I was up early on my only night in Livingstone, but not really because I had to be. It was nice to get a head start and try and plan things a bit. Unfortunately, there has been so much rain that the cool activities that I had in mind for Vic Falls - swimming in the Devils Pool and exploring the base of the waterfall - were not available due to the high river level. It's poor form to moan about rain in Africa so I shan't do that, but it did leave me with a bit of a free day. I had a bit of breakfast and then decided to head into town for some kwatcha withdrawal and to see what it was like. Livingstone isn't big, but dwarfs Vic Falls, on the other side of the Zambezi, by comparison. It used to be the capital of Zambia/Nyasaland before the decision was taken to move things up to Lusaka due to Malaria issues. It's a bit of a faded gem I thought and I enjoyed wandering through the local (not craft) market and peering through fences and over walls. It had an air of Melville, Johannesburg about it, with green tin roofs and paint peeling off the verandahs, but not as many walls and electric fences! I considered it much more my kind of town than say Gaborone where everything was new and a bit sterile. It is also quite green with a tropical tinge. I'm sure the mozzies would be a constant plague but it had a run-down charm to it. After a stroll about town I conducted a bit of itinerary planning, and arranged to head across the border to meet (and stay with) Brent, who I had been put in touch with via Tinks, Chloe's ex-bosses' sister. As you can tell, suitably tenuous, but any company and non-hostel board is very gratefully received. However, before that I wanted to check out the falls from the Zambian side. I took the panniers off of Tina and packed a dry bag with the bare essentials and set off for the falls. Very easy directions, but was further than I thought - about 10km. I was advised to just go in stuff that you can get wet in and then brave the soaking. Paid my entry and locked Tina up with the security guards. I spent about an hour doing the other paths - along the ridge and then down to the 'Boiling Pit' at the bottom. Saw some good birds but the little shits are impossible to photograph. I also had a stand off with a baboon. It was right on the path so I chucked a branch at it. This backfired though as it didn't move it off, it just squared up to me and we proceeded through with a macabre dance of fake lunges as I edged around it! They've got some teeth on them and I was fresh out of lumps of wood so it wasn't a very pleasant experience. Anyway, I then proceeded to the proper part - Knife Edge bridge and Rainbow Falls. You couldn't see much as the water was so high it was just spray but it was bloody loud and extremely wet. There was so much water coming down that when I decided it was safer to go barefoot on the bridge, the torrent washed my flip flop away! Luckily it wouldn't fit under the barrier, but a nervy few seconds. On the way back to the hostel to pack up and ship over to Vic Falls I came across a mini peloton of Zambians so I got on the front and formed a chain gang. I reckon even with panniers I'd have come out a comfortable winner, but unencumbered they stood no chance and were soon dropped. I then saw a John Deere with English plates so I stopped to get to the bottom of that - it was 2015 and only had 200 hours on the clock, and had been brought overland from Walvis Bay by truck. Once at the hostel I had some ham rolls and a Mosi beer, and then broke camp. I'd arranged to meet and stay with a guy called Brent Williamson who I was told was an avid cyclist and keen to meet me. To give you an idea of my continued tenuous links to hospitality Brent was put in touch with me via Tinks, who is the sister of Chloe's ex boss. Cheeky I know, but the fun of a trip like this is meeting people and putting yourself out there. So I crossed over the border, this time with some form filling, but overall without much fuss, and met Brent and his wife Annette for a couple of beers. We then moved to another bar, them by bakkie, me by Tina and met some of their clients (Brent has an excellent travel company called Adventure Zone Vic Falls). They turned out to be Danes and they stood me a beer in exchange for some photos and my website address. A fair trade I'd say, and nice to catch up with some Copenhageners seeing as I used to live there. In the evening I went to Vic Falls on the Zim side to try and catch a glimpse of the elusive 'moonbow'. For 3 days across full moon time the park opens late so punters can come and see the falls by night. At $40 it ain't cheap, but apparently it's very rare and you can't really do it anywhere else in the world, so off I went. There was quite a crowd, and initially I was pretty annoyed as it was just a bunch of morons wondering about using their cell phones as torches or taking pictures that were never going to look any good, but eventually everyone spread out and it was far more pleasant. I was loitering at the back and managed to get lost, but the moonbow was visible which was great. It doesn't photograph well, but it kind of like looking at a rainbow through a load of smoke. One for the bucket list anyway! After that Brent picked me up and we went for a game drive up Zambezi Drive. No elephant but saw a porcupine which was cool as that was a first for me, along with some kudu and impala. The next day I was up early as I was going rafting. Brent very kindly did mates rates and it was excellent fun. I was with 3 others, but they weren't a terribly interesting bunch to be honest... Except the American girl who seemed to be incapable of descending into the gorge (very scenic) without falling over every third step. Eventually I got bored of the gentlemanly enquiry of 'Are you Ok? Can I carry your paddle for you?' and took to sniggering instead. The rafting got rather real quite quickly - on the third rapid we were unceremoniously flipped over backwards and we were all in the water with an upside down raft. I think we all took a couple of dunkings, and I was underneath the raft for a bit, but overall nothing to worry about really. I think I preferred the calmer stretches really as it allowed the opportunity to stare into the murky, swirling depths rather than being doused by them. The rapids were quite fascinating in their unpredictability and it was really difficult to read what it was going to do next. After about an hour and a half of rafting it was back up to the top for a couple of cold Zambezis and a nice bit of lunch. On the way to the launch sight we turned off of the tar so I paid close attention to the condition of the dirt road as I was trying to decide what route to take to Mlibizi for the Kariba Ferry. The options were 200km of mostly dirt roads or about 260km of tar. I wanted to do the dirt but there was no denying that Tina and I make better progress on the black stuff. The road seemed manageable, and as it turns out, it was exactly that road which I would be setting out on. On the way back I dozed as it was warm and I'd been drinking beers. After rafting we went down to Brent's bit of land where he's hoping to set up an elephant interaction experience. I petted the lady elephant as she was very chilled and she came to say hello. She'd been rescued as she'd lost about a quarter of her trunk one way or another. She had a bit of a drippy schnozz but was a very pleasant beast. On the way back we saw some canned lion being taken for a walk by their rangers and some volunteers. It was quite surreal to turn the corner and see group of people walking two lions. I meowed at them out of the window. I was leaning more towards the dirt road to Mlibizi and just taking it slowly as I had 3 days to do 200km and on road I'd have done it too fast and end up twiddling my thumbs in Mlibizi. So dirt road it was! Brent and I made a plan to camp first night at the Batoka Dam site, where construction is due to start at some point in the future, African time. So after some oats and a shower I was off at about 8:30, going via the 7/11 for some lunch and miscellaneous supplies. Bit of a climb out of Vic Falls but was going along fine when I saw a snake in the road. It's hard to see exactly where your front wheel goes due to the panniers, but I circled back for a roadkill pic. It was light brown and about 2ft long - and still squirming. There was no traffic about and it had a suspiciously thin crush mark right on the head. Tina claims her first vertebrate! Now snakes and I don't mix terribly well and since that last live roadkill snake incident I've favoured caution. Not so the local coming the other way who had crossed to see what all the fuss was about. He informed me that it was a Mozambican Spitting Cobra, and then picked it up by the tail and hurled it into the bushes. A braver man than me, for sure. I mixed things up a bit by taking the dirt road after the one I'd driven on the day before as Brent said it was in better condition and joins it further along. He was right for the first 5km or so as it was hard packed mud, perfect for gliding along, and rock free. However, as it approached the village it become noticeably more sandy, and much harder going. That aside it was actually a pleasure to be cycling on dirt again, forget about the wing mirror and traffic and just plod along admiring the scenery. You must stay alert though as dirt roads like to keep you on your toes: they have the ability to change very quickly for no apparent reason and it's important on a cumbersome (Fat Lard) bike such as Tina to pick your line and keep it steady as quick manouvres are very tricky. The road chopped and changed a lot, but nowhere was it awful, as it had been for the last 30km to the Bots crossing on day 3. One thing you can say for sure is that it wasn't busy: I saw 4 vehicles all day - one abandoned/wrecked bus, a bakkie (twice, once in each direction) and a bakery truck. The dam site snuck up on me a bit. I was expecting it at about 70km so had to make sure I had plenty of water from about 60km. So at 55 I saw a village with plenty going on and enquired. I think I disturbed an important under-tree meeting as there was much huffing and eye-rolling from the speaker, but I was directed into the bush. There were a bunch of guys ostensibly working, but not really doing much, and they informed me that water must be obtained from the bush pump. How exciting! I'd already checked with Brent re water situation and he said that anything borehole you're good to go. So off I headed following one of the guys to the bush pump. They'd been laying a pipe to bring water up to a new clinic so we were straddling a freshly dug trench - which we both unceremoniously fell into at various points. Jesus sandals aren't the easiest to walk in, but I now had no choice as I'd lost one of my slops somewhere back along the road due to poor stowage. This was a severe blow, but I kept the sole remaining one in case by some magic virtue of the bush, the other might be returned to me. The bush pump was pretty cool - a modern version of those ones you sometimes see in quaint English villages with the spout and long handle. We filled my bottles (it's a two man job and you can't pump and hold the bottle as too far away. On the way back we chatted a bit and I asked the name of the village. I was expecting something unpronounceable but it turns out it's Village 55, so named after the bush pump's number. Anyway, back to the dam. I knew it was good roads as they keep it in good nick for when they decide they'd like to start building, but the turn off was at 57km, and a whopping 14km to the site. Apparently you can get water there (according to the local I quizzed) so that wasn't an issue, but I was hoping to get more under my belt on day 1, and to deviate less. With this weighing on my mind I decided to honour Brent's advice and give it a bash. I took the turning and then missed the next one. I was pretty sure I had, but decided to check as there was a car just down the road parked under the tree. It soon became apparent that I had stumbled upon a bit of bush butchery: they had a cow winched up by the hind quarters and were working away with a combination of wood saw and rusty machetes. The hide was on the floor, as were all the guts, along with a prodigious amount of shite, and about 2/3 of the carcass was shoved into the back of said car, which was lined with plastic. Flies were everywhere and there were quite a few dogs mincing about on the periphery - it certainly wasn't your 30day dry aged on the bone affair! Anyway, once I'd confirmed routing I set off again. It was certainly hilly, which heightened my apprehension. Finally, about 8km in I came to a section, that although downhill today, was so steep it had been concreted. This was the last straw, and I'm ashamed to say I bottled it. The wasted 16km were certainly annoying, but I'm glad I gave it a go and pursued the option. I had some ham and cheese sandwiches whilst on the detour, so decided to get my head down and at least knock off the requisite 66km or 1/3 of the distance. At about 90km I came into big village territory. I used bush pump number two for the day, and asked about camping. They said there was something about 12km further on, and didn't really seem to want to host me. That's fair enough, and it was easily the least nice spot I'd been through all day so I carried on. I was starting to get tired and keen to call it a day, so as the village and people started to thin out, I turned my mind to bush camping. I'd say it's a pretty quintessential part of African cycle touring and I did feel a bit of a cheat having not done it yet. So, when I lost control going down a rather rocky and unruly descent, dumping the bike, but managing to remain more-or-less upright myself, I decided that was it. I pulled off the road at the top of the hill and wheeled Tina off about 30m into the bush. I was a bit tired and fed up, but there's no denying it was a nice spot - on top of a koppie, hidden from the road in Mopani scrub. The only issue was the flies - the little shits had been plaguing me all day whenever I stopped, and were driving me mad. I was in a real rage, and boiling hot, when I figured out a plan. Get in the bloody tent! So I set the Coffin up, leaving the outer sheet off, and clambered in to catch up on my diary. I must have killed about 20 of the bastards inside the tent, and I was still pouring with sweat, but I took satisfaction from the swarm of frustrated insects on the other side of the netting. I was under siege until about 5:30, when I deemed it safe enough to emerge. I then finished setting up camp and started supper. Stove out and special bowl-pan set up, I decided to try the Millet I'd lugged 1100km from Woolies in Bryanston. I knew it would be a fairly plain affair, so chucked in 2 stock cubes. It was ok, and a bit salty (one stock cube next time I think). The view helped me persevere with the plain storage that was supper - watching the sun set, and then the stars begin to appear gradually was beautiful. I even saw a fantastic shooting star just before 6:30. I was pretty beat, so was in the tent by 7, having put the food pannier and remaining Millet (breakfast) up a tree. I didn't sleep that well to be honest, but it was a nice bush camp I must say. Was on the road by 8:30 before those goddam flies got up. It was apparent soon enough that today was going to be a struggle: I was into the wind and could tell I was suffering because I just couldn't push the big gears that I was yesterday. I had clocked a decent 106km, that is to say 90 of proper progress so I was looking forward to a chilled day of about 50-60 to take me to Msuna Island for the night. I thought that would take me about 3,5 hours, but I was struggling so much I didn't get there until about 1:45. Thankfully the last 10km were pretty much downhill, but boy were there some low points that day. I guess it must have just been nutrition as I wasn't ill or anything like that. I was probably a bit dehydrated but whatever I was putting in just wasn't fueling me. Millet is off the menu I think! I battled the 45 odd km to the turn off and had a sit down and a think. Msuna was a diversion from the route but I wanted a shower and a restaurant or shop for some decent grub and thought the only place I was likely to get that was down there as it's a popular Tiger fishing spot. I was assured by a local chap named Billy that there was loads of camping options inside, and a restaurant, but when I spoke to the camp manager Larry, I was informed that there was a no camping policy. Absolute disaster! He said I could stay in a room for $25 but the shop was shut and there was no restaurant. I was pretty exhausted anyway, and being turned away was a blow as I really wanted a shower and the chance to relax a bit, but I stuck to my guns, saying I was on a budget and not really interested in a room. I asked if I couldn't just camp in a spot out of the way, but this wasn't allowed he said. I eeked things out a bit longer before I headed back up into the village to try my luck there. I necked a couple of glasses of water and must have looked pretty sorry for myself as he then decided I could stay in a room for free and Elvis would open the shop at 5 when he was back. Msuna Island is a really beautiful spot, right in the midst of the Zambezi, scattered with very nice looking fishing bolt holes. It also has some great birdlife. Shame I didn't have any binos, but one has to travel light on the bike. I saw trumpeter hornbills picking at the figs, long tailed starlings (which are better looking than you might think) and could hear the cry of fish eagles in the distance. Elvis the shopkeeper never appeared, which wasn't the end of the world as I had some food still, but it left me short of beer for what promised to be a lovely sunset over the river. So I snuck over to Larry's with a few bucks in my pocket and asked if I could buy a couple of beers for sundowners. He wouldn't hear of it and very kindly gave me a couple of Amstels to enjoy. I rushed over to the lake, having put long sleeves and trousers on, as the sun goes quickly down here, and enjoyed the view listening to the grunts and complaints of hippo in the river. Very nice indeed! For dinner I had use of the kitchen so made rice and chili flavoured soya mince. Not great, but better than that crappy millet I had had the night before (and for breakfast). I got another early one as was tired, even though Larry very kindly said he would organise me a lift in the morning back to the 'main' dirt road. This took the pressure off a bit as the Msuna turn off was a 10km detour that would be mostly uphill the next day. I was up at 7 and informed that I could go over to the main house for a fry up. Bonus! 3 poached eggs, 4 bits of toast and some lumps of bacon later, I was shoving Tina in the back of the bakkie for Clement to take me to the T-junction. I was thankful of the leg up as I quickly came to realise that today was going to be the worst road condition of the 3 days. I was hoping it would only be about another 10-15km of dirt before I hit tar, but it turned out to be 40km. The first 20km were pretty gnarly, with a fair bit of climbing on loose sand and gravel. I suffered the ignominy of pushing a couple of times, but I was happy to have an hour in hand, and there were lots of baobabs, along with another dead puff adder, to keep things interesting. The back 20km became a lot more manageable and I began to make decent progress. When I hit the tar it was a relief to have a more consistent and smooth surface under the wheels, especially seeing as I felt I was long overdue a puncture on the rough stuff. However, I quickly came to realise that old Bob wasn't as good mates with the Chinese as some of the other African nations are. Parts of the road descended into a slalom course where Tina's agility was really put to the test. I had a good chuckle when I came across a road repair gang; about 30 guys, 15 of whom were relaxing in the shade, the balance watching 2 guys effecting repairs. Guess what they were filling the potholes with - bloody dirt! Better than nothing I suppose, and it might hold up until the rains come in October time, but it seemed a rather pointless effort to me. They gave me a good heckle, which is always appreciated. I undertook my first biscuit distribution after buying a packet of lemon cremes. I stopped for more phone credit really, but this proved to be a very complicated undertaking as the shop guy thought I was trying to pay for the biscuits with my 'Ecocash' phone wallet. The whole situation wasn't helped by the blaring music he had pumping out of full on concert speakers. I was close to losing my temper but we got there in the end. So, the biscuits. I took one for myself and then decided to be a nice guy and offer them around seeing as they hadn't been shouting 'SWEETS!' at me, as some had. The biscuits took a bit of a hammering so I had one more and decided to go for another packet. Then when I turned around there were about 20 more kids! Bit awkward, but a cyclist needs his biscuits so I shoved the other pack in my pocket and whizzed off, too ashamed to eat them in plain view. The remaining 35km of tar to Mlibizi was pretty straightforward. As I said, a lot of potholes, hot, and a bit of a headwind. I encountered a buffalo bike on the side of the road, and seeing as I am raising money for them, decided to stop for a pic. I'd seen one guy in Zambia on one, who looked like he either didn't need one, or had done very well for himself since receiving this 'personal industrial revolution'. Let's hope the latter. Anyway, I took one pic, and then the proprietor sauntered out of the bush. I was looking forward to a conversation with him, and being lavished with praise for being such a generous guy. As it turned out, he was a bit of an arsehole: he wanted $3 for a photo, wasn't at all interested in my fundraising, and ended by asking for food. I cycled off indignantly as this chap certainly wasn't getting any biscuits! I then stopped with about 10km to go and ate the rest of yesterday's soya mince and rice. I was hopeful of blagging lunch at the B&B but decided I had more chance of that if I didn't pitch up and eat my own stuff. It also allowed me to play the waiting game better. Caz, a Zim contact (from Ant again) has set this up for me, and the deal was $25 for dinner and a bed, which was pretty reasonable. I followed Rose's instructions and took driveway 107 past a decent-sized baobab (they're everywhere in this part of the country, and very cool) and announced myself. Both Don & Rose were lovely, and made me feel right at home straight away. Their property was what I envisage a proper African retreat to be - tin roof, single storey, concrete floors and a huge verandah looking onto the (Mlibizi, a tributary of the Zambezi) river. Rose was baking some bread rolls, which smelled amazing (and duly remarked upon). They very kindly offered me lunch too, and I gratefully accepted. I ate about 5 rolls and all the trimmings, but tried to spread it out so I didn't look like too much of a glutton. Then I just relaxed, chatting to them and sitting on the raft with the binos watching the wildlife. It was in the course of conversation that I discovered that those goddam flies were Mopani flies, and are a general scourge wherever Mopani trees are growing. At 5 we started on the beers, and I tried out a few 'Eagles' - a local sorghum brew. Not bad, I must say, and dinner was both delicious and very filling. We ended with a game of darts (me using the Union Jack arrows) and came close to not losing. Something inside the mozzie net that night (which I could hear so was cowering away from) zapped me on the forehead and made me swell up for some reason. The next day it was up at a sociable hour, and a short pedal down to the ferry dock. When I arrived they were busy loading the overlanding trucks of a big party of Afrikaaners. I'd heard the ferry was struggling so it was nice to see a full boatload. I got bought a beer immediately, which I wasn't really looking for, but they thought I was well hard because I was a mad cyclist, and there was patriotic pride at stake. We got underway at about 10am and the journey would last 22 hours, taking us eastwards about 300km to Kariba, the head of the lake where the dam (opened in 1952 I think) is situated. The ferry was good fun, and after a nice 1,5 nap on the aft deck after a very respectable lunch, we stopped motors for the traditional (optional) Zambezi dunk. About 5 of us (no Dutchmen) took the plunge, and it was very pleasant drifting about in the Zambezi far enough offshore not to worry about crocs or hippos. Then it was sundowners followed by dinner and bed about 10ish, sleeping outside on the deck as the wind and moving water mean no mozzies. At $130 the ferry was certainly an extravagance, but a very pleasant experience. It also doesn't feel like cheating in the same way that getting a lift does. The next morning there was a good breakfast and we docked at about 7:30. I hadn't been feeling great in the saddle sore department as 2,5 days of dirt roads weren't kind to my posterior, aside from costing me my slops (annoying), battery pack (not ideal) and my foam seat cushion (disaster). For that reason I decided that I would take it easy, go and peer at the Kariba dam, get some shopping in, and try and get Tina serviced. Kizito the bike mechanic soon (ish) arrived with his tool kit, but he had no Bottom Bracket wrench to take off, clean and regrease the BB as I wanted to do. He wanted to attack it with all sorts of implements but it was serviceable so told him not to gippo it and leave her alone. I then trundled up to the dam and had a look around. Not quite as cool as the Katse Dam in Lesotho but certainly rather impressive. I then proceeded to one campsite, Warthogs, which was deserted and had no wifi, so I moved on to the more expensive Lomagundi. I saw quite a few zebra on my 10km or so to the campsite, and I've been warned by a few people about Lions for the ride to Makuti tomorrow so let's see what happens. Tomorrow will be about 80km with quite a lot of climbing as I am ascending from lake level up to the top of the escarpment apparently. Today I've been a bit mopey again, and wonder if I've got myself into too much of an adventure, but I often get like this when not cycling when I think about how far I've still got to go. Getting proper food is becoming a bit tiresome and it's quite annoying having to think about it so much when there's a lot of other stuff going on. My foray into the more local food left me rather weak and useless, so I need to try and either avoid it, or wean myself onto it. That said, things have gone well so far, and although the supermarket I went to in town today was a bit of a dump and underwhelming, I did go into the local market and emerge with everything intact, bearing some $1 slops to replace my ipanemas. Quite a long update, but that brings you up to speed I think. Hopefully I don't get eaten tomorrow and with some more miles under my belt I'll feel better.
1 Comment
Ian Bowland
18/5/2017 11:46:28 am
Sounding fantastic! Like the idea of the Zambezi Dunk and sleeping on deck. Hope the lions don't cause probs tomorrow
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AuthorSam Brook - A mildly Africanised Pom about to cycle from Joburg to Nairobi. Archives
August 2017
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