November 5, 2023 by foonbikeride

The Great Dividing Trail

It’s been a while. I have decided to start recording our adventures again. As much for my own sake as for wider reading. Perhaps I can inspire adventures closer to home. And there is so much adventure to be had. All it requires is a little shift in thinking and some curiosity.

Many people ask if we will do a big bike trip again. The answer is a resounding YES. It is possible, if our circumstances were different, that we’d be on the road again now. Perhaps with Clo in Canada. We don’t know what our life would look like if our family situation was different.

What I do know is even if things are a little hard, and we don’t have the freedom we necessarily had before, the best thing has been to actively choose to be here. It has helped us make a life here – we know we will one day pedal the world again but for now we are (mostly) embracing settled life.

How does that look for two freedom loving cyclists?

Mostly barefooted, with dirt on our hands, chickens in our laps and books of permaculture and poetry scattered around the porch. Our aim is simple – to learn how to grow organic food and lessen our impact on this earth. To make rather than buy, swap rather than sell and to create community resilience rather than self sufficiency. It’s a messy work in progress but will keep our souls fulfilled until the open road is an option once again.

Barbara chicken loves a lap plus cauliflower growing joy

In the mean time there are always micro adventures to be had and that brings me back to the actual purpose of this post: The Great Dividing Trail.

This is a walking/biking track that runs from Bendigo in Central Victoria to either Bacchus Marsh, or Mount Buninyong. It essentially joins a network of different trails to form one continuous track. We had already ridden most of the northern section on a previous trip, so chose to ride Castlemaine to Bacchus Marsh. Initially we had planned to ride the Otway Rip, but with 7mm of rain forecast for that part of Victoria, we decided on the much drier region of Central Vic.

I like to think that all good bike trips start with a train journey these days. The deal is sweetened by Vline’s $10 to anywhere in the state. We squeezed the bikes into the allocated bike space, sneakily opened a craft beer and relaxed for the hour and a half it took to be deposited in Castlemaine. Upon leaving the train we had the good fortune of running into Huw from Commuter Cycles. Commuter has been our bike shop since the very beginning and Huw now lives in Castlemaine and gave us great info on where we could wild camp and the trail ahead.

First however, we needed to check out the brewery. It was a lovely balmy spring evening and tacos and sour beers were the perfect way to begin our adventure. As the light faded we cycled through the outskirts of Castlemaine and into the bush. We navigated the single track for as long as possible until it got too dark and then made camp.

**delicious sour beers** **before the beginning of the ride**

**Found this in the dark, it was so easy to wild camp**.

The trail up this end is called the Dry Diggings Track and is part of the Gold Fields Track/Great Dividing Trail. It winds its way through the bush, from the dry plains and remnants of gold diggings around Castlemaine to the temperate forests closer to Daylesford. There is much single track, which is stunning to ride, when its rideable. I went from pedalling along, enjoying the scenery to slipping on rocks and pushing. A lot. It’s harder riding than we are used to: more technically demanding, which is difficult at best with loaded bikes. While I have changed my set up a bit, Astrid was still riding with 4 panniers, which made the narrow tracks look even more difficult. Luckily she is a lot more skilled than me! There were times when we had to take all our bags off, and times when one of us had to push the others bike in order to drag it up a dry river embankment. It was tough going, but what we gained from our sweating and pushing was remote bush riding with no people and no cars. It was delightful. This is what I am looking for more now. I have ridden on enough highways to know that it’s not what I fancy, especially on these shorter trips. These days I really long for wildness even more than before.

The first few hours; single track, ruins, forest and cute old buildings.

Our first day of riding gave us a mix of single track and small roads, rain and sun. We ate lunch at some mineral springs and hid from a storm under a pergoda. We saw almost no-one and in the afternoon we made camp beside the track, miles from anyone. It was truly peaceful. I built us a fire and we cooked our homemade dehydrated meal on it and went to bed just after dark. The rhythm of the old life does not take long to return.

Forest riding and pushing, flap jack snacks and a campfire to end the day. Perfect.

We woke to moody skies and continued on the single track towards Hepburn. It was hard going because unlike a lot of the riding we had done, your thoughts can’t wonder as freely and you cannot relax because the trail demands you pay attention. Otherwise the next annoyingly placed rock might take you out. Eventually we rolled into Hepburn for coffee and toast with one of Astrid’s friends, which was wonderful. Revitalised we rode the back roads into Daylesford just in time for the weather to really come in. Sheets of rain fell and the clouds hung low in the sky. We resupplied and then went and hid in a bougie cafe and had batch brews and fancy toasties. The joys of having a more relaxed budget.

Batch brew and damp trail riding

With a break in the rain we decided to make a run for it and head south and east on the Lerderderg Track. Somehow we ended up on something that was much more a walking track which culminated in some steep steps we had to awkwardly manoeuvre our bicycles down. For a while we persisted on the walking/mountain bike track through the forest as fronts of rain greeted us, then passed onwards. However, something I haven’t yet mentioned was that the dirty salmon (Astrid’s trusted bike) which had probably travelled in excess of 50,000km was on her last outing. She had unfortunately sustained rust damage and had been deemed unsafe in the long run. Especially on bumpy, rocky single track which just happened to be the medium I had chosen. So we compromised and chose a dirt road which more or less paralleled much of the track through the Wombat State Forest. The riding was quite delightful, especially after all the bouts of walking and pushing.

Muddy trails, then dirt roads through Wombat State forest

By the early evening we had reached the Lerderderg River and decided to call a well placed pergoda home for the night. It was supposed to be a day use area but we couldn’t pass up the prospect of a shelter in the rainy weather. So we pitched our tent under the shelter and cracked a whiskey for happy hour. Later I was able to build us a fire and we had another super evening in the bush.

This is luxury on the road – a dry place to pitch a tent on a wet day, a fire and whiskey.

Sadly our peace was ruined by the arrival of a group of people at around 4am. It took us a while to figure out what they were doing – prospecting for gold. This involved lots of banging and was pretty annoying. We conceded defeat and rose early and watched them attempt to light a fire about 5 times which included pouring a heap of petrol on said fire. Leaving our unwanted neighbours we rode through the beautiful Lerderderg state forest and gorge. It was really stunning riding and the environment had markedly changed from the dry plains we had come from. At Blackwood we indulged in more toasties before briefly hitting the bitchumen and then the last of the Lerdergerg track.

Through Lederderg, Blackwood and beyond.

This section of the track sits high above Bacchus Marsh and consists of mostly rideable 4WD track (some is impossibly steep). It’s a wonderful ride through dry forest, with some sweeping views. The last part comprised of an epic descent into Bacchus on sealed road. We were flying! All good bike trips preferably end with a brewery and we were lucky enough to find such a place, not far from the railway station. It sold craft beer and was having a jam session. So we settled in for a few beverages and some great tunes (which we sang along to).

The last part of the trail, more rideable with some great views down to Bacchus Marsh.

While this is not the first bike trip we’ve done since we’ve returned, I hope it’s the beginning of more frequent small adventurous outings in our state. There really is so much to see.

Beers to finish the ride

Since returning from our long adventure, there are a few things Astrid and I are changing. Our set up is becoming slightly more towards a bike packing one – that is less reliance on just panniers and more bags lashed onto our frame. This is to make the rougher tracks we want to ride a bit easier. We also don’t need to carry as much gear, so being slightly more light weight makes sense too. We’ve also gone plastic free. We want to eventually go completely waste free but we’re not set up enough for this yet. Also this is something that probably couldn’t be done on a prolonged tour. But on a few days to a few weeks, it’s totally possible. We dehydrate all our own meals and resupply only with items not wrapped in plastic. Sadly lots of our old favourites are out. But it feels right to us and the challenge is exciting. A bit like switching to a mainly plant based diet a few years ago – it requires some mental arithmetics and creativity. And the occasional need to compromise. Finishing up a trip carrying no rubbish is pretty liberating.

Other than these few things, we travel more or less the same; we value tasty food over being light weight, meandering trails over the highways, sipping craft brews, meeting locals, great chats and really good coffee.

Till our next small adventure.

love

jude

March 5, 2023 by foonbikeride

Homecoming

Adelaide to Melbourne (nov-dec 2019)

I am not sure why it has taken me over 3 years to write the final instalment of our adventure.

Perhaps it’s because the world changed, and our entire journey was suddenly so far from anything we could dream of doing. Or maybe it’s just that home comings are hard to write about. It felt a bit too raw and too new when I first arrived back.

A few weeks after our return vast areas of Australia were on fire, Melbourne was shrouded in smoke, and I did not possess the calm and reflective qualities it takes to write a home coming post.

And then it was March 2020 and Astrid and I, like all health care professionals, were swept up in a tide of need that continues to this day.

But I will try now to bring the last few weeks of our journey into focus, because it deserves to be told. And I hate unfinished projects.

We landed in Adelaide after a short stint in Singapore (enough to gorge ourselves on street food). Unfortunately, I hadn’t cleaned my bike as well as I thought I had, and Australian Customs had a field day with my dusty gear. There was a lot of unpacking and disapproving looks, but finally we were granted entry into Australia. We were both shattered from the long flight but had to put our bikes together before pedalling into the city. The difference of the drivers was immediate. As was the price in coffee. We rejoiced over different things, from the small to the more fundamental; public BBQ’s, public toilets, public taps, cared for public spaces and being able to ride home at night.

Our first few days were spent recovering and orientating ourselves with friends Michael and Phil. After the initial thrill of being ‘home’ wore off I felt somewhat morose. Perhaps it was that suburban Adelaide wasn’t quite doing it for me, or the sense that our journey was ending, or a feeling of disconnection from the land (I longed a little for England in the days just after arriving back). Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the blues. Years as a cycle traveller however had taught me, not only are these feelings temporary, but that movement helps.

Enjoying public infrastructure and the return of the public BBQ. (and the train game!)

There is something about the stroke of a pedal, the feeling of wind on your face and the sense that you are going somewhere that helps the joy return. This was enhanced by being able to cycle out of Adelaide on predominantly bike paths and then camp in some bush land. It was here in the familiar setting of the post ride day – tent set up and us sitting on the ground chopping veggies, that I really began to feel like I had landed. With the golden light filtering through the eucalyptus leaves and a cacophony of sunset bird noises (Australia really is a bit like living in a zoo) I felt like I could breathe. It was all familiar scents and sounds, if somewhat novel. I have always felt a strong sense of connection to land and place, and here, in the bush it felt like some reconnection to this country had begun.

Back on the road – out of Adelaide on bicycle paths and into Mclaren Vale for wine and wild camping

What followed were blissful holiday pedalling days in which we visited the wineries of McClaren Vale, dumpster dived for BBQ lunch and camped in lovely hidden spots. Our first destination was Kangaroo Island, where we took the world’s most expensive ferry by distance, to meet the wonderful Liz and Scott. Anyone who has been following our blog for a while will recall these amazing wandering wallies had pedalled the Oodnadatta track back in 2013 and our paths had crossed in Mataranka, where we had shared days off and a tub of ice-cream.

Now we were finally visiting them in their lovely lagoon side bush property. We caught up on the years over home brew and delicious meals. Liz and Scott kindly lent us one of their cars and we were able to explore the island in ways we wouldn’t have otherwise been able to, given some time constraints. We camped and swam, sampled brews, and hiked many trails. Sadly, much of what we saw was to burn ferociously in the 2019/2020 fires in a few months’ time. With hindsight it now feels that both with the fires and covid looming on the horizon that we were seeing out the last months of a different world

Exploring KI by car: wineries, beaches, hikes, cool rocks and beer.

We left KI refreshed and ready for the cycle east. It is a strange time as you near the end of a journey, you know everything is about to change, but it remains quite unfathomable. Our days were still spent pedalling, stopping in towns to scout their dumpsters, or buy cheap goods from Aldi. At night, we slept on the edge – hidden in a park, some bushland, or if we were lucky a free camp. One day we were baked in 40 degrees plus, followed promptly by rain and jackets the next day.

In time we reached the Coorong, derived from the aboriginal word karangk which means ‘narrow neck’. It has been home to the Ngarrindjeri people for thousands of years who have cared for its lands and waters. Now a national park, it forms part of the Murray River mouth and is a vast expanse of lagoons, sand dunes, wetlands, and beaches. Beautiful and desolate in the best possible way, with mind blowing sunsets and excellent camping it was paradise for two nature loving bike travellers. I felt myself to really begin to fall back in love with the land; there was so much wildness and room to breathe.

We celebrated Astrid’s birthday here and the very next day bumped into the swag family. It is not often you find two fully loaded tandems resting on an embankment on a mostly deserted road in Australia! This inspiring family (Nicola, and Andrew along with kids Hope and Wilfy) had cycled around Australia and like us were on their last few weeks of their trip. We immediately connected and shared lunch behind a bush next to the road, followed by deciding to cycle together for the next few days. It is always such a joy meeting up with like-minded cycling folk and we had much to chat about. It was a joy to share the road with such a super family.

From the Coorong we raced eastwards towards the border and the Glenelg river. Here we spent a lovely few nights catching up with Ki, going for walks and swimming in the river. While the Glenelg borders Victoria, it is so far west, Astrid and I hadn’t previously spent much time there. It’s always a joy to have old friends meet us on the road and a nice way to ease back into being on home soil.

And then, just like that we were back in our home state Victoria. The end really was closing in. Through state forest, farmland and finally a rail trail we continued eastward, excited for what lay ahead but also savouring this slow life. The weather caught at one point, and we sheltered from fronts in bus stops until just before Warrnambool we found a delightful camp with our old favourite of a table and even a little shelter. It was our last night alone of our entire journey (as we were meeting friends to cycle with) and it felt like an apt place to mark an ending.

The following day we pedalled along the rest of the Port Fairy to Warrnambool rail trail and made ourselves at home in the luxury of the big 4 caravan park while the weather outside raged a little. Our friends Erica and Daniel (from London) were scheduled to arrive on the afternoon train and cycle the remainder of the journey with us. It was bloody lovely to see them both. Erica and I had last hung out in Athens which seemed like such a lifetime ago. Later we all met up with the Swag Family (who had rolled into Warrnambool a few hours after us) for a last dinner before our ways parted.

It’s always slightly stressful to take the uninitiated on a bike tour (Daniel had never been cycle touring before). Especially one that had a time schedule and less then ideal weather. However, as we all pushed off into the gusty and intermittently rainy day, I felt positive; the energy was good, and we were all ready for some adventure and prepared to support each other.

There was an early flat, some sheltering from the rain, epic views, some ninja dancing, and the perfect campsite to end the day. A good start to our cycle gang of 4.

The following day proved slightly more challenging. It was cold and windy, with fronts of rain and a long climb at the end of the day with no suitable camp spot to be found. Both Astrid and I were jumping off the bike and scouting desperately in the fading light. Behind us I felt Daniel was understandably ready to call it quits. Erica was stoic but after 24 hours of travel and now 2 days of cycling I felt like they both must be utterly exhausted. Finally, we managed to squeeze into a pine plantation and find enough space to put up our tents. To try and make up for the slightly miserable day Astrid and I cooked us all curry and delivered it to them in bed.

A few remaining apostles and a beautiful ride on a small road

The following day I got up before dawn and left to race to Apollo Bay to meet my parents. It was an epic ride and one where I pushed myself to go fast and only take short breaks. The scenery was utterly delightful; tree ferns, mist, small gullies and sweeping views out to sea. Hugging mum and dad felt epic. Wow, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Sure, we’d visited a few times while away, but this felt different, it was a homecoming. We shared lunch and then the others rolled into town in excellent spirits. Erica and Daniel had smashed the epic climb, seen koalas and everyone was in top form. Beers followed and then we all went to the little cabin we had rented, and Daniel cooked us a delicious Italian meal.

Holiday mode then ensued. The weather picked up and the biggest days of pedalling were behind us. It was more slow mornings, swim stops, and afternoon beers and less homeless in a pine planation kind of vibe. We met another friend, Rich who took us to an amazing place to camp on the property he was living on. This coincided with mine and Astrid’s 10-year anniversary and we celebrated with a long meandering breakfast where Astrid gave me the most thoughtful homemade gift she had managed to somehow create on the road. What an amazing decade it has been alongside this strong, creative, and compassionate human.

As we meandered along the great ocean road it struck me how different this road was on the bicycle. In theory this was my backyard. I’d driven it countless times, camped in the surrounds, surfed, stopped for coffees and beers. But it felt as if I was seeing it for the first time because riding it felt much more intimate and meaningful. I felt like I didn’t know it at all. It was a rediscovering of a familiar place on a different level.

Our last wild camp was in the bush with a fire and a great Italian meal and a glass of red. Perfect. Then it was off to Anglesea to meet my friend Alice on the beach with her kids for fish and chips. Pablo, who’d ridden with us out of Melbourne long ago in 2013 also rocked up on his bike, followed by Kev who was also part of the original day one crew. Together we all cruised into Torquay and then on to Pablo’s place in Barwon Heads. Tony, Bree and River – friends from London who had moved to Ocean Grove also dropped in and it was a beautiful mesh of worlds; our life before London colliding sweetly with our London loved ones. What a fabulous, heartfelt evening. It was hard to grasp that the next day was the final day of this chapter of our lives.

It felt surreal as we packed up our tents the following morning, caffeinated ourselves, munched some food and pushed off. Astrid was our navigation beacon and did a fabulous job as we wound out of Barwon Heads, into Geelong and out the other side. We rode through industrial estates, bike paths and roads parallel to the highway. At one point we contemplated cutting through the Werribee shit farm (it was the way one of our mapping apps suggested) but thought better of it due to the likelihood of coming across locked gates. We slipped into greater Melbourne on the bike path that follows the freeway, it was hard to capture the sign, but it felt significant. At Werribee itself we stopped for ice-creams – it was a warm day and we had been on the road for hours. Still, we pushed on as a little group of cyclists who probably didn’t look like they were at an end of a significant journey. Pablo met us somewhere in the western suburbs, having ridden from a family event in Melbourne. It all became gradually familiar the closer we got and then as we crested a bridge the city spread out before us. It felt like we had arrived. We took a moment.

From there it was not long before we were pedalling passed the Zoo and met by Misch and YK with champagne and fanfare. We hugged and laughed, and it was delightful. Our crew grew bigger as we rode the familiar bike path through our old haunts of East Brunswick, Fitzroy and Northcote. At St Georges Road we turned north (how many times have I cycled this path?!) and wound our way through the familiar streets of Thornbury.

Collectively we rolled down Gooch St and there they all were spilling out from Tanja’s home onto the street with champagne, noise, and laughter. We were engulfed with love and hugs, and it felt amazing. We were home. Tens of thousands of kms behind us, continents crossed, mountains traversed, London lives lived. We were home. A few kilometres from where we had left from in the same suburb. Our loved ones surrounding us. It was utterly surreal, delightful, overwhelming.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of this adventure. So much love xxx Jude and Astrid

Arrival video (:

January 21, 2021 by foonbikeride

The final leg south

We rolled across the border in the afternoon and talked ourselves out of cycling further. Instead we made camp at a caravan park within site of the border post. Although we had bade Franz farewell back in Namibia, turned out we needed one more night of hanging out. He rocked up with wine and some story of having to go South Africa to pick up a part for his pump. We settled in for one last night.

And oof, did climbing all the next day hurt with a hangover. We both became a bit teary (not from the hangover) when we saw the sign that stated Cape Town was 678km away. To think about how far we’ve come, well it’s hard to even comprehend. The day was tough going; with a head wind as well as the hangover and climbs, and we were super grateful when i overlander helped us find a very nice local homestay in Steinkopf.

Throughout all of Africa we had heard that hands down, South Africa was going to be our most dangerous country. The violence of the crime here is notorious and we had certainly been told the odd horror story. However, we had also been told that the West Coast would more or less be okay. There was certainly an edginess immediately apparent as we parked our bikes by the supermarket in Steinkopf, but other than a few annoying men asking us for money, everything was fine. Then we met some ladies who were utterly delightful, and it just felt like we were anywhere in Africa.

The big surprise for us in South Africa was that it was actually cold! For the first time in months, we were piling on our jackets and huddling together at highway rest stops, feeling perplexed by the sensation.

Undulations, cold and headwind made the N7 a bit of a slog for the first few days. We felt unsure of camping too, given everything we had been told. It felt hard to get our heads around this new country, and where to place our safety in it. One night we had planned to camp, but due to the wind and end of the day climbing we were still out on the road near dusk, having not found anywhere suitable. A kind couple, Willem and Anne-Marie, rocket up in a ute, piled our bikes in and took us to their home. We were given their grown up kids beds to sleep in, cooked a braai (BBQ) and treated with immense kindness. It was a look into a world we know very little about, with people we perhaps wouldn’t ordinarily converse with, nor have very much in common. Warmth and hospitality however speaks volumes and we were so humbled.

After a few more days on the N7 we were finally able to turn off towards the Atlantic. This also involved a rather intense section into an even more ferocious headwind where it felt like we were never going to get anywhere. However, when we finally glimpsed the Atlantic, it was pretty special. We had now cycled from one side of Africa to the other.

Things got even better when we pushed off into the coastal scrub and camped right by the beach. In the morning we swam naked in the crashing Atlantic as the sun rose and felt so fucking alive. This for me is what life is about.

From here on in, South Africa really showed her true awesomeness. We were able to meander along roads that were closed to through traffic (private railway access roads) and even splurged on a fancy lunch and wine by the ocean. In a way it felt like we were on holiday, or a long wind down from the road. Most of the challenges traditionally faced when cycling in faraway lands had ceased to exist. Everyone spoke english, the roads were well maintained, water was mostly easy to find, there were shops and pubs and rest stops. Supermarkets were back on the scene in a big way and everything worked and was pretty familiar. This is not really what I look for when I go out on an adventure, but it’s also not a bad thing. We decided to embrace it, and from our fancy lunch cycled to another idyllic seaside village and enjoyed a beer as the sun set.

Aside from rocking up into a town where everything was shut as there had been a riot, our days were pretty uneventful. We always managed to find somewhere safe to sleep, wether it was a campground, or in a courtyard with a peacock watching over us.

And soon it transpired that we were only a day out from Cape Town. It was a straight ride into the city from where we were…Or we could just go check out the cute little micro brewery just over the hill… Enough random people in the cafe we were lunching in (and yes, we are now those kind of cycle tourists) told us enthusiastically that we must go to Darling Brewery. And Neil (remember Neil who we had cycled with in China, Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan?!) had also said it would be an abomination to miss it.

So without a plan, except to drink a few good brews, we turned off the main road and headed into Darling. It was one of those days where I just knew it would all work out. We loved the town and the brewery immediately, and after a pint I mustered up the courage to ask the owner Kev, if we could perhaps bed down on his amazing astro turf (we’d been eying up all the places we could potentially sleep the minute we got there). He said yes. Then Russel and Camila joined our table and after explaining our story we were invited for dinner with everyone and to camp in their backyard (they offered inside, but we wanted one more night in our faithful tent Meredith).

We could not have had better last night. Our new friend’s were the most delightful and engaging of soul’s and we had the most wonderful night. A true gem right at the end of our epic journey, and so beautifully telling and typical of how life on the road has treated us.

I hardly slept that last night, waking excited before dawn. Today we would finish our pedal through Africa. The weight of the continent that we had cycled thus far lay behind us. All those sunsets, sunrises, bush huts, laughing kids, kindness, amazing fauna and prickly flora, the mountains, deserts, cities and the African sky. It was all now really about to start drawing to a close. Not only was this the end of our Africa pedal, we were one step closer to being back on Australian soil. To being home. Whatever that meant.

Another thing that had woken me, was the wind. And it was not in our favour. We left as early as we could, having just met all these lovely people, we kind of just wanted to stay and chat. However, the road really was calling us. Neil would be waiting in a bar for us on the waterfront at 2pm. And we wanted to be there.

At first we made good time, undulating through farmland back to main road. Our first glimpse of Table Mountain made our morning. This was happening. Once back on the highway, and especially when we began following the bike path into Cape Town along the water, the wind began smashing us. As we pedalled closer, we could see Table Mountain, and even the city, but it never seemed to get any closer. The coast taunted us as we had a perfect view of how far we still had to go. Our time to meet Neil came and went. We pedalled on in frustration. Finally, after several hours of battling the wind, we were enough in the city to be somewhat sheltered. It became easier. Then with 4km to go, the Dirty Salmon thought she’d have one last laugh with a flat tyre. We were so tired and so close to having cycled from Cairo to Cape Town that we could only laugh. Flat fixed, I had one more opportunity to take us the long way around, which I did. But then, we were finally pedalling and pushing through the crowds on the water front towards that iconic table mountain sign. The one where we had seen the likes of Craig and Clo and Tristan post their photos only a few short weeks before us.

And there was Neil! Our brother from long ago China, with whom we had shared so many miles and so many months. After leaving us, way back at Vero’s In Dushanbe, Neil had cycled through Iran and Turkey before heading south to Africa. He had cycled all the way back to his home and had been waiting for us ever since. Well, not quite, but we were bloody happy to see teabitch in the flesh once more. Hugs ensued. Followed by the obligatory photo on the sign, on which strangely was placed a tub of hummus.. And then Israa jumped out from behind, with a sign and a huge grin on her face. She’s been trying to lure us hippies with the hummus. Much hugging and happiness. Followed by beer. I felt elated and it also felt surreal. Big moments take some time to sink in, to form into a a reality.

What a moment
So much joy! Note the hummus under our feet!
Brilliant
A well earned beer with Neil and Israa

After a few brews on the waterfront, we all piled into Neil’s car and drove to his parent’s house. They had kindly offered to host us as Neil and his partner had just had a baby and there wasn’t quite enough room for two festy cycle tourists. Neil’s parents, Karen and Dave, were absolutely delightful and we were so spoiled. Not only that night but for the many days we spent with them.

We spent the evening eating delicious food, drinking wine and reminiscing with Neil. It didn’t quite feel real that we had finished, that we were indeed in Cape Town.

After a good nights sleep it was time to explore. Cape Town is an absolutely gorgeous city and we were keen to get in amongst it. Plus we had more than a few friends to catch up with. The next week or so was a whirlwind of socialising and exploring. We hiked up Table Mountain (twice), picnicked in the botanical gardens with our friend Christine from the long ago Camino, and gorged on food we hadn’t seen for months (felafel for one). Neil took us to a secret local spot and we drank beer in a cave, watching the sunset and the stunning coastline. Miranda and Garth who we had met in Zambia utterly spoiled us with food, wine, hikes and penguins. The guys from Drifter Brewery who we had met in Botswana welcomed us with open arms and we drank their brews overlooking table mountain and talked and laughed and then went to a psych trans party. One day Christine took us out to Stellenbosch and we marvelled at the beautiful vineyards and the utterly perfect Spring day. Linda and Neil, who had gifted us the wine in Namibia happened to live around the corner from Dave and Karen, and we went there for dinner too. We had some bike maintenance done and tried to spend as much time with Israa as well. From all sides people showered us with kindness and hospitality and we were so grateful and humbled.

So happy we could catch up with Christine

Time went rapidly and it was soon time to pack our bikes into boxes, ready for the Shosholoza Meyl train to Johannesburg. This train would allow us to see vast areas of South Africa on our second favourite mode of transport. As all flights out of Cape Town go via Jo’burg anyway, this was the perfect solution to avoiding a flight and we had one more friend to visit. Fanus, who we had met on the banks of the Mekong in Laos back in 2013. He had kept in touch the whole time with an open invitation to come visit. So visit we did.

Lots of these stickers around. Go mama Tina!

Dave dropped us and our packed bikes (not to be unpacked again until Adelaide) at the station and the next leg of our journey began. Of course we had to argue our bikes onto the train, despite having read all terms and conditions and thus knowing we were allowed to bring them. There’s almost always a hassle, but we were used to this kind of thing by now, and once we’d talked to the manager our bikes were put on the train without further drama. We then went off to find our carriage, which was awesome. Naturally we’d taken a cheap option, but we still had our own beds and little carriage. It was all my train fantasies coming true. What was even more amazing was that Kev, the owner of Darling Brewery, had dropped off an esky full of beers for us to drink on the train. South Africans really do take generosity to the next level. It was time to settle in and enjoy the journey. And enjoy we did. We napped, read, chatted, drank beers and stared out at the wild expanse of the Karoo. It is indeed a beautiful country.

Our train got into Johannesburg 5 hours late but we didn’t care. This is Africa after all. Fanus was there to meet us and we had a joyful reunion. Then it was off to meet his family. We felt very welcome and had a wonderful last few days, which included exploring Soweto, the Apartheid museum, a water park, the cradle of civilisation museum and a few of Fanus’s other favourite spots.

And just like that our time in South Africa drew to a close. We both had truly enjoyed our time, it had in many way been the perfect wind down with socialising, friends and familiarity. South Africa has many similarities to Australia which is in equal parts disturbing as it is comforting. Both countries have brutal colonial histories (as do most on the African continent) with a deep inequality and trauma running throughout. It is perhaps more overt in South Africa and thus more unsettling. There is an underlying energy that felt to us unnerving at times. The constant vigilance surrounding safety is exhausting, as is the visual evidence of poverty and inequality on the landscape. Being wooshed around in a 4WD, protected and shielded from the outside, felt unnatural. Yet it is unfair of me to be too harsh on South Africa, considering where we come from. Our own colonial history is a bloodbath of barely acknowledged massacres and frontier wars.

I loved the beauty and the people of South Africa. It is the place that brought up a lot of feelings and thoughts, which is good. You can’t forget your privilege there and it is something that we should examine constantly. And that’s the thing, while there is a lot of inequity and shit stuff going on, there is also a lot of hope. So many of our friends and people we met are doing amazing things. As one friend said: it’s about recognising your privilege and being part of the solution.

The end of South Africa also meant the completion of 10 months on the African continent. We have both fallen in love with Africa, and will be back. It is a diverse, beautiful and incredible place. More hopeful and complex than most people who have never visited seem to believe, and Africans are some of the kindest and humblest people we have ever met. On the whole we have felt incredibly safe and welcomed and have had a blast. From the drinking tea on the side of the road with the habibis in Egypt, to sleeping by pyramids in the Sudan, waking to zebras outside our tent in Kenya, to munching fresh pineapple on the side of the road in Tanzania, climbing high into the hills in Malawi, sleeping in a school in Zambia, laughing with new friends in Zimbabwe to the elephant highway in Botswana, apple cake in Namibia and hikes up Table Mountain. Africa really has given us so much and one day we will return.

October 11, 2020 by foonbikeride

A tough cycle through the desolate beauty of Namibia

Namibia is a vast country of harsh beauty, desert, mountains, heat, and a wild coast littered with skeletons (of whales and ships, but mainly whales). Human habitation dates back far into prehistory, colonisation came in the form of Germany (trying to get into the empire game?) and with it the horrors of genocide. After the defeat of Germany in world war one, it fell into South African hands and thus lived through the dark days of apartheid. In 1990 it became an independent nation and what exists now appeared to us rather eclectic.

Towards Windhoek
Feels like the outback
Deserted train shop
Camping at a rest stop

Out of all the counties in Africa I have been to, it is Namibia that felt both the most familiar, and the most confusing. Because it felt a little like both the cultural identities I have grown up with. And it is also clearly, very much Africa; the people were as kind, hospitable and welcoming as they had been all over the continent, maize was the staple, the wildlife as wonderful as ever.

We almost always cooked on a fire

However, it was also the strangest mix of Germany and Australia I have ever encountered. It looks and feels like the outback; the open skies, kilometres of nothingness, large cattle stations with kind but tough farmers, the peculiar villages which appear to have a similar socio-economic and substance abuse issues as back home, and even the road houses and pubs felt like they’d been pulled from northern Australia somewhere.

The one time we climbed a fence to camp
Like all of Africa for us, police stations offer prime camping. This one even had a bar.
End of the day stories
Lunch

Then there was the rather peculiar German aspect, which you catch sight of every now and then; an older lady chatting in German in a deli which mirrors any deli I’ve ever been to in Germany, local ladies dressed in traditional 19th century German attire (I told you it was weird!) and German brew pubs.

In Namibia we felt so comfortable. The kind of comfort one gets when you know at the end of the day there is really nobody around. Not everyone finds space a comfort, but I do. I like nothing more than a starlit sky, a campfire and the feeling that no other human is nearby. And we had so much of that. Many of our friends talked of the endless fencing of Namibia and it’s true; most of the country is fenced, strangely. They spoke of having to lift their bikes over at the end of each day and push out into the bush or desert, away from the road. We did this the first night, but found it so cumbersome we never did it again. Nor did we cook on our stove. Most nights we lit a fire, and often we didn’t even pitch the tent. Our days ended by simply rolling our bikes off the road. We still made an attempt to hide; a depression, a dry river, perhaps behind a bush. But in reality, in the 12 plus hours we would inhabit the space, perhaps 3 cars would pass us. And from years on the road, we knew most people weren’t serial killer-robbers.

Two days from the border we had a delightful stay in Windhoek where Charis and Dieter took great care of us, and to our delight we also caught up with Richie again. He’d decided to return to Namibia to figure out where he wanted to go next. It was a great crew and we even managed a magical camping trip the the beautiful Spitzekoppe.

The crew from the festival and Nanda who we met in Zim

It’s so hot during the day, this is the answer

Namibia then became a test of resilience for Astrid and I. Not since long ago out back Australia had we ridden such tough roads, in such harsh conditions. It began easy enough, while almost all roads in Namibia outside of towns are unsealed, they were at least at first in good condition. Then however, things got harder.

Warning giraffes! Not sure where. We never saw any in all of Namibia.

The road deteriorated to where it was a constant zig zag to find a rideable section. Our daily average plummeted, sometimes as low as 4km an hour. At one point our tent bounced off the back of my bike and I didn’t notice until 5km later. I nearly had a melt down (well, I kind of did have a melt down) but I was saved when after only 1km of back tracking I waved down some Germans who said they had seen it and kindly went back and retrieved our home.

Where’s the good bit?
Roads that invoke moments like this
The Pass was awesome though
And windy
Desolate beauty
My brakes were fried. I had to keep stopping.
Hot, hot , hot
Heat and crazy roads. And of course apple strudel (it is Namibia after all)

The road kept getting worse and it kept getting hotter. And the tourists often sprayed us with dust as they passed too fast in their hire 4×4’s. One day, just when I’d really had enough, my inner tube rapidly deflated. Pissed, I stopped to change it, Astrid already too far in front to notice my absence. Changing a tube in the blustering heat of the mid-day Namibian sun is no fun at all. This was made worse when once fixed, 20 metres down the road it happened again. I was so mad I wanted to scream. I probably did, as I was completely alone. Turns out the stem of the inner tube had been severed. This is usually not repairable.

In the end I hitch hiked with some Germans (always) to our destination, a very glamorous petrol station. Like Australian outback camping, Namibians charge a ludicrous amount of money for a piece of dirt. Luckily, as cyclists there was a loop hole. They let us camp for a fraction of the price on some dirt behind the petrol station. And we still had access to the pool and showers.

We were now in a dire situation with only one spare tube between us and two of mine severed at the stem. And more than 400km of rough roads ahead of us. I needed to fix one of my broken tubes and take Astrid’s only spare in order for us to keep going. We tried desperately to get a spare from Windhoek, but had no luck. So like any modern nomad, I turned to u tube. With a bit super glue, determination and u tube inspiration I managed to super glue the stem together and then put a small hole in a patch and shimmy it over the stem to secure it. It held for another 200km.

Crisis averted. So now it was time to actually appreciate the beautiful Sossusvlei, a salt and clay pan surrounded by immense dunes. We’d taken up residence as the Sesriem petrol station so that we could experience the magical beauty of this area . So we hitched hiked in with some friendly Germans and had an amazing morning exploring this alien and super unique landscape.

It looks like the tree is a creature
The magical Sossusvlei

Astrid exploring the dunes

Unfortunately, I also had a really high fever that left me shivering and freezing in the hot desert sun. On return to Sesriem I lay in a miserable heap, trying to sleep and somehow muster the energy to cycle. We needed to leave as we had been evicted from the petrol station. I felt truly awful and had no idea how I would possibly pedal 1 km, let alone the several hundred we needed to cover. It’s these times on the road that you feel the most vulnerable. We had nowhere really to go. The idea of spending days lying in a tent, especially when the midday heat hit well into the 30’s was not appealing. Nor could we afford the nearby hotel, which was some kind of fancy resort. I suppose we could have hitch hiked, there’s always a way in Africa, but it would have been cumbersome and unpleasant and we still wouldn’t really have known where to go. Instead I decided to take my chances with our last antibiotics. Not something I recommend! However, it was either going to work, or not.

Luckily, either the antibiotics began working, or the fever passed. For I woke the next day (we cycled a few kilometres and camped with a French family who had met Clo) weak but afebrile. We also woke to a howling, cold head/cross wind.

Namibia had already been getting tough. Now it upped its game. The wind blew sand in our faces. The road was so bad we were constantly weaving from one side to the other, sometimes stopping dead in the soft sand. My neck ached all day from the concentration it took to steer the green fairy, and the kilometres inched by. Everyday we said to each other: tomorrow will be better.

But it wasn’t.

Days began before sunrise, where the joy of a breakfast fire was the only thing that got me out of bed. We’d eat and drink coffee, already weary. Once on the bikes it would be hours of terrible roads, sheltering behind trees, or fences to eat, the only time that we’d escape the wind. By midday it was hot. Really hot. And our bikes were heavy with the extra kilos of water we had to carry. We had to push until dark just to get within the ball park of the kilometres we wanted to achieve. Everyday we re-calculated, slipping further and further behind where we wanted to be.

A few cool hours before the sun rose
We were so far away for this, but it was so relevant considering the 7 year drought
Typical roadside camp
Even when it was hard, it was beautiful.
can’t fault the evenings, perched behind trees.
Indeed
Shattered

It was tough and a little soul sucking. Our resilience was certainly tested and neither the road, nor the wind improved. This was compounded by the fact that Namibia was challenging anyway; big distances, heat and like outback Australia, very little services. We carried days worth of food and often up to 15L of water each.

Riding through a dust storm
This is kind of the reality – dusty and slightly crazed looking eating out of a pot
Shoving pasta into her face before collapse
Preparing dinner after a long day
Relief in the form of a gifted cold beer

However, because cycle touring is a microcosm of life we knew eventually it would get better, and it did. It happened at a rest stop where we had planned to camp the previous night. But due to the wind we’d had to stop 15km out. So we arrived early morning, probably looking rather grim. The kind owner immediately welcomed us warmly and then proceeded to offer us a free hot shower. What a legend. His small shop was the first time we’d been able to resupply in days, so we happily bought a heap of food, including fresh bread. They were kind enough to let us cook up our second breakfast (washed down with ice cream) and then just as we were leaving we met a very kind South African couple who gave us a very nice bottle of red.

Wine and smooth roads. Life has indeed improved.

After this lovely exchange, our souls felt lighter. The wind was still howling however, and in fact a storm blew up which made everything even more insane and wild. But our fortunes began to turn because after some lunch at a turn off (with some lovely goats for company) the road turned, meaning the wind was now more or less behind us. AND the grader had been through. After so long inching along, we were now flying. It felt amazing.

That night we found the most perfect sheltered spot, lit a fire and shared the fancy bottle of wine while watching the sun set. Life was perfect. It is these quiet moments I will forever treasure. I don’t think life can get much better.

The road continued to be kind. One day while refilling water at a large fancy resort near fish river canyon, we were invited to partake in the buffet breakfast in exchange for an interview. Then we managed to hitch hike into fish river canyon, saving us many kilometres. Fish River Canyon was immensely impressive, if a little drought ravaged.

Rest days in some eccentric outback villages. With gin and tonic of course.

We had somehow managed to make up the kilometres we had lost and as we approached the border with South Africa. From Fish River Canyon we had climbed all afternoon, making camp in a dry river bed, surrounded by rocky mountains. In the morning we finished the climb and then descended, mountain zebra and oryx, running alongside us in the golden morning sunshine. A moment of pure magic.

This year it was so dry people were not aloud to hike there this year.

The next moment of magic came, after weeks of reds and browns, dust and heat, we spotted the green slither of the Orange River. This marked the border with South Africa and the end of Namibia for us.

Astrid’s chain busted on the last full day in Namibia.

The green marks the border and the Orange River
Glorious colours

Well, almost.

We still needed to ride to the border post, a further 50km or so along the river. The first stop on the river was Aussenkehr where we came face to face with crazy inequality. We’d been somewhat sheltered from this, given that Namibia is so devoid of humans. A dusty shanty town with no sanitation sat alongside rich green vineyards and a Spar supermarket. Those in the settlement looked like they were the labour for the vineyards. We stocked up on food and decided to continue on, to try and reach Felix Unite, a camp on the river many Namibians had recommended.

With 80km already in our legs we still felt confident in making it another 30km. Unfortunately our tailwind turned into a headwind and everything became epically hard. Namibia wasn’t quite ready for us to have it easy. After all we had come through, it kind of seemed fitting. We did make though, just after sunset, utterly spent.

Felix Unite was as lovely as everyone had said. We lad a lazy rest day, swam, ate, made friends and then somehow sunset whisky turned into some kind of party with a German guy and a South African who lived in Namibia. I remember falling asleep to them both speaking in Spanish. One never knows how the day will end up.

Or what will happen next. Turns out, the South African guy owned a farm 100km up the Orange River and invited us to come stay. With a few days left on our visa, we thought; why not?

So the bikes and us jumped into Franz’s buckie and we drove 100km out into the middle of nowhere. His farm really is surrounded by no other humans. I think his closest neighbour is 50km away. It’s right on the Orange River, and I really got to appreciate the life giving force of water. Everything around Franz’s farm is dry, except for his orchard of dates and limes and pecans. In a way he was practicing permaculture, without knowing it. Growing different plants together, trying to harvest and store water, and rather than having one kind of animal, he has several, in small numbers.

Our days with Franz were full of laughter and fun. We went paddle boarding and kayaking on the river, cooked bread on a fire, made tortilla’s from pap (Franz had once lived in Mexico), swam, read, napped, slept under the stars, chased pigs back into the paddock they escaped from, drank whiskey and watched the sunset over the Orange River. It truly was a marvellous end to Namibia. Our souls felt restored and refreshed, ready for our final country on the African continent.

Astrid is the kayak queen
Orange river at sunset
Stand up Paddle boarding
Drawing
Some kind of focused cooking
A delightful way to move about!
A hard life..
Climbed up here for sunset
Action shot!
Whoo hoo!!

September 22, 2020 by foonbikeride

Partying with Elephants

Our cycle through Botswana

By reaching Botswana we had well and truly hit the tourist trail of southern Africa. From now on we would find well stocked supermarkets, fancy campsites and 4X4’s filled with tourists. It was a far cry from the mountain tracks of Ethiopia, or the highlands of Tanzania. Hummus still eluded us though.

However, the adventure was far from over. The distances in Botswana are large. And there are elephants. A lot of them. Which is kind of why we were there. The elephant highway is a stretch of road running approximately from Kasane to Nata and had been something we’d been looking forward to ever since we’d first heard the magical words “elephant highway’. I love elephants. A lot. The idea of seeing many of them filled me with great excitement. Riding the elephant highway does of course come with risks, however it also comes with cell phone towers. These said cell phone towers are fenced and guarded ( I am not exactly sure why they are guarded, but presumably people have tried to steal materials). The men whose job it is to guard these places are used to scruffy, dirty cyclists turning up and sleeping within the safety of the fences (there are also lions).

Elephant Highway! With Ann and Clo’s sticker.

So we had a plan. Firstly though, we needed to go on a safari. Chobe National Park is one of the cheapest and best places to go on a river safari. We picked the most affordable company, which was awesome as it was us, a german family and locals on holiday. Astrid and I (in river safari style) cracked a beer and prepared to watch animals. It felt so different to the way we usually experience wildlife. It turned out to be as magical as we had hoped though. Elephants, hippos, crocs, many kinds of antelopes, birds.. Our cheap mobile phone photos don’t do it justice, but probably no photo really would.

This Buffalo looks serious
Afternoon Buffalo

We had the added adventure of having to cycle back to our campsite just after dusk, when elephants like to walk about. The kind people from the safari company drove behind us slowly to make sure an elephant didn’t walk across our path (we certainly saw them lurking in the shadows by the road!).

The following morning, after stocking up we finally headed out onto the long awaited elephant highway. It did not disappoint; we rode along a lightly trafficked highway, along side the African bush in which we saw many an elephant. Sometimes munching on trees in family groups, other times meandering across the highway liked they owned the place (they do!).

A service station offers a safe place to sleep

A beer at elephant sands (is all we could afford)

At night we slept safely in cell phone towers (which we occasionally climbed) and watched stunning sunsets. It was warm, dusty and perfect. By the time we reached Nata to restock and head towards Maun, we were very much delighted with our experience.

Since there had been no rest days since we crossed the border and long days thereafter, we looked forward to a rest at Gweta Lodge about 2 days out from Maun where we would meet the others for the festival. Gweta was managed by James who both Ann, Clo, Craig and Tristan had said we must meet.

‘Cos Giant Anteaters eaters need to be climbed

What can I say I about James? He is a whirlwind of energy, fun and kindness. We were so well looked after, and had such a blast with him. In true Jude and Astrid fashion we had such fun that we stayed an extra two nights. Although rest we did not.

James took us out to build a fire and drink beer in the middle of nowhere on the first night and we stared up at the amazing starlit skies. Followed by 2 am hectic ramen making. Then he took us out to the Makgadikgadi salt pans, which we would never have seen on our bikes. That was epically magical. There was much crazy driving around, drinking beverages of an alcoholic nature and some kind of random sushi making. It was one of those experiences where you just go with the flow, laughing and enjoying each moment.

Playing with the curvature of the earth…
bty
Trying for that perfect jumping photo..
Still not quite nailed it
Got it
The end of another day
This place was full of huge bones. Incredible
Checking out this ancient tree

Afterwards, 100km down the road, back in the quiet bush with only the shifting of the wind and the odd night creature making noise, we kind of looked at each other and wondered what had just happened. It’s these incredibly heartfelt and joyous (with a tinge of madness) encounters with humans that really add to the fabric of a trip like this. I think for years to come we’ll be chuckling and saying ‘remember that time in Botswana with James where we made hectic 2am ramen?”

Back on the road
our “fence” to keep animals from accidentally stomping us
The best kind of kitchen, lounge room, bedroom
Stoked

The quiet was not to last. Soon we rolled into Maun, one of the larger towns in Botswana and the jumping off point for the Okavango Delta, and for us, the Okavango Delta Music Festival. It was also the place where we were reunited with Israa, having last crossed paths in Lalibela, Ethiopia. In the meantime Israa had been on a safari where she had met Richie, and Richie in turn had convinced several other people to come and join us all at the festival. So by the time we rolled into Old Bridge where we were all staying it was a whole crew of us heading out to the festival the next day.

We barely had time to appreciate the hippos lounging right by the camp (unfortunately, due to the drought, there was barely any water in the river and the hippos and crocs were confined to an awkward co-existence in not much more than a pond) before we were back out on the road towards the festival.

Lucky for us, Richie’s friend’s Charis and Dieter offered to give us and the bikes a lift. The festival director had assured us we could cycle out there. She had no idea. It was 20km of deep sand that would have taken us two days of pushing probably.

After not two days, but quite a lot of four wheel driving, we arrived in the dry and dusty Okavango Delta. We should have been surrounded by water. Last years festival goers spoke of the magic of the water. However, this year was a drought, so water there was not.

Still, we were in high spirits. It was a festival after all. In Botswana. We made camp with Charis, her dad and his friend Dave. There was also Richie, Israa, as well a few Belgium’s, Brits and Israeli’s. Did I mention Richie is a bit of a social epicentre?!

Those of us who had signed up to volunteer headed to find the organiser to find out what we needed to do. What followed were 2 rather chaotic days. There was a lot to do. Astrid and I mainly helped the wonderful Tumie, who was in charge of decorations. We climbed trees, balanced on ladders and untangled endless flags. We helped wherever we could and it was exhausting but satisfying. I think I speak for both of us when I say we both felt like we got so much out of volunteering and that it felt a lot richer than just turning up with a ticket.

Hanging decorations
Any excuse to climb a tree
Starting to take shape

Unfortunately the festival was plagued by issues. Firstly, the generator stopped working on the first night which obviously meant no music or lights. Another one had to be organised to come from Gaborone, and that one also struggled by the end. Then there was the festival organiser. She was a big employer in town and thus wielded a lot of power and we observed some pretty severe double standards in how she treated us, and how she treated her local staff. Not to mention, how the community on whose land we were on, were potentially exploited. We all observed it and we all felt it, and by the end of the festival we were all pretty devastated. Racism and division were rife, barely disguised under a thin veneer of ‘nice’.

Israa, Tumie and us
Our job during the festival

Before these double standards and colonial attitudes became so blatant we did manage to have fun. The music (when the generator worked) was grand, we danced, laughed and made friends with the guys who ran Drifter brewery. At one point a giant creature followed Astrid back from the toilet. We had a good crew and made our own fun and there were definitely moments of pure hedonistic merriment.

Hippies in a tree
Having a splendid time
Even cycle bums have party outfits

On the last day, the festival really began to unravel. The generator had some serious issues and many of the artists left, before playing their set. It was left up to a bunch of south African DJ’s to try and save the night, and they did for a time. The festival organiser tellingly was no where to be seen. It made me sad and angry that when things got difficult, she just pissed off to her chateau. Astrid and I had really wanted to love this festival. Sadly, we were pretty out of love with the whole thing by the time we left.

These guys saved the festival for a while

However, what does one do when the festival falls apart around you? Go grab a huge keg of beer and make your own party around a huge fire with a bunch of randoms, including a rather eccentric south African drug dealer, a Namibian who lives in an eco fort, and some brewers from Cape Town. I think I crawled into my tent as dawn began to creep over the delta.

Because this was the festival the keeps on giving (in the worst way) the following morning, after helping Tumie clean up as much as we could, a bunch of us all found ourselves stranded in the delta. The transport guys were doing the best they could, but it’s a long, hard road out, and there simply wasn’t enough room on the few pick ups and mini vans that did turn up. Sitting around with the other volunteers and local staff hoping that someone would turn up to give us a lift out, we really got to hear the stories about how they had been treated by the festival organiser and it left us feeling even more upset and angry. We all felt a bit helpless. It’s hard to know what the right thing to do is, when it isn’t your community and you don’t really know what ramifications your actions will have. In the end I did write a scathing review, but tellingly, it got deleted.

After hours of waiting, we all finally managed to hitch a ride out. Of course the ute ran out of oil and overheated, but with 5km to the tarmac, Astrid and I took our chances, bade our fellow volunteers farewell and went it alone. It was a slightly exhausting ride/push to the main road and then a further 10km out to Old Bridge. We just missed Richie and the isreali’s who had come to look for us.

It was the usual end of festival vibe at old bridge; a lot of clothes washing, body washing and taking stock over a few quiet beers. I was exhausted and crawled into bed to the sound of hippos (who were still uneasily living with the crocodiles) and laughter from my fellow festival goers.

Astrid and I took a day off the next day, while our friends slowly left one-by-one; towards Zambia, Namibia and South Africa. It’s always a little sobering, we had certainly cemented our friendship with Israa and Richie, and had no idea when we would see them again.

So now we only had a few hundred km to go reach Namibia, with our next destination being Windhoek (a few hundred kms after that), where Charis had invited us to stay.

We stopped at this amazing community art gallery

It was smooth flat riding through the African savannah with the wind at our backs. After the joy of so much socialising, it did also feel so lovely to go back to our more simple life; pedal, eat, pedal, eat, pedal, find a camp spot, build a fire, cook, eat, stare at the stars, sleep. I had missed the simplicity.

Happiness is chakalaka on bread
The best kind of mornings
The best kind of evenings
The best way to cook

We did run into a peacecorp volunteer (one always eventually does!) who invited us to stay, so we spent a lovely evening eating pasta and playing scrabble. Aside from that it was a quiet ride to the border and before too long we were saying goodbye to Botswana and heading into our second last country in Africa.

A random scrabble night
Watch out – warthogs!
Nearly there!!

July 12, 2020 by foonbikeride

The friends you make in Zimbabwe..

When people think about Zimbabwe they often think about the failing economy, political violence, forced acquisition of white farms and Robert Mugabe. South Africans will go all dreamy eyed as they recall childhoods spent in Zimbabwe on holiday, describing its beauty and incredible infrastructure. While I won’t pretend to have nuanced and detailed information on the ins and outs of the particular issues Zimbabwe faces, what however seems clear, is that under Robert Mugabe’s leadership there has sadly been a decline in living standards, GDP, and an increase in political violence.

When we entered Zimbabwe their economy was barely functioning; it was very difficult to get Zimbabwean Bonds and US dollars had stopped being officially accepted. The value of the Bond appeared to drop daily. We could pay with credit card at the supermarket (when the machine was working) but this stopped us from spending our money at the more local shops, which was a shame. There were also huge (day long) queues for fuel and frequent 8 hour power cuts. And we were probably quite sheltered from the real harsh reality as we were only in Victoria Falls, probably the most touristy part of Zimbabwe.

However, even though the economy is in tatters, and people are hurting, the Zimbabweans we met were incredibly kind and warm hearted. It is definitely a country I would love to spend more time in in the future and one that many of our fellow cycle travellers speak of highly as well.

Our time in Zimbabwe didn’t exactly turn out how we had planned. After settling into the hostel, we decided to see the falls the following day at sunrise, which had been recommended by a local. So there was nothing left to do but go to the first microbrewery we’d found on the continent. It was so exciting to delve into some deliciously hoppy beers. Finally.

As planned, we got up before dawn and pedalled the 5kms to the falls. We were the first ones there and the guards kindly let us in a few minutes before it officially opened.

What can I say, Mosi-o-Tunya is an incredible feat of nature. Even in this drought ravaged year, it was impressive. You hear them well before you see them. The roar is incredible. As is the fine mist that creates a micro climate, and depending on which way the wind is blowing, can soak you. Being there are sunrise was magical, and while we weren’t quite alone, there were not too many people about. We had packed a picnic and enjoyed breakfast with a rather incredible view.

Afterwards we rode back to the hostel along the river and sighted a huge elephant. Just another day on this incredible continent.

Back at the hostel we had a the good fortune to run into a guy called Richard. Richie had just arrived in Vic Falls after a long trek from Mozambique after attending Mozamboogy, an electronic festival held on the beach. He said he was travelling around Africa volunteering and going to festivals after having completed a semester at the university of Stellenbosch. This all immediately peeked my interest. We all began chatting. Turns out Richie was heading to a music festival in Botswana next.

A few hours later I had secured Astrid and I a spot volunteering at said festival. Sometimes you simply meet the right people at the right time and need to just run with it. We were going to a FESTIVAL!!! I decided to let Israa know, the girl we’d met on the ferry coming into Sudan and had last run into in Ethiopia. We’d been in on and off contact for the last few months. Not much later Israa also had a spot volunteering. Whoo hooo! I have definitely missed partying, and Botswana was not the place I had envisioned doing it, making it all the more exciting. Richie also already knew a bunch of people going who he’d met while couch surfing in Namibia.

Astrid and I were soon to learn that Richie is an epicentre of social connections, fun and loveliness. By the time we all made it to the festival a few weeks later, he was responsible for about 15 people having decided to come along.

But I digress. So we were now in Zim with a whole new and marvellous plan. It also meant we had more time ( and less, later on). So we decided to stay one more night.

And this is kind of how it went for the next 5 days. There was always a reason to stay. Firstly, Richie introduced us to his friend Selma who he had partied with in Mozambique. Selma was super cool and had been hitch hiking all over southern Africa. As she had already been to Vic Falls, she knew her way around. So one day we took a hike right down to the river to drink a beer and enjoy the beauty. Another day we went shopping at the local flea market for festival outfits. And then there was the fact of the pool, long lazy afternoons and fabulous company.

In the evenings we’d often cook together and drink whiskey, which was absurdly cheap. One evening I had a crazy night out at the local bar with Selma and rode home by moonlight at 2am, looking for elephants hiding in the shadows. Another night we made Mexican. Oh and there was the matter of Ann Jangle.

Ann is a South African musician who was traveling north to play at the Kilifi New Year’s festival in Kenya. She’d met up with Craig, Clo and Tristan in Botswana and they’d told us we must meet Ann. Our plan had been to meet her in Bots, but the longer we stayed in Zim, the more complicated our meeting up location became. So in the end we figured why not stay and wait for Ann. So we did.

Ann is amazing. Such a vivacious and fun human, we immediately connected and had another reason to stay. It felt like we had met a kindred spirit; another adventurous cycling woman full of stories and laughter, in a world that is often dominated by men. So we spent a few more days, just hanging out, laughing, exploring and enjoying each others company. It had been a while since Astrid and I had been around people our own age and it was so nice to have these more social days.

Eventually, we did however have to leave. While it was sad, we knew we would at least be seeing Richie again in a few weeks. And there was no way that our path wouldn’t cross with Ann’s again one day.

Selma, Richie and Ann made our time in Vic Falls so brilliant

So we left and cycled the last 70km to the border with Botswana, seeing elephants and giraffes on the way. As you do.

What an incredible unexpected joy Zimbabwe had turned out to be.

April 18, 2020 by foonbikeride

Huge elephant sees cycle tourist and hides behind a tree

sdr We arrived in Zambia by accident and before we had officially crossed the border. Apparently, by crossing the road to spend the last of our Malawian Kwatcha on a cold beer, we had crossed into Zambia. Not that anyone minded – the border official who was also buying a beer laughed and said he’d see us soon.

Lundazi

Once officially stamped into Zambia we had a short ride to Lundazi where we briefly had a stress getting access to money – none of the ATMs took Mastercard (they were all broken) and we didn’t have visa (thanks to a hungry ATM in Malawi). Luckily, we did have US dollars and were able to change them just before the bank shut. Phew. Now there was nothing left to do but go find a Norman castle to call home for the night. Built in 1948 by the British administrator, Lundazi castle is perhaps one of the oddest things in Zambia. The rooms are super old school with no hot water, (but a friendly guy working there brought us more buckets than we needed), mismatched ill fitting furniture and a fair amount of British kitsch. But we certainly enjoyed the novelty of spending the night in a fake Norman castle in southern Africa.

Lundazi Castle

Our castle room

Stove maintenance in the castle

We’d been debating over the last couple of weeks which route we’d take through Zambia. Our options were the main highway via Chipata to South Luangwa National park, then on to Lusaka, or the more adventurous option of small back roads and then onto the Old Petauke Road, a route which was heavily discussed on our whatsapp group due to lion sightings. Predictably, we chose the latter.

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And I am so glad we did. What followed were some of the best riding days in Africa so far. Small dirt roads with mostly bike and foot traffic (and not a lot of that), immaculate little villages (sweeping is an African wide obsession it seems), with thatched roofs and smiling kids, and the wildlife! We rode through the Luambe national park where we would round corners and startle elephants who would then try and hide unsuccessfully behind trees (pretty funny watching a giant elephant try and hide behind a tiny tree). There were a myriad of different antelopes, as well as warthogs, and loads of birds. It was truely spectacular riding and fitted in with all the cliché dreams one has of this continent and its magic.

It’s for roads like this I cycle tour!

Forest camp before big animals became an issue

Huts along the road

A school

That light!

And some more of it

I imagine not many foreigners get to see these parts if rural Africa

Riding through a typical rural Zambian village

One of our favourite parks

Looking at the Luangwa River and the hippos

Hippos chilling out

A big elephant

A big elephant is scared of us and leaves

Always on the look out for animals

The national park gate is a safe place to call home for the night

Sunset behind the rangers huts

I love the sky and this tree

Another small and delightful backroad

so many shades of gold

Quick lunch stop – bread and peanut butter is standard

It is so dry

They do indeed!

Huge boabab

The dry and dusty landscape indicative of the drought

Zebra watch us

Giraffes meander by

After 3 long days on dirt roads and sleeping at national park posts, we reached the relative tourist hub of Mfewe. Here we shopped for food (and a cold beer) and then headed off to Wilderness Camp, a place that came highly recommended by other touring cyclists on the Luangwa River. On our way into Wilderness camp, which is several kilometres outside Mfuwe, we were held up by a herd of elephants. There were dozens of them eating right next to the road, some with babies. Although we had never experienced aggressive elephants, they are more likely to be protective/aggressive when they have young with them. Luckily, some dudes in a truck rounded the corner and escorted us to the camp. Just another day in Zambia!

Filthy but happy

Had to stop in here!

At the camp we were told they had no tent spaces available. They must have taken pity on our exhausted and slightly devastated faces, and the fact that we were both covered in red dust, looking rather worn. Very kindly and generously they offered us a safari hut with ensuite for the same price as a camping spot. We were floored and so grateful. It was quite an experience wheeling our bikes through the camp. I feel really uncomfortable writing this, as it’s not at all what we’re about, and to us this life is so normal and we know so many people do this kind of trip. However, walking through that camp I can only describe that it felt maybe a bit like what it feels to be a celebrity. Everyone stared at us. And then everyone wanted to talk to us. We kept getting side tracked with offers of drinks and people wanting to hear our story. It was very flattering and slightly overwhelming. We hadn’t seen so many white people in one place in months, nor had that much attention (other than from children).

Elephant family

Wildlife camp

Our safari tent was lush. Probably one of the nicest places I’ve stayed and our small balcony overlooked the Luangwa River, complete with hippos. During the night I woke to a ginormous bull elephant eating a tree right outside the tent (it was a solid safari tent and not dangerous at all), I was so excited and a little bit startled and I had to wake Astrid to show her. He was massive! It was an amazing experience.

Our safari tent. Luxury!

Our time at Wilderness Camp was slow and easy. We ended up getting two nights in the Safari tent before a campsite became available. In the mornings we drank tea and made use of the camp kitchen, caught up on writing, reading and went swimming in the pool. I never got tired at looking at the river, which was full of hippos (some were pink from sunburn!) and crocodiles, and would turn the most divine silvery colour at sunset. We talked with other travellers and were thoroughly spoiled by several different South Africans who invited us for dinner and sunset drinks.

The bar and pool area

It was hard to leave

Luangwa River

Not sure if things get much better than this..

The major draw card of this area is the South Luangwa National Park. While we had already cycled through some of the park and seen many giraffes, antelope and warthogs, its also one of the most affordable places to do a night safari. So we thought, why not? While it was cool and we did see a leopard, I’m not sure I’m a massive fan of the safari. There were a lot of us being driven around, looking for the same animals. Everyone wants to see a big cat of some sort (which we really didn’t care about that much) and it all felt a bit contrived. This is kind of where cycle travel ruins you for normal tourist experiences! I’d much rather stumble across a heard of giraffe on my bike. Or be drinking coffee as zebra graze nearby. While we might not have spotted all of the ‘big 5’ Astrid and I just found seeing animals incidentally like this much more rewarding.

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After our break at Wilderness Camp it was a day and a half ride for us along the last of the Old Petauke road to the main road. This section traversed an area that was known for a lot of wildlife, including lions. It was the bit we’d been most hesitant about, but after enjoying the first section so much, we weren’t about to take the main road now. So off we pedalled, along something that wasn’t much more than a bumpy track at times. Again, we were rewarded with elephants, warthogs, waterbucks, impala and even a herd of buffalo. We passed through a few small villages with heavily fortified animal enclosures, which always alerts us to the fact that predators are around. As we were making good time, we passed through a larger village where we knew we could have stayed as a fellow cyclist had overnighted there. The afternoon wore on and the track got bumpier and rougher, the light began to turn a little, indicating the approaching evening. I began to get a bit nervous. What happens if there wasn’t another village soon?! All kinds of scenarios began to come into my head. I could tell Astrid was thinking the same thing. Surely, there was going to be a village soon?!

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I just love this

The bush began to look ominous and I longed to see a break in the trees that indicated agriculture and a nearby village. Our phone maps weren’t helpful, as villages are often not marked. We had half a fight and began making plans about building something around our tent, and talking about the likely, or non-likelihood of lions. I felt responsible for the decision (although I don’t’ remember why now) and as it turned to evening I really began to panic inside while trying to remain calm on the outside, making a plan to build a big fire to keep the lions away. Then through the trees we spied a field. I felt relief, but only a bit. It looked abandoned and all around us there seemed to just be more bush. I never usually want to see people just before we pull over to camp but tonight I was desperate to see another human. It’s the first and last time I’ve felt like this in Africa, and it was an interesting feeling to observe. I felt fragile and alone, aware of my inability to fight off any kind of predator, wanting to be with my own kind, away from the scariness of the bush and all it holds. Mostly I actually feel the opposite of this.

Back into the wilderness – of sorts

Just us and the bush

The light is fading and we’re not sure where the next village will be

After what seemed like forever since we’d seen the field, I finally spied a mobile phone tower. I’ve never been so happy to see one of those! They are always in villages. What a relief. We were not going to be eaten by lions after all. Soon we reached the outskirts and some friendly guys (who didn’t seem at all surprised to see us) directed us to the school where the lovely teacher said of course we could camp in the classroom. We were soon setting up and cooking our meal, while the kids peered in at the weirdos, shouting “hello and how are you!” (over and over again) and giggling at the dirty cyclists camped out on their classroom floor.

Safe in the classroom

Our time in more remote Zambia had now drawn to a close as we met up with the great eastern road the following morning. This was the major road into Lusaka, sealed and busy at times. We still enjoyed our cycle into the city over the next four days as we found the countryside quite beautiful, the people friendly and the wind on our side.

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Lusaka was a huge reverse cultural shock: first big supermarket since Nairobi and so many shiny malls (which we didn’t really like). We enjoyed the diversity of food – although still no hummus, catching up with some Italian cyclists and doing bike repairs as well as some serious clothes washing. For the first few days we couch surfed with a lovely woman called Sylvia. She gave us an interesting insight into life in Zambia and the hurdles often faced by women. Teenage pregnancy is rife and girls are unlikely in general to even finish high school, which in itself puts them at much greater risks of poverty. Then, if you do finish high school and go on to university and a good job, people still judge you and believe you only got there by sleeping with the boss. Sylvia had herself faced many obstacles, including a crazy long walk to school from a small rural village, which involved river crossings – things we can’t even comprehend. One of the really interesting things about Sylvia was that she was seriously smashing some stereotypes; not only did she live alone, have a master degree, she also was a navigator for rally drivers on weekends and had won loads of trophies. Super cool.

Looking out onto the hills

The great eastern road

Camping at the police post not far out of Lusaka

Another day, another sleep at a police post

Beers on reaching Lusaka

From Lusaka we rode steadily south towards Livingstone and Mosi ao Tunya (Victoria Falls). It wasn’t the most interesting, or pleasant ride south, especially as Astrid became quite ill just before we reached Livingstone. Of course, being super tough, she managed to cycle 100km with a fever before 2pm.

The road south

Searching for a camp

Such amazing colours at the end of the day

A typical camp for us in the bush

Small roads are good for hiding

In Livingstone we collapsed into a camp and spent a few days recovering. Because of a severe drought, the Zambian side of the falls weren’t flowing much, so we decided to head over the border to Zimbabwe. Our plan was to spend two days in Zim, before crossing into Botswana. But plans have a funny way of not always working out…

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on the road to Zimbabwe

Boabab magic

April 8, 2020 by foonbikeride

The dusty and magical backroads of Malawi

80F57D41-B22E-4885-A3F7-87F8693A2787 We cruised into Malawi with no issues, fresh from a morning of descending amongst beautiful tea plantations in the wonderful sunshine. It felt so good to be alive and out of that hotel room and pedalling into a new country.

Riding towards the lake

Our route took us down towards Lake Malawi and it felt much like many other places we’d been in Africa. People were friendly, waving and smiling, children were mildly annoying (the occasional shout for money) and wares were sold by the side of the road, often near a cluster of huts.

FLEE!

Oh and there were amusing signs.

By the time we reached the shores of lake Malawi it was getting late, and as the sun began to fade from the sky, we didn’t have the energy to find a place to wild camp. Instead we opted for the easier ioverlander (travelling app we’ve been using a bit in Africa) option and soon found ourselves at a seemingly semi deserted resort by the lake. It was a little run down and old school and exuded a charm that instantly resonated with us. The men running the place were super friendly, we were able to camp and they kindly let us store the bikes in an empty room and even use the shower (which we didn’t actually use as we have a high tolerance to mild fest. And are possibly lazy).

Happy to be in Malawi

Before too long we were sat by the lake, admiring the changing colours and sipping a beer. Life was pretty perfect. Some locals came to talk to us and they were lovely and we all had a nice chat before they headed off home and we went to cook our dinner. Malawi felt friendly and safe, like most of the places we’d been.

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The following day we meandered along with the lake on our left, sometimes in sight, sometimes not. We stopped off in Karonga, a larger town, to stock up on some supplies and the inevitable painful and time consuming simcard activation (I still don’t know why it is always so hard). In the afternoon we passed small villages where people sold tiny dried fish from the lake, tomatoes, onions, eggs and not much else. Men on bikes were slightly annoying, trying to race us (failing) and watching us have lunch. It wasn’t threatening, but we were glad to turn off to the sanctuary of Floja Foundation camping and lodge. This Dutch supported social enterprise helps children with extra educational opportunities who would normally fall through the cracks. Next to the school was a rather idyllic campsite on the lake. After a couple of weeks of wild camping in Tanzania and the odd dingy hotel, this was paradise. We tried out all the hammocks and best chillout spots and debated far too long the exact perfect place to put our tent.

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Needless to say we spent two restful and peaceful days at Floja. We meditated at sunrise and even snuck in a swim after hearing the risk of Bilharzia was minimal. The water felt delicious. Pauline and Andre were wonderful hosts and we treated ourselves to some freshly baked bread and a glass of wine or two. Simple but very luxurious items for us.

Sunrise

So peaceful

Fresh bread!

Tea time happiness

Watching the colours of the lake

More lake loveliness

And some more

After Floja it was time to leave the shimmering beauty of lake Malawi and climb up onto the escarpment and the hilly interior of Malawi. Judging by the severe wiggly lines on our mapping app, we surmised it would be a fairly challenging feat. At the turn off we were met by a host of men who told us we couldn’t possibly cycle up the hill. I rolled my eyes and was ready to just ignore them, but Astrid is much more patient. She humoured them and let one show her the first part of the road. When she indicated it would be fine, he changed his story that she would be robbed by bandits. So she asked about why Malawians would rob tourists and he retorted that it was people from other countries. It all sounded a little far fetched. No doubt a tourist or tourists have been mugged on the road at some point. However, it smelt heavily of cash making opportunism to me. And look, if they’d offered a reasonable price, to save our legs and support some locals, we would have paid. However the price they asked for was about 5 times us much as locals paid and well beyond our budget. So we opted to cycle.

The road up

Getting closer..

Hot, sweaty, tired but happy!

And gosh, I am so glad we did. It was a beautiful ride. No one mugged us. People just waved and beeped in encouragement as they passed us panting up the hill. The road was rough in parts but the hairpin bends actually made the gradient mostly rideable. We only pushed a few times. The 10km did take us about 3 hours, but it was worth every pedal stroke. The views from the top were spectacular, as was Mushroom Farm, a guest house built on the edge of a cliff.

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This place is one of my favourite places I’ve ever stayed. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves and add that the food is amazing and the associated permaculture garden a wonderful example of what is possible. We stayed longer than we had planned because the atmosphere and surrounds just suited us so much. While we were there we did some walks and made onward plans for southern Africa. We even started talking vaguely about logistics for Namibia and South Africa. Shit is getting real!

Views don’t get much better..

Vegie burger happiness

Breakfast time

Cooking in the kitchen at Mushroom farm

Our amazing camp spot

View of our spot

By the time we left Mushroom Farm we had completely changed our plan for Malawi. We were now headed high up to the Nyika Plateau. A local had told us about how beautiful it was, then added how we’d never be able to make it up there on bikes. Challenge accepted.

Livingstone, a slightly creepy mission town…

Trying to find our way out of Livingstone

Still trying..

Success

Taking a breather

Heading towards Nyika

It took us a day to get within striking distance which included spending the night camped by a school, our one visa card getting eaten by an ATM machine and us cycling up some of the steepest, gnarliest roads (where at times we were pushing) on the trip so far (well, not quite as bad as cycling up a river bed in Kyrgyzstan). By the time we reached the national park gate we were pretty exhausted. The guards who manned the gate were super kind, quite used to the odd cycle tourist making it up here, and introduced themselves and then unlocked the toilet for us. Again, we felt very cared for and safe.

Small rural roads made us happy

Loving the lack of traffic

Sleeping a school

Breakfast set up

Towards the mountains!

Snapshot of a typical rural Malawian (and African really) market

Shopping for supplies

The dry and dusty road – how amazing are the women carrying stuff on their head?!

So we found the mountain..

Ever upwards to the national park boundary

Sleeping at the park boundary

The ride further up onto the plateau was hard, even though it was only 40km. After a day of seriously steep riding, we were tired. Some more seriously steep riding on slippery, stony dirt roads was challenging. Plus, there was the obvious threat of animals – nothing too menacing but elephants were a distinct possibility. We climbed and climbed and climbed. A few locals passed us in trucks, and one 4X4 with foreigners. Mostly though, we were alone with just the African bush, steep roads and sweeping views (of more steep roads).

Elephants are definitely around..

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By the time we reached the campsite on the Nyika Plateau, the sun was fading from the sky and the air was cold and damp. We were high up now, and the landscape was all rolling treeless hills, mist and crisp air. In many ways it reminded us of the Scottish highlands, instead of sheep we had various antelope, including my favourite the Eland. While hugely overpriced, the Chilinda campsite was rather lovely and came complete with a man who seemed to be employed solely to light our campfire and keep the fire for our (very hot, amazing) shower lit. Aside from the hot shower and the fire lighter (kind of my dream job), the campsite was super basic, but exactly what we didn’t know we had needed. Oh and it also came with two very nice NHS doctors who handed us beers on our arrival.

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Aside from the cold beers, friendly doctors and deliciously hot showers, Nyika gave us space to breathe and be still. While Africa is full of wild places, it is also full of people. And this is exactly what makes this continent so wonderful; it’s friendly, hospitable humans. The nature of the way that we travel ensures that we have dozens of small interactions a day, from chats at the water pump, to kids giggling at the funny mzungu on bikes, to buying food in small villages and asking about where we can put our tent for the night (when we can’t wild camp). We’re an understandable curiosity wherever we go, sometimes this means we unknowingly (or knowingly) crave the quiet places.

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View from our campsite

Morning eland

It could be Scotland…

The dramatic mist rolls in

Well the Nyika Plateau gave us that. We sat by the fire, went for misty morning walks, made flat bread and read our books. It was so quiet and so peaceful, sometimes zebra and antelope would come and graze in around our campsite. If it hadn’t been for the hefty price we would have stayed longer. However, our budget meant that after two wonderful days we needed to retrace our steps back to the park gate.

being watched

Flat bread happiness

Chilinda campsite, Nyika plateau

On our morning walk

Fire!

More moodiness

Of course this time it was all mostly down hill and much easier. We stayed again at the gate with the friendly guard lady and made tracks the following day. It was a steep descent, the one where your hands get tired from braking and you can’t quite believe you cycled up those hills. We needed food for the next few days and stopped at several small villages to try and stock up. Malawi is one of the poorest counties in Africa and there is certainly a lack of a variety of food to buy. I enjoyed the challenge of it. It felt very real and much more adventurous than heading into a supermarket and buying exactly what you want. We bought flour to make bread, rice, tomatoes, eggs, soya chunks and red onion. With some imagination we made some pretty delicious meals.

Nyika plateau

Back off the plateau causing a stir

Water collection

Chasing down the last of our supplies we took a slight detour up a dusty road, hoping we’d find a stall selling tomatoes and some cold beers. We found these and also a small bar, the type you find all over Africa and the kind I feel most foreigners probably don’t see. They’re usually simple wooden shacks, with a home made bar from where someone sells beers from an ancient fridge. Men will be crowded inside, often drinking and shouting above the blaring TV which will be streaming music videos. It’s always a lively place and we’ve always been treated with respect and genuine kindness. People seem happy to see us, even in these kinds of bars and every effort was made to make us feel welcome. After several funny conversations and exchanging of phone numbers (everyone wants our number and it often leads to a few weeks of exchanging texts before people inevitably grow bored of us) we left the bar and went back out into the bright African sunshine. We now had everything we needed for the next spot of relaxation.

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Vwaza Marshes national park was a short ride down the road and here we found more idyllic living. While, like everywhere in Africa, the national park fees were steep, they weren’t as steep as other places (Malawi has some of the most affordable fees so far for us). A guard then led us to simple shack, which overlooked a lake. Half an hour later we were sitting on our porch, drinking a beer and watching an elephant herd walk by. Life couldn’t get much better. While elephants came down to drink, hippos lounged in the shallows and the occasional nervous warthog family would make an appearance. It was simply one of the best places we’d been and the simplicity and beauty resonated deeply.

Our hut, Vwaza Marshes

Our view

Pretty happy

After two days enjoying the tranquility of the lake, the bellowing hippos (they really are very loud), elephant families and the beauty of watching the colours change over the landscape we left to hit more back roads towards Zambia.

Sunset, Vwaza

Hippos!

Morning yoga

Elephant family

More hippos

Hard life…

And some more

coffee time

Flat bread making. Serious stuff

Elephant footprint

Just ‘cos it’s so pretty

Feeling pretty chuffed

We biked along small dirt roads where not many tourists go. Children were polite and friendly (unlike other parts of Malawi where they beg quite a lot), adults bought us lunch, or helped us shop at the market just out of kindness and we genuinely felt welcomed and not like wallets on wheels. Pen wielding tourists have not yet found their way to this part of Malawi. Not that we had found it too bad at all, even in the more touristy places we’d been. However, many friends had reported they’d found the children in Malawi particularly tough.

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By the time we neared the Zambian border we felt not like leaving, but like staying to explore more. For us Malawi being the “warm heart of Africa” had rung true. People had been warm and welcoming, the scenery diverse and beautiful and we were certainly inspired to return someday. It remains one of our favourite countries in Africa.

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January 14, 2020 by foonbikeride

Fuelled by avocados, chapati and pineapple – a ride through Tanzania.

IMG-20190513-WA0021 Having accidentally overstayed our Kenyan visa (we had a month, instead of the 90 days we thought which was completely illegible on our visa) we were happy to be in Tanzania without having been relieved of any extra money. It was already dark, so a border official walked us over to a cheap hotel where we bedded down for the night. Our first impression was that both the hotel and the beer was very affordable.

Our route now was to pedal south and east towards Dar Es Salaam. We dropped down from the high plains surrounding Kilimanjaro, on smooth roads, surrounded by lush green. The rains had arrived and we were regularly soaked and muddy. Luckily for us, Tanzanian hotels are very affordable, and we were happy to spend a few dollars every night, rather than put up a damp tent in a field somewhere. It is very hard to dry out at all in the wet season!

“Top Jesus” we were highly amused by the trucks in Tanzania

Definitely in need of an umbrella!

So lush and green

Tanzania initially was rather soul sucking. After the thrill of whizzing down from the border, we were now faced with endless undulations, surrounded by rather dull monoculture sisal crops as far as the eye could see. Day after day we rode on the shoulder of a busy highway, wind in our faces, rain intermittently soaking us, pedalling over endless hills. Tanzanians don’t speak as much English as Kenyans, so we were faced with a bit of a language barrier as well (we’d been a bit lazy with learning Swahili) and unlike Kenya, a lot of people tried to rip us off on food when we stopped to eat. This makes interactions with people a little tiring, and it gets my back up, which is not a pleasant way to be. On top of this, we were killing poor Lucy. Having spent the best part of a year on the bikes, Astrid and I were used to doing around 100km a day. While not new to cycle touring, Lucy had had a tough time over the last few months and was not at peak fitness. Nor had she or I discussed how many kilometres we did on average a day, a massive oversight on both our parts. All of us being cycle tourists, we’d made a bunch of unwise assumptions, which was now causing us issues. Not only because we had to meet Doug and Niovi in Zanzibar, but also for the rest of Africa. We needed to pedal around 100km most days to feasibly make it through, especially with the side trips. Most days Lucy had to get on a bus in order to make the kilometres. While she quite enjoyed the bus rides, and it was awesome that this was an option, we did feel bad that we had to make her do this, and she in turn felt bad that she couldn’t pedal as fast as us. The camaraderie between us was great though, and we had fun in the evenings and mornings hanging out together, but on the cycling front we were proving to be somewhat incompatible at this stage in the game.

Endless hills

Saturated by the afternoon rain

So much sisal

It was a valuable lesson for us all; about the importance of communication and danger of making assumptions. And also about the dynamics of inviting someone to come cycle touring. When you are already on a trip, and invite someone along, it’s a very different dynamic to when you meet on the road. With Craig and Clo and the Habibi’s, we’d all been on our own tours already, with our own goals and route plans. We became a team because it worked at the time and we had all meshed together well. However, at the end of the day we were all independent travellers. While we looked out for each other, we didn’t have the same responsibility one does when someone joins your tour. At any point in time, we could have left to do our own thing (like when Ewaut left for a bit, or Clo headed off on the bus) and while we made decisions collectively about things like food and short term destinations, we all had our own longterm routes planned.

Lucy was also a vegan, so we made the best food together

With Lucy it felt more like we were dragging her along (even though she was having fun), at a speed that was uncomfortable for her. Plus we had more or less decided which way we would travel through Africa, and being a couple who are used to travelling together we were probably quite set in our ways when it came to daily chores and the way we go about our day. I felt increasingly like I was being unfair to Lucy, but not knowing exactly how to change the dynamic. We needed and wanted to get to Zanzibar, having made a commitment months ago to be there. Lucy too, was having second thoughts, not only because of our speed issues, but a variety of different and personal reasons.

Towards clouds and rain

The last few days into Dar, Lucy went ahead by bus to go and figure out what she wanted to do. We put in big, long days, both of us not really feeling it. In many ways we just wanted to be in Zanzibar, the endless somewhat boring road was wearing on our tired souls. After some discussion we came up with a compromise; Dar and Zanzibar were side trips anyway, so we would ride to the turn off, and take a bus into the city. On our way out in a few weeks, we would take the bus back to the same spot, ensuring a continuous cycling line through Africa. Not that we cared that much, but we did care a little!

So many shades of green

The bus journey reminded me again why we had been so adamant at avoiding putting our bikes on transport this time around. We were instantly surrounded by men trying to rip us off, our bikes were then questionably secured on the roof (causing us anxiety the whole way) and although a price had been agreed, we then needed to argue about it again (like always). Then finally, the 140km journey took over 5 hours as the bus stopped every few minutes, driven at dangerous speeds in torrential rain. On the bus I also got an awful phone call from Lucy. She’d been a victim of a temporary abduction and assault. A guy had scammed her to get her into a taxi and then taken her to an ATM to clear out her account. This had not succeeded as she hadn’t had her cards on her, but they had terrorised and assaulted her when she couldn’t deliver. Eventually they’d let her go, relieving her of only her camera and a few dollars. At that moment speaking to her on the phone in that crowded bus, I hated Tanzania. Both Astrid and I were now desperate to get to Lucy and the endless bus journey was nerve wracking on another level. Of course we’d been mislead as well, and the bus didn’t actually take us into Dar, like they had said. So at 7pm at night we found ourselves still 20km out of the centre, it was dark and the roads were narrow and completely suicidal to ride.

Drink stop

We spend a lot of time listening to podcasts

What to do? It was one of those moments where I realised how adept we are at traveling and how things rarely fazed either of us anymore. We went into a crowded market and I found a rich looking guy in a fancy car and asked him for help (cos I figured correctly he would speak english). Being Africa, he was only to happy to assist (it was a good reminder given Lucy’s current circumstances, that on the whole Africans are incredibly kind). Within a few minutes he’d called a friend who came to get us (at a price, obviously). Soon us and the bikes were crammed into a makeshift taxi, whizzing towards the city.

“avocado rice” one of our favourites

Tanzania is hard.

Finally after more than 6 hours of travel we reached Lucy and gave her a massive hug. She was in remarkably good spirits, given her ordeal. We talked and talked, ordered room service and drank beers well into the night.

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Lucy had already decided that she was going to fly back to Europe from Dar, before the assault. It just wasn’t the right time for her to be traveling in Africa by bicycle. So the next day we helped her pack and organise her things. It felt sad to see her go, she really is a remarkable human. I think this experience with someone less amazing could have really gone badly, given all the hurdles we’d come up against. Even before what happened in Dar, the three of us had managed to negotiate a challenging situation with compassion, open communication and understanding. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that our cycle together hadn’t worked out. And I think it showed a lot of strength and insight for Lucy to make the decision she did to go back to Europe. Not to mention how amazingly calm and philosophically she had dealt with the horrible abduction/assault. She really is an amazing individual. We promised each other that one day we would plan a tour together somewhere in the world.

Scrabble and beers on our final night together

It was now time to go and meet Doug and Niovi who had just arrived on Zanzibar. For weeks Doug and I had been sending each other screen shots of the weather in Zanzibar as the forecast had been more or less torrential rain. So I was pleased to arrive in Stone Town with blue skies and sunshine. It was the end of the wet season and we’d all been slightly concerned it would still be pouring.

Riding on the beach, Zanzibar

Most days were like this..

Many hours were spent in this pool

We found Doug and Niovi by the pool of their hotel and there was a lot of excited hugging. Niovi had only met us once or twice before when she was really little, but it wasn’t long before we were all playing together in the pool. And this was pretty much how we spent the next two weeks. I’ve never been on holiday with a 4 year old before, but it was awesome. Niovi was so much fun. We played in the pool and the sea, went for walks, played more in the pool, danced, played games, read books and watched amazing sunsets. At night Doug, Astrid and I drank too much vodka and caught up on life. The weather was mainly awesome. After a few days of rain, the skies cleared and we had hot sunshine and blue skies. One night we built a fire on the beach and got pizza delivered (to the beach). Another day we went snorkelling. But mostly we just hung out and played in the pool. It was very relaxing and a lot of fun. Doug had kindly treated us to an amazing villa for a few of the days, which was complete bliss. Zanzibar is an incredibly beautiful island and it was such a treat to just slow right down for a bit.

So much fun with these two

Beach walks

Relaxing

Beach fire

Beautiful sunsets

Hmmmm Vodka?

More beach walks

Stone Town walks

Niovi’s artistic impression of our holiday

Happiness

More blue

Dreamy susets

Cocktails…

Boating

Night sky loveliness

Pool or sea? Hard choice.

Our amazing temporary home

One can never get sick of this view!

Watching green fairy maintenance (:

Astrid and I were sad to see Doug and Niovi go, but grateful they had come to see us, and for their friendship. We pedalled back to Stone Town and celebrated one year since leaving London. It was now Eid, so Stone Town was full of celebrating families and we enjoyed the night market and energy a lot.

View over Stone Town

Stone Town is known for its doors

More amazing doors

Stone Town

amazing architecture

Exploring the backstreets with Lucas, another cyclist.

Sunset beers and one year on the road

Night Market, Stone Town

Sunset fun, Stone Town.

From Stone town we headed back the the main land via the cheaper night ferry and spent a few days with a Warmshowers host, Elaine and her two lovely kids. We needed some time to re group and prepare for the road ahead, mentally as well as physically. In many ways it felt like we were about half way, from here we would be heading southwest to Malawi and into southern Africa.

The road awaits

But first a small break

And some lunch

By the time we began to pedal again the wet season was well and truly over. It was hot and sunny and fruit was on sale on the side of the road. I actually need to mention the food in Tanzania. While the diet in the local cafe’s remained pretty dull and nutritionally lacking – cooked to death beans, ugali and chips, the availability of fresh food was wonderful. Markets were brimming with avocados (about 10p each), tomatoes, bananas, papaya and pineapples. Oh and you could pick up freshly cooked chapati for a couple of pence. Needless to say we lived off avocado and tomato wraps, fresh fruit, and we even began to make avocado chocolate mousse. When we cooked for ourselves we were certainly eating like queens.

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From the coast we headed inland and through our first national park where we saw elephants. That was a huge highlight, seeing these humungous creatures chilling under a tree, ears flapping in the afternoon heat. We also saw giraffes and a myriad of different antelope which made us grin from ear to ear. From the national park (Mikumi) we climbed up and into a wondrous valley of baobabs, and then higher up to the fertile plains around Iringa. Here there are many huge farms, and we had the fortune to be invited to stay at one. Our friend had put us in touch with a friends of hers; Mark and Mel and this is where we now headed.

Mikumi National Park

Fine for animals

Elephants!

The amazing baobab valley

So magic

Coffee and tree happiness

We arrived in the dark and woke up to this

They look a bit like ancient spirit people..

They were absolutely wonderful people. Mark was one of the managers at the farm and the first thing he did was give us a box of veg to eat. While we had already been eating well, Tanzanian’s (and everywhere else we’d been too) seem to have a habit of all farming and selling the same products. You can be riding along the road and see 10 stalls all selling onions. Or tomatoes. Or avocados. While you can get a lot of things, there isn’t a huge diversity. So to have baby corn, mushrooms, cucumber, broccoli and cauliflower was a massive treat.

All the vegetables!

Exploring the farm

Beer o clock

Our days soon went like this: wake up, copious cups of tea. A hike around the farm. Breakfast. Discussion about what dishes to make. Recipe research. Bread baking. Food prep that went all day, interspersed by cups of tea. Sunset beers on the balcony. Cooking. Amazing dinner. Hanging out together, reading, or finally watching Fleabag. Repeat. Needless to say, it was hard to leave. Mel and Mark are super amazing people and the time with them gave us the normality we didn’t know we’d been craving. It gave us a kind of peace we hadn’t experienced for some time.

Tea and reading

Awesome breakfast

Mark and Mel who looked after us so well

Traveling in Africa, and traveling in general is of course amazing. We are so privileged that we get to do this (and also we’ve made unconventional choices about how we want to live life) but it doesn’t mean that at times we aren’t challenged. Africa especially can be confronting and wearing on the soul. Not only are you the centre of attention in most places, but you are very aware of your own privilege. You can’t hide from it and it’s inadvertently pointed out to you at many opportunities. You are often asked for money and after months, it can feel a little dehumanising. I don’t know exactly why, but Tanzania was a our down point. Having had friends join us, and the sanctuary of Mark and Mel’s had also highlighted some of what had been lacking; community, normality, friendship. In a place where you are understandingly always viewed as ‘the other’ this was something we had deeply and unconsciously missed. Perhaps it was somewhat more intense for Astrid and I; being a same sex couple in a continent that has some of the most violent and ingrained homophobia, is on some level quite exhausting. We’d never felt threatened, but had to constantly police our behaviour and wonder how we would be perceived if people knew.

I have a pineapple!

We may have left Mark and Mel’s with slightly heavy hearts, but like all things, this too passed. It was interesting how difficult leaving had been; psychologically we’d been dreading going out onto the road but within a few days we were back in the swing of wild camping, buying delicious fruit and veg from the market, laughing with locals and climbing up into the mountains. It seemed that our rest really had cleared our souls as nothing was as hard as we had imagined it would be.

For our final leg of Tanzania we had decided to head high up into the mountains onto the Kitulo plateau. It was some of the best riding we’d done, and certainly the best in Tanzania. For days we climbed, along dirt roads, through smaller and smaller villages until we were finally high above the clouds. We made a point to wild camp right up on the plateau and it was certainly up there with picturesque spots we’d slept in.

Towards the mountains

Heading towards Kitulo, some of the most beautiful riding!

Hard work, but so worth it!

For roads like this!

And this

High above the clouds

Slightly misty

A choice spot to camp

Contemplating the descent

After our brush with the clouds it was a heady descent back to sea level and the Malawian border. Unfortunately, Tanzania wasn’t quite done with us. The day we were to pedal the last leg to the border, I was struck down (again) with some god awful stomach issue involving endless fevers and diarrhoea. Luckily we had antibiotics and while I lay around waiting for them to work and feeling miserable, Astrid brought me food and drinks and was generally awesome. After two full days of living in a rather dim and depressing cheap hotel, I had recovered and it was finally time to bid Tanzania farewell.

Finally leaving the hotel!

We wooshed passed beautiful tea plantations down towards Lake Malawi and Southern Africa, excited and thrilled about what lay ahead.

November 1, 2019 by foonbikeride

Pedalling through Kenya

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Kenya obviously came with a massive sense of relief. We had survived Ethiopia. I have rarely been so happy to leave a country. The same slight sense of nervousness of the unknown still accompanied me over the border, however there was little feeling that it could be any worse than what we had just encountered. And Kenya was certainly probably everything and more than we had hoped for. The feeling of space and peace we felt wild camping with not a soul around that first night was immense.

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The riding days were still hard, at least physically. This is Kenya’s northern frontier, a vast expanse of desert like country, sparsely populated by the Semburu (a people related to the Masaai) of whom many live a nomadic existence based on cattle herding. It’s hard country, very dry and very hot with water often two days walk away for the cattle. The people eek out an existence on the meager fertile land (especially right now, in a drought) and we were told on more than one occasion that many Semburu carry AK47’s and that they sort out their own disputes, with very little (or no) police involvement.

“Areti’s hotel for delicious food” we were sold. It was indeed delicious.

Not much out here but camels and cattle

The hardest part of this frontier ride for us was the wind and the water. We were hit by ferocious, hot, cross winds that slowed us and made riding tough, and water is also harder to come by. It is so dry out here that it is common to see children and adults standing on the road holding out water bottles and shouting for water from passing trucks and cyclists. We barely had enough water for ourselves and were shocked to see the basically large puddles of brackish water that constituted the people’s drinking water. We too collected our drinking water from these brown puddles, but unlike the locals we could double filter ours. It’s hard not to feel that some simple water harvesting techniques such as water tanks for storage and guttering for roof run off could make a world of difference. Especially when we saw that government places like police stations had exactly this.

They were not joking!

We took it in turns to break the wind

Warm beer was common in Kenya, sadly.

This is how we all felt just prior to arriving in Marsebit

By the time we reached Marsebit, we were all quite shattered and in need of a rest day. Henry’s Camp was a true oasis and possessed hot water and the cleanest bathrooms I’d seen in months. We recuperated with beer and plenty of food. None of us particularly wanted to leave, but Astrid and I had signed up to do a Vipassana meditation retreat in Nairobi and needed to get there. Craig decided to join us on the cycle south.

Day off breakfast beers

This place was such a haven

Henry’s camp, such a sweet spot

The next few days were marked by long hot days in the saddle, sweet milky tea and chapatti breaks in tiny restaurants, camping behind pubs and even an invite to a Semburu house for lunch. Everyone was super friendly, and almost everyone spoke English. It was a joy to be able to communicate in a more meaningful way and learn about the lives people lived out here.

A foggy descent from Marsebit before more heat

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South of Archer’s Post, the old colonial frontier, things began to change. There was less of a wild west feel and more development. We began to climb towards Mount Kenya; the area became much greener with fenced farms and fruit for sale on the side of the road. Rolling into Nanyuki we got a reverse culture shock; coffee shops, supermarkets and all the trimmings of modernity. And also something else. Something that took us a while to put our finger on, but which revealed itself over the next few weeks – Kenya in places, especially Nanyuki and later Nairobi, felt in many ways still so colonial. Many white Africans lived in beautiful homesteads (or houses), mostly sheltered from the everyday hardships of modern Kenya. A lot of old British traditions still linger on, and having just lived in England, it felt in many ways, quite British. I guess for us Kenya was also the first time we’d come in contact with white Africans and there was a stark contrast between how they lived and most Africans we’d come in contact with so far. Not to mention the fact that everyone has a maid, gardener and nanny (or a variation there of). You don’t actually have to be rich to have help in Africa, in time we met people from all walks of life, many middle or even lower middle class families who had hired help. There is no doubt that in a country where unemployment is a huge issue, that this gives valuable income to people. I guess it’s just so different from how we grew up, and on some fundamental level makes me uncomfortable. Over the next few months Astrid and I were probably constantly annoying various maids by trying to be helpful. I think we just need to accept that we can’t make a bed that well! Anyway, I have massively digressed! In Nanyuki, in a supermarket carpark we were lucky enough to meet Joost (who enlightened us on many quirks of Kenya). Joost, originally from The Netherlands has lived in Nanyuki for 20 years and very kindly invited us to stay in his garden. His home is gorgeous with views of Mount Kenya, surrounded by trees and flowers. We all sat on his porch that first night, sharing food and wine and felt so very fortunate. Joost is such a kind soul, and let us store our bikes and panniers while we headed to Nairobi for the meditation retreat the following day. Craig stayed behind to work on his blog and rest and we would find him in much the same position two weeks later.

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Joost and Eveline who kindly took us in

As we had run out of time to pedal, Astrid and I took a metatu to Nairobi. These are mini buses that leave when they fill up and are incredibly affordable. The driving can be hectic, but no more than other parts of the world we’ve been in! Once in Nairobi we took a local bus out to where the meditation retreat was going to take place.

On a metatu

A typical shop in Kenya, buying delicious avocado

Pedalling around Nayuki

What followed was an incredible 10 days. Astrid had already done one Vipassana retreat in the UK, but for me it was new. It was quite different to the one we’d both done in Thailand back in 2014 and I found it very rewarding. We meditated for 10.5 hours a day, starting at 4.30am and finishing around 9pm. Astrid had suggested that by fully committing I would get the most out of it. So I took her advice and I am glad I did. It was incredibly difficult at times, but so rewarding. I especially loved the secular nature of it and the humour with which Goenka uses to teach this very valuable skill. At the end I felt like I had had a mental health reset and was filled with even more enthusiasm and joy for life.

Sleeping quarter’s at the retreat.

Having completed the retreat, Astrid and I took two days out to relax. We rented a small cottage and treated ourselves to delicious food and some time alone together. It was a great way to not only process the meditation retreat, but also the last 6 weeks of craziness that had been Ethiopia.

Our awesome cottage

Enjoying the luxury of our own space and a kitchen

Delicious breakfast

On our return to Nanyuki we were happy to discover Craig was still at Joost’s place and we all decided to leave together. The rainy season, although late, had started to hint at arriving and we left under moody, heavy skies. Our route was not direct, as we wanted to avoid the main road into Nairobi and Craig was headed further west to Uganda anyway. That first day was particularly memorable as we got our first glimpses of giraffes and signs that elephants were about (although we didn’t see any actual elephants). Our lunch was shared with a Masaai guy herding his cows. Just another day in Kenya.

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Saying goodbye to Craig was sad and we all hoped our paths would cross again further down the road. Astrid and I continued on alone, sometimes on main roads, other times on dirt tracks as we slowly made out way to Nairobi. We got super excited at our first proper sighting of zebras and nearly lost our shit when we a saw giraffe cross the road in front of us. It was a joy to be out in the Kenyan bush, seeing all these amazing animals. One morning, after wild camping in the bush, we saw some zebras meander by as we drank our morning coffee, meeting all our fantasies of cycling in Africa. The rains did eventually find us just after we swept down into the very impressive rift valley. We sheltered in a crowded restaurant and ate hot chips, waiting for the storm to pass. That night it was too wet and populated to wild camp, so we asked at a police station (which is the norm for cyclists in southern Africa). We were not disappointed. The kind officers gave us a dry room in which to pitch our tent (luxury by our standards) and the next morning the boss invited us in for breakfast. It was interesting to hear his opinions about Kenya, while overall he felt things were moving in the right way, it was sad to hear that while very educated, many Kenyans face unemployment and that subsequent alcohol issues prevail in many rural villages.

Kind of a milestone

Looking out over the Rift Valley

Looking for wildlife

Such a good road – no cars

Zebra!!

The long way to Nairobi

Beautiful skies

Bush camp happiness

Happiness in camping in the bush

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Looking at a monkey creeper

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Outside the police station

Inside our hut

Police boss

We continued to get intermittently wet as we made our way down to lake Naivasha, a popular tourist spot for foreigners and locals alike. Unfortunately I had become ill – some kind of stomach problem associated with fever and opted to go the short way around the lake to the campsite we had decided to stay at. For hours I battled shitty roads and rain, going so slowly that Astrid who had ridden much further (and seen giraffes) only arrived 20 mins after me. At least there were hippos grazing right by the lake that night. We could hear them munching from our tent!

The equator! Another milestone

Giraffe!!

Lake Naivasha

Fishing

The watery sunset

So beautiful

Night hippos!

Making food at Lake Naivasha

We could have stayed at Lake Naivasha for days, but we were running out of time to get to Nairobi as a friend from England was soon to arrive to join us, and Vero who we were staying with and wanted to see, was only around for a short time due to work and family commitments. So, rather reluctantly we pushed to probably ride the worst 90km either of us have ever ridden. It was more or less okay until we had to climb out of the Rift Valley and then we were faced with the most fucked up driving I’ve seen since Iran. More than once we had to abort into the gutter. The road was narrow and full of seemingly suicidal truck drivers who would over take on double lines while going up hill on blind corners. It was harrowing and not helped by having to take ibuprofen or paracetamol every two hours to stop my temperature from spiking, a lack of energy from being ill, flat tubes and the encroaching dark. We rode the last 20km through the outskirts of Nairobi in the dark, fearing for our lives from the horrific traffic. People always come up with all kinds of reasons why Africa is dangerous – people, animals, crime, etc, but in reality, like everywhere else on the the planet, it’s deranged humans in metal boxes that are the most lethal.

Before the insanity, riding with Lake Naivasha in the distance.

We tried some back roads but were stopped by fences

Fixing a flat

Some of the stupid driving

I was so slow and struggled all day

Contemplating the beauty of the valley and near death

Reaching Vero’s felt quite momentous for a variety of reasons. Mostly it was just wonderful to see Vero and Gabe again. And probably because I was ill I very much appreciated being enveloped by all the comforts we usually happily go without – soft bed, hot shower, cats, oven, couch and wifi. Our time in Nairobi was spent resting, making food, hanging with cats and catching up with various friends – some that we’d made at the retreat, as well as other cyclists. Particularly exciting was meeting up with Evan – a touring cyclist we’d crossed paths with in Albania in 2015. We had a wonderful time with him and his partner Megan, which included a pizza and movie night with Gabe, as Megan had also stayed with Vero in Dushanbe when she lived there. Small world! Lucy also arrived, which was exciting and we all prepared for the next leg of cycling.

Being thoroughly spoilt in Nairobi by one of Vero’s colleagues, Pauline.

First washing machine since Aswan (Egypt)

It was great to finally meet Tristan, a fellow cyclist we’d been talking to on whatsapp in person for beers

One highlight that needs mentioning, and where photos will speak louder than words, is the Nairobi National Park. We were so lucky to be taken there by Pauline(a friend of Vero’s) one Saturday morning, and it is simply incredible how many wild animals live in the vast park so close to the metropolis of Nairobi.

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We were not ready to leave Nairobi, it’s the kind of city you could lose weeks in. Not only because there are things to do, but it’s the kind of place that attracts many people and is kind of a melting pot of expats and travellers. Also, because Astrid and I were still a bit tired – that kind of long term fatigue that sneaks up on you gradually. We could have spent a week reading, watching films and making food. However, we had a date with Doug and Niovi in Zanzibar and two weeks to pedal there. So, slightly reluctantly (although looking forward to Zanzibar) we hit the road south.

Heading south

And then there was three!

First however, we had a date with Patricia and her friends in the Ngong Hills. We’d met Patricia at the meditation retreat and she was a fellow vegan – something very rare in meat loving Kenya, and had invited us for dinner. It was one of the loveliest evenings and Patricia made the most amazing food.

Such amazing food

From the Ngong hills in the south of Nairobi we headed towards the Tanzanian border and the iconic Mount Kilimanjaro. We’d chosen a more off the beaten route which skirted Amboseli National Park – again due to Kenya’s incredibly high park fees, we did not visit, but enjoyed seeing the wildlife which doesn’t actually recognise the park borders. At night we camped in the bush, or next to people’s huts, or once on the roof of a pub. Kenyans are friendly and we felt incredibly safe and welcome. We snacked in local restaurants and were overjoyed to find cheap avocados and an abundance of chapatis. It was fun traveling as three and the rain mostly held off (although a nasty headwind began to slow our progress).

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A ‘Hotel’ in a typical place to eat

The kitchen

Beans and greens

Cooking breakfast

Camping next to a families huts

Astrid playing with the kids

One of our camp spots. We couldn’t resist the grass

On the roof of a pub

Soon we began to see the momentous Mount Kilimanjaro on the horizon, signalling our end to pedalling in Kenya. For me, this has been one of the loveliest countries to cycle through. People are incredibly friendly, it’s beautiful and safe (in our experience) and there are back roads to explore and animals to see. We both hope to return one day.

Last tea before the border

Kili under the clouds

Kenya was an absolute pleasure

foonsonbikes

Melbourne to London by bicycle. Then London home via Cairo to Cape Town.