalling through the bush and weaving between elephants. Still, an excellent alleviation of the boredom, and a bit of a shot of adrenalin for the legs. Otherwise it was a fairly boring day, and one where I struggled mostly because the campsite girl had lied about there being a town half-way where I could get food. I completed the day mostly fuelled by custard and cakes of various sorts, and was pretty fed up by the time Pat came and got me from the side of the road. There was another ‘question the weirdo’ night where my sanity was repeatedly challenged, before I sloped off to bed at 10pm. The food was excellent, but a day of riding on not a lot (and plenty of beers of course) had taken their toll. Today has been spent relaxing and re-realising how much farmers can talk! Luckily it was interesting stuff, but 1 hour for a cup of tea did take me back to getting bored stiff by the old man chewing the cud with other farmer types when I was a kid. Apologies for all those visual types, but here is what I might call ‘bush internet’ and I have only managed to upload a few pictures in this whole time. Chloe my PA might be able to put some more up for you shortly. Otherwise, happy Sunday.
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AuthorSam Brook - A mildly Africanised Pom about to cycle from Joburg to Nairobi. Archives
August 2017
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