Wombling Africa

2006-11-20T01:39:00.000-08:00

SOLD

Our trusty 110 has moved on and will be going back to Cape Town with Bill at the wheel. Lets hope he has more luck than he did with his Bike!!

http://www.africanantics.com/

2006-07-21T05:38:00.000-07:00

110 Receives Facelift

Still FOR SALE ..... (see blog entry below)

A quick respray, brake replacement and a couple of suspension bushes and we're ready for next months MOT.

2006-06-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

It's the end of the road as we know it and sadly for me an expedition prepared Land Rover isn't really practical for everyday use in Surrey!

So 7 months, 23,500 miles and some 19 countries later it is time for us to say goodbye and with that, regrettably, the 110 is now up for sale:

FOR SALE

Expedition Prepared Land Rover 110

1985 110 Station Wagon
300 TDI with R380 gearbox Ashcroft (New) Transfer box (approx 20,000 miles)
Replacement galvanised chassis
Steering guard
Front Diff guard
Bull bar
Heavy Duty suspension all round
Swing away rear wheel carrier (opens with rear door)
Strengthened bonnet spare wheel carrier
Second fuel tank (40 Litre mounted beneath drivers seat)
Sound proofing kit fitted
Twin battery set up with marine boat changeover switch
Raised air intake
Chequer plate bonnet and wing tops
40 Litre Engel fridge with fridge mount and cover
600 Watt power inverter
Roof tents (Howling Moon)
Howling Moon Awning
Howling Moon shower enclosure
2 20 Litre Water cans
1 20 Litre Fuel jerry can
Brownchurch Water purification system and shower
Safe
2 Fire extinguishers
Lockable secure cubby box (Safety Devices)
Roof mounted aluminum storage box
Sand Ladders (fibreglass)
Tow strap
2 Warning triangles
Bonnet mounted shovel
Built in Heavy Duty Vaiair compressor, air tank, air line and inflator
Rack mounted spotlights and rear worklight
Rear draw system and storage boxes
Rear food storage cupboards
Internal load lashing points
Hasp, Staples and Padlocks for all doors
4 Ft. Jackall high lift jack (bumper mounted)
Recaro (Vauxhall) front seats (Moved back for more legroom)
3rd seat behind passenger
Modified extended roof rack with log basket/jerry can holder
Rear half caged for security
Tinted middle and rear windows
Chequer plated rear door
Rear door drop down table
Additional power sockets
Aluminium storage boxes for spares bolted underneath
Stereo
2 folding aluminium chairs
Folding picnic table
Pots pans etc. if required…

2006-06-12T00:05:00.000-07:00

A Month in South Africa.....

A selection of photographs taken whilst relaxing during our last month in South Africa!

Penguins at Boulders beach

SA versus Australia the Test Match at Newlands, Cape Town

Uplands at Kwandwe

Mother and Baby Rhino at Kwandwe

Cheetah's relaxing at Kwandwe

Don't think he's seen us yet........

Or has he.......?

Discussing the day's game drives over dinner

Big beasty

Orange Rhino????????

Lion cub at Kwandwe

Black-Backed Jackall at Kwandwe

Yacht Sundowner at Knysna

Sunset over the Indian ocean

Enjoying a glass of wine

Who let Colin drive!!!?

Hello!

Relaxing and enjoying the sun

Come on Colin did you really think she'd go for that shirt!!!!?

Land Rover safely loaded and on its way back to Blighty....

Now it's our turn..........................

The sun goes down at the end of an awesome trip

Thank-you for following our trip.......

2006-05-15T03:37:00.003-07:00

South Africa Pt. 3 The End is in Sight

Crossing the border onto South Africa

Little Dassie at Augrabies falls

Lovely long straight tarmac toads all to ourselves

Easy target for Colin!

Worlds largest postbox in Calvinia

Cederberg Piekenaarskloof Pass

West coast of SA

Orinoco meets a long lost relative?

Taking it easy at Viljoensdrift

Floyd & Roxy at Robertson backpackers

Sand blasting at De-Hoop nature reserve

De-Hoop nature reserve on the South coast

Dune Mole at Arniston

South Africa's most Southerly point

Cape Agulhas lighthouse (most Southerly lighthouse)

Where two oceans meet

At the end of the cape

Cape point

Cape point

Text to follow shortly.....

2006-02-25T00:32:00.000-08:00

Namibia Pt. 4

Trans Kalahari highway

Weaver bird

Birthday sunset

Camping in the extinct volcano

Fish River Canyon

Heading South

Inquisitive cat

Namibia Pt. 4

4. Windhoek-South Africa

After dropping Nick at the airport we stayed in Windhoek for a few days so we could give the Land Rover a quick service, tighten all the bolts that had shaken themselves loose as well as catch up on our growing pile of washing. I spent my birthday lazing in the beer garden of the lodge we were camped at. Whilst I caught up on emails and things via the free wi-fi internet in the bar, Colin set about sinking a few beers to celebrate…! We then spent the rest of the day travelling South, before camping beside the road as the sun began to set.

Bukarros

With little in the way of bush camping in Southern Namibia we decided to head to a community run campsite located in an Extinct Volcano! With far reaching views this place was pretty cool and being the only ones there it also felt pretty remote. As the night crept on the winds began to pick up their pace leaving us with no option at midnight but to take the tents down and seek somewhere off the mountain and sheltered to camp. A couple of hours later (I think it was nearer four! - CW) and we were at the sheltered River Lowen where we’d previously spent an evening with Nick waiting for the floodwaters to subside.

Fish River Canyon

In the morning we were pleased to see that over the last week or so the river had gone down considerably and was now easily fordable. We packed up the tents and just as we were leaving an English guy arrived on his push-bike having cycled across Africa from Burundi! We chatted and swapped stories before heading to the Fish River Canyon. The Canyon was another in the long list of National Parks charging tourists too much for entrance, as such Colin went in and as I had seen the Canyon on a previous trip I waited at reception. The Canyon sells itself as the second largest in the world, next only to the Grand Canyon in the USA. As impressive as it sounds the place doesn’t seem to appear in real life as the guidebooks suggest it will...

We then drove South to the end of the Canyon and the Ai-Ais Hot Springs. The road drops steadily down to the base of the canyon, the temperature going up as you go. When we eventually got to the springs the temperature had risen to an all time high for us of 43.5 Celsius in the shade!! As we entered the campsite we couldn’t fail to miss the huge (40x20m) open-air swimming pool adjacent to the Fish river. We hastily got our swim stuff on and rushed down to the pool where we experienced “Africa at its finest”. The pool being fed by the hot springs was at a temperate of also 43Deg C! Ouch. We had a small swim and were surprised to feel the air cooler when we got out. If 43Deg C isn’t enough there is a small enclosure with a bench where you can paddle in waters at 65Deg C!!!!!!

With the Temperatures being so high everywhere we looked, we decided to leave the next day and made a break for the border, and hopefully something more bearable.

2006-02-25T00:24:00.000-08:00

Namibia Pt. 3

Chilling on the beach outside Swakop

Desert quadbiking

Cape Fur Seal

Pelican

Sosusvlei river in flood

Minor repairs

Crossing the tropic

Quiver tree

Namibia Pt. 3

3. Swakopmund-Windhoek

We left the beach early in the morning and headed into Swakopmund (known locally as “Swakop”). Having been under canvas for well over a month we headed to the Municipal rest camp and rented a chalet. We spent the day resting, sorting out our washing (mostly done by Nick!) and wandering round the town. The afternoon and evening became somewhat of a blur as we polished off one to many beers and a few too many Rum and Coke’s. To top it all off Colin and Nick made complete fools of themselves, some of which was captured on camera. At their request the photos were duly deleted.

With Colin’s birthday a day away, and seeing as we were in the adventure capital of Namibia, Nick and I popped into town in search of an adrenaline packed activity for the ageing birthday boy. As Nick and Colin had already turned down the idea of Sky Diving, we opted for desert quad biking instead. After a spot of lunch in a bar overlooking the ocean we headed off to the quad biking. In the beginning the quad biking was amazing, unfortunately for me the Greek salad I’d eaten at lunchtime decided to let me know that the chef hadn’t washed everything properly! The last 45 minutes of quadding saw me with excruciating stomach cramps followed, much to the amusement of the others, by a series of toilet trips behind the dunes in much the same fashion as Colin in Lesotho!! Still it gave the lads something to laugh about.

Following the quad biking we took some time to recover before leaving Swakop and heading in a Southerly direction to the famous Sossusvlei. Bush camping on the way to the Sossusvlei we saw our first rains in a long while made all the more interesting by the fact we had parked the Land Rover across the narrow channel of what turned out to be a dried up stream!

Sossusvlei

Arriving at the Sossusvlei we were confronted again by the tourist rip off prices (80N$ again or 8GBP each) for entrance to the park. We paid up and headed West along the park road to the world famous dunes. The dunes do live up to their image, although I’m not sure they are worth the entrance price! After a few hours climbing around the highest dune we headed back to the Land Rover with the intention of heading South for the evening. We were almost out of the park when we arrived at a queue of cars by a stream we had crossed on the way in. The stream was now a river in full flood and un-crossable! Two local lads unsuccessfully tested the water with their Toyota, it soon became clear none of us were getting across for a good few hours. With nothing else to do, and no other roads, we cracked open the beers, set a fire and started to cook dinner, Ostrich stew!

The local lads went off for a drive and about an hour later they returned, apparently they knew of an alternative route out of the park. We weighed up the options, stay by the river until the morning or follow the likely lads on what could well be a wild goose chase. We doused the fire put, the half cooked stew in the footwell and followed the locals. About half an hour later and after a small river crossing the lads had successfully led us all back to the main road where the river crossing wasn’t quite as bad as it was in the park. Whilst everyone else sat around looking at the river Colin and Nick waded in closely followed by me in the Land Rover! The river was indeed far easier to ford here although there was a small deeper section that nearly caught us out (see picture of the Germans following us). Soon after we had crossed those with 4x4’s followed, those in cars turned back in search of an alternative route and no doubt a long detour.

For the next few days we took in the sights of Southern Namibia and were hoping to visit the Fish River Canyon, unfortunately due to the rains the road we had taken was closed and the river Lowen in flood. We camped by the river in the hope that the level would fall overnight, watching storms on the horizon in the rivers catchment area it was clear that this river wasn’t going to be crossable for days.

Luderitz

We scratched the idea of visiting the Fish River Canyon choosing instead to detour via the coastal town of Luderitz. Known formerly for its diamond areas and mines the town is trying hard to improve its attraction as a tourist destination. At present there doesn’t really seem to be any reason to make the 600km round trip from Ketmanshoop other then to visit the former diamond towns nearby. We camped on the notoriously windy Shark Island, tried a bit of fishing before heading back inland the next day.

Windhoek

A few days later we were back in Windhoek where we went to Joe’s Beerhouse for a final meal with Nick before dropping him at the airport. Apparently Joe’s Beerhouse is the place to go in Windhoek and it definitely lived up to its reputation as a happening venue. Joe’s is like a piece of the countryside in the city. Once inside the walls you could easily be forgiven for thinking you were in some remote country lodge or pub!

After a stunning meal we drove to the airport and dropped Nick off. 3 weeks and over 3,000 miles three became two once more and we pointed the Land Rover South once again.

2006-02-25T00:11:00.000-08:00

Namibia Pt. 2

Top of Van Zyl's pass

Van Zyl's pass

Van Zyl's pass

Marienflus bushcamp

Lads at the Marienflus

Oryx

Golf practice in the desert

Bushcamp at Messum Crater

Skeleton coast park gates

Namibia Pt. 2

2. Epupa-Swakopmund

We set off at around 9.00 with Nick at the wheel. I’m not entirely sure that this was a good idea though. Nick is more used to driving Land Rovers around the highways and byways of England and he tends to forget that we are in the middle of Africa miles from civilisation. The roads to Van Zyl’s pass are typical of remote Africa and are little better than widened donkey tracks carving their way through the countryside. Nick set a good pace and soon we found ourselves at the start of the track, albeit a little shaken from the jarring roads taken at breakneck speed…!

Van Zyl’s Pass

Van Zyl’s pass was one of a number of tracks cut through the mountains by pioneering explorer Reinhold Van Zyl. The track tests both man and machine as you climb your way up and down rocky shale slopes tearing chunks of rubber from the tyres as you proceed. After a couple of particularly tricky sections we arrived at the top of the pass and were greeted with breathtaking views over the Marienfluss and the Hartman Mountains. In the distance we can just hear the groan of diesel engines, and later catch a group of Toyotas. It appears that they had left Epupa the day before us and were staggered at how quickly we had completed the journey (that’d be Nick’s right foot). The descent from the pass is a nerve-wracking experience, but thankfully not as scary as the tracks we had taken through Lesotho with Archie & Marietjie in December.

Marienflus

We continued a short way from the pass into the Marienflus before setting up camp next to a huge pile of boulders. We were quite literally “in the middle of nowhere”. It is hard to explain how remote this place is. We rose early and headed further South over Red Drum Pass (an old red oil drum being the marker point). Another exciting pass but not on the same scale as Van Zyl’s. We drive steadily through Kaokoland for the rest of the day in the hope that Fritz had been wrong and the Hoarusib wasn’t in flood. We arrived at Purros to find the river still down and easily fordable. Before setting up camp we headed up river in search of the elusive desert elephants. We managed to find a lone Bull and spent the best part of an hour watching him destroy a bunch of trees. He soon turned his attention towards us, and, leaving him to it, we departed the way we had come.

Damaraland

From Purros it was a long hot drive to Damaraland, stopping overnight in Kamanjab to collect much needed supplies. In Kamanjab we met up with Duncan, a Land Rover fanatic, top bush mechanic, and friend of Buffy’s. To use Buffy’s words “the Oliver Reed of bush mechanics!”. Leaving Duncan we followed a rather shabby shale track south, and after another remote bush camp we headed West to the Skeleton Coast National Park.

Skeleton Coast National Park

By now we had got used to the fact that the words “National Park” were synonymous with “tourist rip off!” Entrance fees for the Skeleton Coast NP had quadrupled since January 2005 meaning 80 N$ (or 8 GBP) each, with tourists or “foreigners” as they call you, paying the most! Seeing as we had made a special detour to see the park and with the only alternative being a lengthy diversion we paid up and entered the park. Being nothing more than desert wasteland it is hard to understand how the Government can justify such high entrance fees.

Messum Crater

Out of the park we headed South the Messum crater. Finding the crater was easy thanks to the maps we had photographed from Dan and Ingrid. The crater wasn’t exactly what we were expecting, it appeared as nothing more than a shallow area of ground, albeit a huge one. we headed South again to Damaraland and the Messum crater. Finding the crater was easy thanks to the maps we had photographed from Dan and Ingrid. The crater wasn’t exactly what we were expecting, it appeared as nothing more than a shallow area of ground, albeit a huge one.

The area surrounding the crater is far more impressive than the crater itself, as far as you can see it is open wasteland dotted with desolate mountains and huge piles of boulders. Disappointed we headed out of the crater in search of somewhere out of the wind to bush camp. We found a great spot, slightly sheltered, adjacent to one of the aforementioned piles of boulders some 30miles or so from the coast road and set up camp. On Nick’s insistence, with beers in hand, we climbed the massive boulder pile to sit and watch the sun go down.

The next day we headed to Swakopmund and tried our hands (unsuccessfully) at fishing and beach casting before making a fire and camping on the beach.

2006-02-24T23:58:00.000-08:00

Namibia Pt. 1

At Windhoek airport collecting Nick

Tortoise in Etosha

Chameleon at Eosha

Twig snake

Giraffe and Wildebeest

Lads at Etosha

Epupa falls on the Namibia/Angola border

Himba women at Opuwo

Namibia Pt. 1

January 18th February 17th 2006

1. Windhoek-Epupa

Namibia the land of clear blue skies, warm evenings and cold beer. With a few days to kill before Nick’s arrival (a visitor from the UK. At last someone has come to see us, Cheers Nick) we headed into Windhoek and the Chameleon City backpackers for some R&R. A pleasant place with friendly staff willing to sell you tours of Namibia aboard one of their trucks, or failing that cheap several beers from the bar!

Whilst killing time we met Dan and Ingrid in their Series 3 Land Rover. A crazy couple from Canada (Originally Europe) they and their trusted steed are heading North across Africa, Europe and beyond, although in 8 months they have only managed to get some 1000 miles or so from Cape Town. Their trusted steed has taken a bit of time to get used to, and Dan has practically rebuilt the thing since leaving the Cape. They have a website about their trip which is www.golivelife.com.

Etosha

The time eventually arrives to head to the airport to collect Nick, and loaded up with beer, water and diesel we headed North to the Etosha National Park. Things have changed a lot since I was here some 5 years ago and prices have quadrupled! We spend a couple of lazy days driving the park and watching various wild animals, we were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a couple of lions, but only from a distance.

Opuwo

Leaving Etosha we headed further North to the Namibia/Angola border on the Epupa falls. On the way we took a wrong road which turned into a huge 100km detour via Sesfontein where the temperature hit 38degC. We eventually pulled up for the night in Opuwo and were greeted by a dust storm followed by torrential rain. In the morning we headed back to town and stocked up the fridge for the run North.

Epupa

With the temperature creeping ever closer to the 40’s Epupa falls and the Kuene river were a welcome sight. Unfortunately for us the swimming in the river above the falls isn’t recommended due to Crocodiles! We broke out some cold beers and ended the day drinking rum and coke at the bar with Buffy (a charming TV producer, not the vampire slayer) who works freelance for the BBC and her friend Jamie, over from England for some R&R and a detox.

During the evening Buffy introduced us to Fritz, the owner of the lodge we were camped at. We got chatting and discussed our plans to tackle the notorious Van Zyl’s pass the next day. Fritz began to express concerns over attempting such a route without backup, explaining also how Namibia is currently experiencing its best (or for us worst) rains for decades. The rivers in the rains catchment area all eventually flow into one big river, the Hoarusib at Purros. The river is some 300 meters across and marks the end of our route. Apparently Van Zyl’s pass is only negotiable East to West and as such it is necessary to cross the Hoarusib. In full flow it can take days for the water to subside before you can get across. Colin could tell by the look in mine and Nicks eyes that these words are falling on deaf ears. In fact all Fritz has done is help us realise that this track is one that we just have to drive!!!!

The next morning we trade a water can for a couple of Himba dolls and head off to find Van Zyl’s pass…

2006-02-21T00:28:00.000-08:00

Botswana

Chobe National Park

Chobe Elephants crossing the road

Chobe Elephant charge

Mud splattering after the road to the border

Okavango Delta

Hire 4x4!

Botswana

Botswana/Namibia/Botswana

January 15-18th 2006

From Zambia we crossed the Zambezi river on a ferry boat and effortlessly (if you ignore the drinking of our 2 litres of fresh milk due to foot and mouth disease precautions) entered the top corner of Botswana. The border was a mere formality and soon we were on our way to fill everything up with cheap Botswanan diesel, or at least we thought we were.

As luck would have it the two filling stations near the border were both out of diesel, the next closest being in Pandamatenga some 100km (60 miles) away in the wrong direction. So with both tanks reading in the red and our jerry cans empty, we crept slowly and efficiently South towards Panda. But one & a half hours later, and some 7 miles short of Panda, the Land Rover quit. Fortunately, as we had put the LR together ourselves, we knew what we had to do to get further down the road…. I climbed underneath and removed the sump plug from our front fuel tank, thereby emptying the dregs of diesel into a conveniently placed water bottle. This magic “free” three-quarters of a litre was then poured into the rear (main) tank. Finally, on a wing and a prayer we rolled into Panda and stopped at their petrol station. Success!

Happily after a 100 litre fill-up and a 50 minute drive North, we were back where we started, and once again heading for Namibia. Our planned route took us out of Zambia and into the corner of Botswana. From here we drive the Caprivi strip in Namibia before heading South back into Botswana and the Okavango Delta.

Heading to Namibia took us through the Chobe National Park, thankfully as this is a transit route to Namibia from Botswana we didn’t have to pay. In the park we were lucky enough to see a herd of Elephant by the roadside, but the biggest one decided we had taken enough photographs and charged us. Perhaps he sees big grey Land Rovers as a threat?

Out of the park, out of Botswana, and into Namibia. At last we have returned to civilised border crossings, almost like being in Europe again! We spent a brief night in Namibia close to the Caprivi Strip before driving it the next morning where we saw quite a bit of wildlife, and caught a couple of baboons having relations on the road…..

The Caprivi Strip has for a long time been subject to cross border raids from Angola, and only in the last few years have tourists been able to make the journey without being part of a military convoy. After a long drive on a very long, very straight road, we turned South and back into Botswana.

Just our luck that Botswana and Namibia had the rains, and they were there with a vengeance; the road to the border was to put it simply a mudslide, what fun!! Border formalities over and we were off to the Okavango Delta to see what all the fuss was about. Two words can aptly describe our experiences here, Overpriced & Wet! The camping was 8GBP each and in the height of season these guys charge upwards of 400US dollars a cabin. The rains didn’t let up and the camping was simply an expensive washout. We heard from the guys running the lodge/campsite that the annual rainfall for the area was usually 300mm and they had already had over 700mm since January!

So in time honoured style we upped sticks and blasted along the Trans Kalahari highway bound for Namibia, and the promise of sunshine, blue skies and more cold beer.

2006-01-21T04:49:00.000-08:00

Zambia

Colin fixes the chair broken by the SA chaps

Luangwa Elephants

Luangwa Hippo

Luangwa Vervet monkey

Monkey attack!!

Coppers in Monze

Lads at the Vic Falls

Victoria Falls

Ferry to Botswana

Zambia

January 10-15th 2006

Leaving Mozambique was a slightly more difficult affair than our entry. The International Vehicle Carnet (passport) for the car was not actually authorised for Mozambique, so we should never have been allowed in! Anyway Colin managed to use his usual charm and “idiot-grin”, and shortly afterwards he was up in front of the Zambian officials trying to work the magic again…

From our travels it has become pretty clear that the British have upset quite a few African countries and Zambia is not an exception. Entry requirements for foreign visitors are often clearly displayed, and in a number of cases British visitors have to pay over the odds for an Entry Visa. Charming. The ironic thing with Zambia is that the entry visa of 65US Dollars can actually be waived if you make early contact with a backpackers establishment, lodge or hotel. Apparently all it takes is a written letter from one such organisation confirming that you are staying with them and your visa fee is waived. As we had been in a rush to leave the rains on the coast of Mozambique and the heat of Tete we had been unable to plan ahead and set up such a letter. Colin tried his best to convince the Immigration officials, but they were having none of it. To top things off even more, they would only accept payment for the visas with either US Dollars or GBP and eventually, begrudgingly, South African Rand; and definitely not in their own currency the Zambian Kwacha!!!

Anyway after some to-ing and fro-ing, and an appalling Rand exchange rate (thieving swines) we were on our way up the road to pay for the mandatory insurance. Just our luck that the lady in charge of this particular rip off was out of town for the day, so nothing for it but to carry on and hope the coppers didn’t pull us.

Our plan was to spend a while in Zambia taking in a game park or two and lazing away some time as we weren’t due to pick up a friend in Namibia until late January. Taking the advice of some South Africans we had met in Mozambique we headed for the popular South Luangwa game park in the North East of the country. The journey was fairly uninspiring and pretty boring, especially the last four hours that we spent on a bone shattering corrugated dirt road.

Unfortunately for us the game park had recently put up their prices, our entry would have cost us some 100 US dollars for 24 hours (incidentally the 24 hours can be split up over two days, no use to us though). We looked into joining an organised game drive at the lodge we were camping at but this was even more expensive than taking our own vehicle. So we spent the next two days watching hippos in the river next to the campsite and were even fortunate enough to see a herd of Elephants over the river. I shared my breakfast one morning with a greedy little Vervet monkey, I went to get the camera only to return and find him face down in my cereal bowl. The little critter was a bold soul and even tried to attack us! Whilst at South Luangwa we spoke with some touring Germans who informed us that the other parks in Zambia were as expensive as this one, so there was nothing for it but to check out the Victoria Falls and get out of this expensive country.

We broke our journey in Lusaka where we met two South Africans in a Land Rover stranded by the side of the road with a broken alternator. We offered them our spare and a tow to the nearest campsite, but their friend was on his way so they declined the tow but readily accepted the offer of the alternator so long as we could fit it for them! Two hours later they arrived at the campsite with a tale of woe. Whilst waiting for their mate’s tow they had been accosted by a bunch of local drunks and were now a little lighter in the wallet. At least no one got hurt. The next morning we grafted the spare alternator onto their engine and bid them farewell as we left for Livingstone. On our way there we were stopped and fined for speeding (68kph in a 65 zone) and managed to blag our way through roadblocks checking on insurance with our Carnet. It is funny how an officious looking document with actually no mention of the word insurance can satisfy some policemen.

So, one of the highlights of this leg of the trip was approaching, The Victoria falls. The “smoke that thunders” on the border with Zim and Zam. We saw them at the beginning of the rainy season, and they were definitely as impressive (and wet!) as everyone had told us. But alas entry to this was way more expensive than the guide books had told us, the fees having gone up last year to just over ten pounds each.

So, the next morning we decided we had had enough of high prices (national parks, fuel, camping fees, food, bread, milk, you-name-it-etc.), and not wanting to further tempt fate with our barely adequate “insurance”, we made a beeline for the border and the ferry into Botswana….

2006-01-21T04:33:00.000-08:00

Mozambique

South Africans packing awat their toys!

Lekker Dop with the SA's

Bamboozi beach during the storm

Bamboozi at Tofo after the Cyclone

Mud roads

Vilanculo beach

Pineapple boys

Chicamba Dam in the mountains near Zim

Mozambique

Border formalities into Mozambique were pretty easy and dare I say smooth, within 15 minutes we had purchased the mandatory 3rd party insurance (worthless paper), had our passports and the Carnet stamped and we were heading for the coast.

Past wars and power struggles have left Mozambique with a generous littering of Minefields. Foreign companies have made a fortune clearing many of the mines but a few do remain and of course there is also the niggling thought at the back of your head about the ones that people have forgotten they put there!

From the border we headed generally East and North in search of the warm waters of the Indian ocean and a beach. We passed many South Africans with trailers and boats in tow (often both behind one monster sized 4x4) heading back South at the end of their Xmas breaks. We stopped off for a few days at the beach resort of Xai Xai where we met a rather enthusiastic bunch of South Africans complete with a 9x6 ft freezer trailer who were insistent on us joining them for a “lekker dop” (drink) on their last night. A couple of drinks later and we were on the back of one of their 5 quad bikes (this one was a two-seat pick up!) heading for a sundowner and a play in the dunes, cool…. South Africans it seems take everything with them on their camping trips including the kitchen sink, barrels of fuel and water, all the food and meat one needs for a two-week holiday on the coast, oh and of course all the beer one’s likely to consume.

The morning after our “lekker dop” and with sore heads we packed up the Land Rover and headed North to the surfers paradise resort of Tofo. We camped at a backpackers type place run by Land Rover enthusiasts going by the name of Bamboozi. A chilled out kind of place particularly suited to surfer dudes and those that don’t mind sand everywhere. The place is dotted with palm trees and the bar has been built on the top of the dunes overlooking the turquoise waters of the ocean. A tropical paradise that won’t last long when the Ibiza types find out about it.

All was well until the winds came, we should have seen this coming a mile off. The last time we camped under coconut palms was in Ghana and that ended with a wrecked 4x4 (not ours) and a great deal of mess. The winds continued through the night and the next morning people were talking of a tropical Cyclone heading our way from Madagascar, the advice was to leave ASAP. Someone with a radio later downgraded this to a tropical depression. How bad can a bit of wind be??? We could handle it, couldn’t we? And so we went to the bar to sit out the early evening rain and wind. Well by nightfall the winds hadn’t let up and we had no choice but to retire to our rooftents. At about 01:30 hours it was all too clear that our decision to remain in the campsite was pretty stupid. The winds by now were at gale force and the tents were struggling to remain upright and Colin was dealing with an ever-increasing flood (from the rain) in his tent. The owners of the place were busy extracting everyone else from their tents and rondel huts and depositing them inland at their house. We packed up the tents in the dark and within seconds of getting out were soaked through. Alas there was no room at the inn and as we had a Land Rover the owners said we’d be safer in it! Cheers. We spent the rest of the night soaked to the skin sitting in the LR and at first light we retrieved our passports from reception and headed North in search of the Sun.

After Tofo we popped into the divers paradise of Vilanculo to meet up with an English guy we’d met in Durban. Vilanculo is some 150 miles North of Tofo and by chance hadn’t experienced any of the weather we had seen in the South. We dried out the tents, got some washing done and had a bit of R&R before we headed inland in search of Zambia. We had hoped to spend longer in Moz, and explore the Northern coastline but time and cash constraints meant something had to go.
On the way to Zambia we stopped off at a campsite/hotel resort in the mountains close to the border with Zimbabwe. A great place to chill for a few days but without much to see or do I think two days is enough. Fuel prices in Zambia are slightly higher than the already expensive Mozambique so unfortunately we had to dig deep and fill everything up (40 Gallons) at close to UK prices. The last filling station is in the rather strange town of Tete known locally by the missionaries as being simply “as hot as Hell”. Tete is on the banks of the Zambezi and being surrounded by hills it is effectively in a bowl that gathers heat from all around. We had planned to stay there, but with the temperature gauge reading 40 degrees C it was time to leave for somewhere cooler. So after 4 hours driving we spent our last night in Mozambique camped by the customs gate on the border with Zambia.

2006-01-21T04:27:00.000-08:00

South Africa Part 3

James inspects another Land Rover

South Africa Part 3

Our third visit to South Africa was a brief encounter and was only really to give us a chance to dry out, buy some supplies and ready ourselves for Mozambique. We spent the best part of a day sorting things out and then crashed out at the Spice of Life backpackers in Komatipoort on the South boundary of the Kruger adjacent to the Mozambique border.

Spice of Life is run by the wacky Cameron and his down to earth expectant other half Yolandy oh and their three dogs, well two actually but Tiger has been there so long he seems to think its his home. They’re full of advice for crossing the border and seemed keen for us to take Tiger back to his proper owners in Moz. I think not. Whilst lazing at the Spice of Life we were able to upload blogs and check mail had we known this would be the last time for a while we might have done more.

New Years Eve passed pretty quietly with none of us being in the mood for partying. On New Years Day we packed up and headed East to Mozambique.

2005-12-31T05:16:00.000-08:00

Swaziland

Swazy papermill

Swaziland motorway...!

Nature reserve campsite

More mud roads

Road to the border

Swaziland

Heading out of South Africa into Swaziland reminded us that we were once again heading into “Rural” Africa. From the moment we arrived at the border we could see the familiar sights we had grown used to in other parts of Africa. At the Swazi border we had to move the LR so that more cars could fit into the small car park. I suspect they are lucky to see a handful of cars a day but hey it’s their country and if you don’t like it you can’t come in! Africa Huh.

Shortly after leaving the border we were up in the clouds amidst drizzle. We pressed onwards and after several hours we begun to get pretty fed up. We managed to locate the Capital City (also in the cloud and rain) and from here we headed North West to the Nature Reserve (also in the cloud and rain!!!). As if the day couldn’t get any worse we found out that prices have recently been increased. The lady on reception spent a while showing us the map of the park and identified a number of spectacular view points should we like a drive in the morning! With nowhere else to go, and getting late, we set camp for the night for the princely sum of 18GBP.

We got up pretty early in the rain, yes it was still raining, long term outlook was for even more rain! So we packed camp and headed back to the relative warmth of South Africa via a wet, muddy slippery road through the forest that would have done the RAC Rally proud!

2005-12-31T05:03:00.000-08:00

South Africa Part 2

CW with Kerbie

Land Rover maintenance!!

Drakensberg Amphitheatre

Black Rhino

4x4 route at Itala

Zebras at Itala

Itala game reserve

White Rhino

South Africa Part 2

It was approaching Christmas when we escaped the mountainous hold of Lesotho and headed back into South Africa. Archie led the way and managed to miss the turning for the border post, thankfully he found the next one and it only cost us a 20km detour! The border officials on both sides were very friendly and in a matter of minutes we were back on SA tarmac heading East to Clarens.

Clarens is a small town, just south of Bethlehem (south of Jo’berg), that would fit pretty nicely into an American soap were it not for the township style settlements on the approach roads. It was our intention to stop off at a campsite in the mountains near Clarens to recuperate before heading to Bethlehem for Christmas. Nothing ever goes to plan and we eventually spent a pleasant (but windy) Christmas in the mountains at a ranch called Bokpoort.

Drakensberg

From Bokpoort we headed south to the North Drakensberg mountains to take in the scenery and maybe a walk or two. We stayed in a campsite in the National park at the foot of the famous crescent shaped mountainous rock formation known as the Amphitheatre.

We thought long and hard about doing a walk but decided against it and took a stroll up the nearby river instead.

Rourkes Drift

Made famous by Michael Caine in ZULU, Rourkes Drift was in reality a bit of an anti climax. Nothing remains of the original buildings and as the guide-book tells you, the buildings there today are similar but perhaps not in the right place. Oh well at least we made the effort and paid a visit, and Colin got to shout “Oi, don’t throw spears at me!” across the plains…

Ithala Game reserve

After leaving Rourkes Drift we headed to a small game reserve called Ithala, the reserve is East of Lesotho and the Drakensbergs, close to South Africa’s border with Swaziland. Camping in the Reserve is allowed in a dedicated site with no electricity, hot water or fences! We weren’t expecting much as it was pretty cheap to get in, camping for two for the night was abound 8 GBP (it would have cost us at least four times that just to get into the Kruger). It basically rained from the moment we arrived until we put our tents away at 05.30 in the morning. That morning we were pleasantly surprised and saw a large array of animals including; Giraffe, Boks (not sure what type but they look like small deer), Baboons, Secretary birds, Black and White Rhino etc….

After a couple of hours of driving round in the drizzle we got bored and decided to head to Swaziland to take a look at a Nature Reserve Archie had recommended…..

2005-12-31T04:21:00.000-08:00

Lesotho

Approaching the Sani pass

Sani pass

Beer at Sani lodge pub

Ski equipment at Sani lodge

Black mountain pass

Local kids

Steep tracks

San rock art

Convoy with the SA boys

Storm brewing

High in the mountains

Archie follows on the 4x4 route

4x4 Route donkey trail!

Archie follows...

4x4 route

River bushcamp

River views

Local kids

The lads at Katse Dam

Lesotho

The Sani Pass, some 5km or so long effectively forms the no mans land link between the two border posts. The pass is only open to 4x4 vehicles and in winter months it is often closed due to snowfall. The track, first negotiated by a vehicle in the late 1940’s, is an impressive undertaking that consists of a dirt road that ends in a series of unfenced hairpin switchbacks that climb some 800m up the face of the mountain. In the summer it’s a pretty easy drive (just avoid the drop!) and a big draw for tourists who come for the pub and scenic views. Unfortunately for us half way up the clouds decided to close in and we were robbed of the famous Sani views (thanks to Archie and Marcus for their pics!).

Entry into Lesotho was nearly as easy as leaving SA, although there did seem to be a slight language barrier, and the customs office smelt of cow poo.

After a quick pint in the Sani Lodge we headed on into Lesotho and over the 3,200m Black Mountain pass (that’s about two miles high). From the top of this pass one clearly begins to understand where Lesotho gets its name as the Kingdom in the sky. As far as the eye can see the view just goes on and on with mountain after mountain.

For the next few days we battled with pass after pass on what can only be described as dirt tracks. We bush camped with a bunch of about 20 people from SA who knew the area well. The next day we were able to see San rock art. Being so high meant we were closer to the clouds, and with the clouds comes rain, and boy does it rain. We were “lucky” enough on one occasion to witness an almighty thunderstorm with a number of lighting bolts striking within meters of the LR.

Shortly after arriving in Lesotho CW went down with Gastro-enteritis! The monotony of the passes, the uncomfortable bad roads and the frequent toilet stops were taking their toll on the poor wee lad so we headed to a backpackers lodge in the West. It was here that we had the pleasure of meeting Archie and Marieke, a hiking couple in a Toyota (nobody’s perfect!) from up near Jo’berg. Over several glasses of wine Archie told us about a recently opened 4x4 route that they were thinking of tackling. Foolishly, we readily agreed to accompany the Toyota crew in their quest.

Two days later and after another day of bad roads and mountain passes we assembled at the Semonkong lodge at 06.30 for the off. Archie asked us to lead the way (something about Land Rovers being better than Toyotas I think). We set off and were soon in the clouds above Semonkong. For the ensuing 6 hours or so we crept like snails some 42 miles over the mountains along what are best described as primitive donkey tracks. From the first hairpin bend filled, shockingly steep descent, it became very clear why Archie asked us to lead…. Cheers Archie!!!

Eventually the 4x4 route came to an end and Archie found a quiet place to bush camp by the river near to the Katse dam. In the morning we were overrun with local kids and as we were about to leave they started begging in earnest. We left pretty promptly and took a tour of the Katse dam. After the tour we headed out of Lesotho but only several more mountain passes this time thankfully on tarmac!

2005-12-31T04:06:00.000-08:00

South Africa Part 1 - Durban

CW at Hippo hide

CW plays dead

Road to Sani backpackers

Sani backpackers to SA border

4x4 only

Road to Lesotho and the Sani pass

South Africa Part 1 - Durban

Upon arrival in Durban, we headed for a backpackers place in the hills above the city, known as the Hippo Hide Lodge. From here we were able to make contact with the Shipping Agent only to find out that our ship was running even later than we had been told in the UK…. !

We spent a rather drawn out week in Durban that involved a number of walks to town through what we later found out were the “no-go” areas! The ship eventually docked on Saturday, and on the Tuesday we spent a painful 6 hours being shuttled back and forth between Customs & Excise and the docks by the shipping agents. Finally we had the Land Rover, and a stowaway…..

The next day, with mouse doo-doo everywhere, we emptied the LR in the hunt for the stowaway. We caught occasional glimpses of the little Ghanaian critter as the gear was removed, and then, with the LR empty he vanished. We sat and pondered how we had missed him before noticing a short length of pipe we hadn’t taken out. Sure enough he was inside and in seconds he was shaken from his hiding place and was on the run again. Quick smart he leapt from the LR and legged it under the nearest shed.

So, having had our fill of city life and in need of some adventure we stocked the fridge and headed for the small landlocked country of Lesotho. Known as the “Kingdom in the Sky” Lesotho is extremely mountainous with no part being below an altitude of 1600m!

Entry to Lesotho from the Durban direction is via one of a number of steep mountain passes. In this case the Sani Pass, at the top of which is situated the highest pub in Africa at 2748m.

Leaving SA was a doddle, with none of the bureaucracy we had experienced in West Africa.

2005-12-05T06:40:00.000-08:00

Ghana

Road into Ghana

Mole National Park

Relaxing beer or five after a long day

Warthog outside our room at Mole

Walk in Safari at Mole

Mole looking for Crocs

Elephant at Mole

Heading East in search of a tarred road

Falling coconut tree a near miss for the Land Rover

Chilling with a beer at Kokrobite

Sunrise at Wendy's place

Kokrobite beach

Kid carrying branches

Elmina fishing port

Elmina fort

Adam on the beack at Busua

Local kid at Busua

Busua beach

Locals checking their nets

The boys have a beer

Mohammed the Barman

Ghana

Upon entry to Ghana it was immediately apparent that although English is the official language of the country it is by no means their first language, we resorted to speaking slowly and pointing, we have found this tends to work most of the time.

Our first port of call was the Mole National Park although asking directions proves to be difficult until we learnt that Mole is actually pronounced Moley! Even then most don’t know where it is. On our way the police stopped us a few times, but they only seemed interested in the fact we were
British, and for them to try out their English. The roads to Mole are typical African mud roads and are littered with potholes and corrugations.

Mole National Park is akin to Fawlty Towers and no one seems to know what’s going on. Getting a room for the night was a painful exercise that ended with a few bottles of Castle Milk Stout as the sun set across the park. They have apparently banned camping at the motel because of the danger of animals wandering around at night, but they make you walk the 300 yards or so from the restaurant to your room past aggressive looking warthogs foraging for their tea! We spent the next morning prowling round the park with an armed guard and were fortunate enough to see a couple of Elephants at close range.

Unable to stomach a second night we left Mole in search of tarred roads and Kumasi. Kumasi is a bustling town with the largest outdoor market you could imagine. Typically, thanks to non-existent African road signage, we got lost and found ourselves in the middle of bedlam on the edge of the market, stuck in the entrance to the minibus park!. With a little help and a lot of shouting, waving and grinning from the locals we were turned around and on our way again. We spent the night at a Presbyterian Mission close to the Church, and in the morning (Sunday) we awoke to the sounds of Gospel choirs.

From Ghana we were going to ship the Land Rover to Durban in South Africa. It was a hard decision to make, and only when we had fully weighed up the options did we decide to do it this way. To get us across the countries between Ghana and Namibia it would have set us back over 1,000 US Dollars just in passport visas! Reading other overlanders’ weblogs of the countries we were about to cross, it became apparent that the timewasting hassle of bent coppers and chaotic, petty officialdom was leagues ahead of anything we had experienced so far… It didn’t take long to work it out, either a lot of grief and countless bribes (more expense), just to fight our way through to get somewhere nice, or pay to ship it down south and avoid the problems altogether. (Dont forget the countries we are bypassing are also in rainy season!!)

Leaving Kumasi we headed to Accra to sort out the shipping. A couple of days later we had found an agent at the main port, Tema, got a couple of quotes, and then arranged to get the LR put into a container in a few days. It all seemed too easy! But no, it was that simple. A bit like moving house in the fact that you have to do lots of things at once, and make sure you’ve got all the bits you need with you, and not packed away in the container(!). So, off with some of the stuff on the roofrack, drive it into the container, get the boys to strap it down, wave bye-bye to the car, seal the doors, and then pay the agent the money.

We then spent the next two weeks lazing on tropical beaches with palm trees overhead, and travelling up the Gold Coast to explore some more of the country with my brother Adam who had come out to see how things were going (now staying in hotels). The best place was the Busua Beach Resort, good food, good beach and good waves. The cheapest beer was at “Big Milly’s Backyard” in Kokrobite, a 625ml ice cold bottle served at the bar by the beach was only 62p!

Leaving the Busua beach resort was an interesting affair. We had been given a costly lift there by a car rental firm (hiring cars without a driver just doesn’t happen) and were due to confirm with them whether we wanted a lift back or not. Having found a cheap taxi the night before we were due to leave we asked the hotel to ring through to the car hire firm and cancel. 3 hours early the rental car arrived with no apparent knowledge of the cancellation, the situation was briefly explained and the guy went off in a huff. When we got in the taxi the rental guy got heavy telling us we couldn’t cancel him. We got our driver to drive off and leave the rental guy.

Upon arrival at the airport we were taken aside by airport security for a chat at the police station, our rental guy had been waiting with them all day! Following a rather heated discussion the security chaps realised that the rental guy had misunderstood things and let us check in our gear.

And finally after 3 months on the road we managed to board the same BA flight from Ghana to Heathrow that Adam was booked on. We had a couple of weeks to sort some stuff out at home and to arrange the onward tickets to get us to Durban to meet the car. 35 degC in Ghana, -3 degC in Heathrow, what a shock! Let’s get it sorted and head south, it’s summertime down there . . . . .

2005-12-05T02:03:00.000-08:00

Burkina Faso

Burkina back roads

Tightening up suspension mounts

Apparently these are the best local waterfalls!

Better at the top

Colin thinks of jumping

Local wheelchair

Another wrecked truck

Road building

Burkina Faso

First impressions of Burkina lead you to believe that they aren’t the cash starved country we all think they are. Reality is that they seem to spend a bit more cash on the things that are noticed like borders, police, customs and stuff like that. Everywhere else the poverty one associates with Africa is just as visible. Having said that though, Burkina, the world’s 2nd poorest country, is so far one of our favourites. There is the big African sky overhead, and real bush, scrub and red earth to see. But beyond that there’s not a lot, and that’s part of the charm, driving into some villages it’s seems like nothing has happened in the last couple of hundred years. Until you see a satellite dish, that is!

We headed for Bobo-Delassou a City that seems to be second only to the Capital Ouagadoudou. We spent most of our time in Burkina chilling out at Bobo’s backpackers "Casa Africa". Here we met many American Peace Corp workers picking up the last items on their lists before being sent to far off remote villages for the next couple of years. One of the PC guys told us a story about a local guy that had recently been shot by his friend. It transpires that the guy had taken a bulletproof potion prepared by a local witch doctor. So convinced was his friend in the effectiveness of the potion that he agreed to shoot him in the chest, naturally the guy died and his friend is now the centre of a massive manhunt! Digging deeper the PC worker asked why, if the army there were now bullet proof they couldn’t take on the world. The answer was simple "we might be bullet proof but America has planes and we aren’t yet bomb proof!!! The mind boggles.

On one of our trips form Bobo we headed South in search of water falls close to the border with Cote-D’Ivorie. The waterfalls are known far and wide and are were apparently the some of the best you could see, they even feature in Lonely Planet guides. Big deal, lonely planets in out opinion have got it wrong and this isn’t the first time. After several hours driving, the last hour of which was spent driving around massive sugar cane fields we managed to find these precious falls. It was sadly a case of the journey being more interesting than the destination, but hey, not every set of falls can be like Niagra. At least we’d taken only a day looking for them!!!!

We then headed Southeast towards Ghana and stopped in the bush for a night on the way. With a small fire going and a beer in hand, we looked at a star filled sky and wondered when the next time we might be in this fascinating country. On leaving Burkina the next day, we were also leaving behind the French speaking countries and with English speaking Ghana ahead of us we approached the border with open minds.

2005-12-05T01:22:00.000-08:00

Mali

New road into Mali

Back road from Kayes to Bamako

Road gets worse

Local kids

Nice road

Big Baobad tree

Bushcamp with Hannah & Christiana

Local Shepherds

Petrol anyone?

Local kids in Djenne

Djenne Mosque

Ferry to Djenne

Fellow overlanders Southing

Room for one more?

Last bushcamp in Mali

Storm brewing

Mali

Mali was a welcome and friendly change to our arrival in Senegal and we passed through customs without a hitch or bride (typo - I think James meant bribe, but I’m not sure CW).

The roads in Mali were a pleasant surprise as we found ourselves moving along quickly at times on fresh tarmac. We then followed a back road from Kayes to Bamako, which on the map didn’t look too bad… How wrong were we? After some 20 miles or so and having nearly got stuck in the mud on a number of occasions we turned round and retraced our tracks to Kayes. I know what you’re all thinking, (probably ‘poofters’ CW) but believe me anyone in their right mind would have done the same; it was getting dark, our fuel was running low, the tracks were like swamps and we were averaging 4mph, we still had another 250 miles to go. You choose?

Our alternate route to Bamako was a mix of tarmac and corrugated mud tracks that took us the best part of the next two days. We camped off the road in the bush under huge Baobab trees, yes, this was the Africa we had been looking for, but all good things have to come to an end. Thus, just as we arrived in Bamako, the front brakes failed, and we limped carefully into the City.

Bamako is the capital of Mali and by Capital City terms its not anything to write home about. The city is set out on some kind of a grid that doesn’t seem to have any corners at right angles. Its a sprawling mess of tin shacks and run down buildings dotted amongst which you’ll see the odd corporate office building, bank, hotel together with a couple of huge Mosques.

We stayed at the Catholic Mission in the heart of the City, the mission is run by a bunch of Nuns and offers accommodation to travellers in sparse but clean dorms. We were fortunate in that we were able to park in the courtyard and sleep in our tents, we also took this opportunity to replace the front brake pads. It’s a strange feeling lying in ones tent in your boxers whilst the Nuns troop past to have a singsong in the little chapel across the courtyard.

Whilst at the mission we met a few funny characters including Stellan, a 6 foot something Swedish guy who had cycled there from Casablanca (Morocco). Stellan and a couple of crazy French lads were planning a trip down the Niger to Timbuktu in a recently purchased wooden canoe. Over dinner one evening, and I use the term "Dinner" lightly, Stellan filled us in on his many overland exploits with his bicycle. Apparently he does this kind of thing a lot and all over the world, how does he manage to afford to do this for most of the year? Well in Stellans words "I vork two months of ze year in Sveedun, I sell Christmas trees"! You can’t make up this kind of stuff. If only you could hear the words with the accent! The dinner we had was served into plastic plates (not sure how clean these were) from a series of pots, we sat on wobbly benches at a kind of table in a side street next to a ditch, close to the mission. The three of us ate for 2GBP with no ill effects, sometimes one has to step outside the comfort zone!

After picking up our Visas for Burkina Faso and Ghana we felt it was time to leave Bamako. We headed East towards Timbuktu. On the outskirts of some anonymous town with its own dual carriageway (the first we had seen for a long while) we got pulled for speeding. After a few minutes of discussion we decided to try a trick that we had been taught and each time he said "Vitesse" we replied "Mopti" the town we were heading to, at the same time we pointed ahead. Eventually he replied "Oui Mopti" pointing ahead. This process was repeated several times at the end of which we started up and drove off leaving a rather bemused PC plod wondering what had just happened.

On our way to Mopti we met up with Kristiana and Hannah, the Germans we had seen at the Morocco/Mauritania border. We joined forces and had a great bush camp in the middle of nowhere and were only disturbed once by a local Shepherd and his helper (and their 60 cows passing through). After leaving the Germans we headed to Djenne to take a look at their famous Mosque, apparently it is the world’s largest mud building. Following a short ferry ride we took a very informative tour where we learnt all about the history of the place and stuff like that, we then left and pointed the Land Rover South for Burkina Faso. Our last days in Mali were pretty relaxed and uneventful and apart from running over an eagle nothing much happened, we soon found ourselves passing through the border into Burkina without a hitch.

2005-12-03T10:31:00.000-08:00

The Gambia

The beach

Fisher dog

Relaxing by the pool at R&L's place

Hot day behind the wheel

Cattle jam....

Road to the border

The Gambia (and back to Senegal)

The Gambian border post was very friendly, and the officials were very thorough with their inspection of the Land Rover. The chief customs officer was very interested in our Laptop, and particularly interested in seeing the photographs we had taken in The Gambia! He looked rather confused as his colleagues laughed at him, and we reminded him that we had only just arrived….

It was getting late when we headed into the country, so we headed South to catch the evening ferry across the River Gambia. Sunset was fast approaching and whilst we were keen to get over the river and on with our journey, the ferry crew had other ideas. Here, like most of West Africa, is mainly Muslim, and the fast approaching sunset brought with it the end of that day’s Ramadan fasting. We had no choice but to wait patiently as the crew made and ate their supper and then set about work!

The ferry eventually set sail and at 20.00hrs we disembarked on the South side of the river. It was pitch black and we were still some 60 miles or so from Banjul, the capital. We pressed on into the night on the lookout for somewhere to bush camp. However, the South road was awful with more potholes than tarmac. Sometime during the night it became clear that we weren’t going to find anywhere to camp and shortly before midnight we picked up a policeman called Landing headed for Banjul. We eventually arrived in Banjul at 02.30AM, on the road (on and off) since 08.30 the morning before and were in need of some sleep. We followed Roy’s instructions and found a quiet place near the beach where we had a quick beer and some cake before putting our heads down for what was left of the night. We spent the next few days at Roy and Lol’s place relaxing by the pool, tinkering with the Land Rover and enjoying Roys excellent quisine washed down by the odd beer or two.

Getting out of The Gambia was just as thorough a process as getting in, bags and boxes were searched before we were given the go ahead to leave. Getting into Senegal was a different affair altogether. We had decided to head for the border post closest to Banjul and avoid the long drive back to the border we had entered at. We were greeted by the Senegalese Customs official with a sly grin as he told us we were welcome to enter Senegal but that we had to leave the car behind! Why? The border is closed to vehicles and had been since August!!! But we only came in a few days ago we said. He wasn’t bothered if we came in that day or any day we weren’t getting out with the car. He suggested that things might change in a day or two after the two countries’ presidents had had a meeting, but then again they might not. We enquired as to whether we could pay to get the car into Senegal, but he simply ignored us and walked off. Damn, they were serious about it. Closed, and no argueing.

Reluctantly we drove the 200m back to The Gambian customs building. The chief of police was furious with the Senegalese and after a series of expletives he made a call to the next border post in Gambia and arranged for us to leave there. This time we took the North road and were glad to find that it was in better condition than the South one and only 4 hours later we were at the border we had originally arrived at. The Senegalese customs officials here were happy to sign us back in and didn’t seem aware that the border with Gambia was supposed to be closed. We drove on into the dark Senegal night in order that we had a chance of hitting the Mali border before lunch the next day. In the early hours of the morning we found a quiet spot off the road and set up camp. We were up at daybreak and were soon heading East to the border. The morning passed without incident and even the police were polite at their checkpoints. Some even seemed genuinely interested about our travels; it’s amazing how different a country can be from one side to the other.

2005-11-10T02:56:00.000-08:00

Senegal

View from the Zebra bar

LR at the Zebra bar

Dakar rain

Dakar dual carriageway

Dakar centre

Senegal

We managed to leave Mauritania by paying 10E to customs “for the car”, and then James had to sit in a hot stuffy room and argue with the police (one of which kept waving a truncheon asking if he knew what it was for!) about how much we paid to get our passports stamped and returned.

After driving across the dam and reaching customs, we were accosted by a boy with a freshly caught fish balanced on his head, who shouted at us “Donnez moi un Cadeaux” about 20 times. We did our best to ignore him and then, set about getting ourselves stamped in by Senegal customs. To cut a long and tedious 1hr discussion short, it took the policeman all our efforts to explain to him that yes, we were from Europe, but we had no Euros to give him as a present. We had given our last to the Mauritania police to get our passports back! Finally the other French drivers explained that the 20 dollars US we were offering him was worth more than the 10 Euros he was asking for, and the barrier was reluctantly raised for us.

One mile later we were pulled over at a roadblock and fined 20usd for having no insurance, all the Senegalese insurance agents being shut on a Sunday! One mile further on there was a second roadblock and us and all the French (we had been following since Mauritania) were duly pulled over again and given the ritual financial screwing over for all our “infractions”. “You make infraction, you must pay big fine” over and over again. Fortunately this one cost us an old pair of Addidas shorts, but the gendarme was made up as it had a designer logo on it. Whatever.

Finally we fought our way to St.Louis and got some cash, and some insurance at a bit of a premium as the shop had to be opened specially for us. Anyway, after a couple of beers and a bartering session with the “guide” about his fee for helping sort us out, we set out in the dark for what turned out to be a really funky campsite. The Swiss run Zebrabar, complete with a bar painted in zebra stripes, was a safe haven selling cheap beer, situated in the middle of a swamp (by a river) where you might find Disney’s “The Rescuers” working!

The next day turned out to be the same, our first roadblock resulted in the Gendarmes trying to get the car immobilised for having the rear windows tinted (we had it done for the sun, and for security), and only to be released when we had bought some new clear windows!!! This developed into a 45 minute argument and documents check, and we finally left saying we were going to the chief commissioner’s office to confirm their laws, and we drove off. But at least it cost us no money that time.

The drive on to Dakar was uneventful, until we hit the city limits and found a dual carriageway through a 15 mile shanty town, with traffic using either side, either way, however they liked! Then it was simply a three-day wait in Dakar to get our Mali visa. Three days of boredom, stuck in a noisy, messy hot city, oh, and frequent power cuts so the room fans all stopped and everyone cooked. Nice.

Once we got the visas, we were out of Dakar as quick as we could, but managed to find both rush-hour and a tropical thunderstorm against us. Driving down one road the traffic suddenly thinned out and we ploughed on, splashing through 6” of floodwater. This quickly became 12” then 2 feet, and as we passed a stranded transit van up to it’s windows in water, the bonnet of the Land Rover went under……. For James, that was the slowest few seconds of his life, until the bonnet came up out of the bow-wave and we then drove off across Dakar. “$%$^# ^& &***#*!” we both said. “Definitely time to get the raised air intake connected!”

Then, driving out of town in the drizzle we came across a police checkpoint and, following advice we had received from a French man running our hotel, we ignored it only to be pulled by some more police that were in the car ahead of us. James handed over his documents then followed them to their car for a chat, when they asked for 100 Euros he thought they might be bogus cops so grabbed the documents off them, ran back to the car and locked the doors. After a few minutes of mindless ranting in French they left us, we waited for a few minutes then gingerly carried on our journey. A mile or so down the road we found the police were not bogus after all and that they had called in reinforcement’s and set up a roadblock us. The resulting hour of policemen shouting at us, threats of jail for James for breaking the law and failing to stop, threats of having the car taken away and impounded, them disappearing off with our documents for ages, motions of putting handcuffs on us and then shouting “infraction, jail!!” did little to help our spirits. Then, suddenly they got bored and simply asked for money. The resulting fine, while large by the average wage out there, was low enough that we paid up.

So, another day on the road, another delay, another going-over, and another fine.

Right, we said, let’s get to the Gambia.

And so we did.

And it only cost 2 quid and two oranges to get us and the car stamped out of the country.

2005-10-27T02:45:00.000-07:00

Mauritania

Somewhere in the middle of Mauritania

Mauritanian sunset

Stuck on the beach

National park roads

Close call in the National Park

Mauritania

Leaving Morocco was easy compared to entering, we followed a French couple through the various checks and booths soon we were on our way, no brides or gifts needed!

The land between border posts is referred to as “no mans land” and in the case of the Morocco-Western Sahara/Mauritania border nothing could be more accurate as this is true no-mans land. Without going into depths regarding the politics of these two countries it is enough to say that the land between these two borders has previously been heavily mined and little is admitted as to where these mines remain! Many accounts are told in guide books of travellers straying from the pistes (tracks) and of blown up vehicles. Who knows what truths lie behind these tales for when you see locals wandering and driving where they like one does begin to wonder. Nevertheless never stray from the piste.

About three hundred metres after leaving the last Moroccan checkpoint we came across a couple of Germans in a M.A.N truck attempting to extricate a Dutch couple who had managed to sink their camper van (yes, a big white camper van) in the soft sand. We watched a while and offered our ropes as they seemed to only have a few meters between them. Once out we formed a convoy and headed gingerly to the Mauritanian check posts.

This is the kind of border we were expecting, three small sparsly furnished huts about 100 meters from one another. Each hut had a table and chair and a selection of old manky mattresses and blankets for the guards to sleep on. Welcome to Mauritania. The guards were pleasant enough and attended to our documents swiftly, I think we all took comfort in being in a convoy of three vehicles. The first guard hut checks your passport, the second stamps your passport and you pay 10 Euro for the car! The third is the Customs and completes the Carnet and you pay 10 Euro for the car! The chief customs officer then has a quick look at the vehicles whilst asking for “Cadeaux for the Chief Customs officer” The Dutch couple give him some water and a box of tissues and he lets us all go…. Weird.

We spent the night with the Germans and Dutch at a pleasant enough campsite in Nouadibou where we were able to buy insurance and change some money in an old Merc. Money is changed in the back seat and insurance is issued up front. Once all of us had completed our transactions the Merc left. After leaving Nouadibou we spent a few days in the Parc Nationale de Banc d’Aguin (National Park). This was in effect a 150 mile off road session through sand dunes, desert areas and across flat expanses of stones and sand; to Land Rover enthusiasts it was a dream come true! Colin nearly got us stuck in a drying up lake frequented during the wet season by thousands of Pink Flaningoes, we saw about 5. The piste out of the park (some 30 miles) was a little trickier than the interior pistes, it is bounded to the left by Dunes and on the right by the sea leaving barely 20-30 foot of beach at high tide. The piste only being traversable at low tide might explain why I managed to get the 110 stuck in the sand!!!!!

Leaving the park we headed to Nouakchott, the countries capital. Apart from a fancy dual carriageway leading in to the city, (the verges of which constitute the city’s rubbish landfill site), this place is nothing to write home about. We stayed a night and decided to head for Senegal in the hope of finding somewhere a little more pleasant and refined…..

There are two border crossings between Mauritania and Senegal of which we have read and heard many stories. The main route is at a place called Rosso, this place is well known for hustlers, touts, guides, shysters, pickpockets and rip-off merchants. The border here comes in two parts Rosso Mauritania and Rosso Senegal, the two being separated by the Senegal river which effectively becomes no mans land.

Upon arrival at Rosso we were greeted by all manner of touts and “guides” all offering to help us, a simple “non merci” doesn’t work here, the buggers follow you through the town and even try and help you through by clearing traffic, and then trying to get in the car with you! We’d had enough and doubled back to find the piste to the alternative crossing known as the Barrage de Dima. Even as we left, the guides ran alongside us and tried to get in our car, it was only when we stumbled upon a police checkpoint that were able to shake them off. The Barrage is some 72 miles along from Rosso along a fairly well used mud piste (read ‘muddy track’). An hour or two later and with the help of some French guys who were towing a caravan to Senegal(!) and we had found the border. Wonder what fun we will have here…….

2005-10-27T02:30:00.000-07:00

Morocco/Western Sahara

Camel trophy LR near Chefchaouen

High in the Atlas Mountains

James in the Atlas Mountains

Bush camping in the Western Sahara

Blasting across the Sahara near the Algerian border

Morocco/Western Sahara

Arriving in Cueta we could see the benefits of this crossing. Being a part of Spain you do not get the problems immediately associated with border crossings as you land (as happens at Tangiers). Proceeding to the border we decided to withdraw a few last Euros and take the opportunity to fill up with diesel. Oops what a mistake, prior to leaving Tarifa we had attempted to fix our faulty fuel guage and in doing so we hadn’t sealed the tank properly, as the tank filled it began to leak slowly at first but then the drips turned into more of a slow trickle. We hastily left the filling station and headed to the beach where we drained part of the main tank into the empty jerry cans. This done we had a spot of lunch and headed for our first African border experience…..

I doubt anything can prepare one for the fuss and commotion of the first border experience, as you approach, the touts and hangers-on begin to assemble and offer their assistance, friendship and advice! You need to fill this in; you cannot proceed without this; I am a guide; I will help you; I know you don’t you remember me! (and all of this in a combination of Arabic, French, Spanish and broken English) What a load of Bollocks.

Thankfully Ian and David had told us “keep driving until they stop you, the men with the guns, then you are at the border” Here we found a friendly guide with his own special “Guide de Tourisme” badge.

In the course of the next 20 minutes we were ushered from booth to booth, go here, go there, now fill this in, “I am your friend, I help you and you help me” So he wants money now, Typical. Now we get insurance, fill in more forms and pay the man some money. Then, all of a sudden we’re told that’s it you can go now!!! Whoopeee… We gave the guide the 10 Dirams (70p) change we got from the insurance and he seems pleased and thanks us. Now we just have to drive past the Customs check point where we’ve seen a couple of cars unloading all their luggage, fingers crossed and they wave us through, we’re in and we’re off, and not a sign of a rubber glove…..

What a change a border makes, the cars are all bangers (all the taxis are big old blue mercs) and there’s dirt and dust everywhere, what have we done! We head South through village after village and during the afternoon we come across Chefchouen, we’d read in the guidebook that this place was popular with European travellers. We camped above the village amongst hippy travellers making the most of the cheap local hash (think Dylan from the Magic Roundabout). As night approached we were joined by a couple from Wimbledon in a Camel Trophy land rover complete with defribilator, “just in case” as the owner told me.

For the next few days we headed south and explored remote pistes (tracks) of the Atlas mountains that Ian and David had recommended. These parts are pretty remote and we got up to 3000m on one pass, this was just what we needed after the weeks we’d spent in Europe. Villages here see little traffic but unfortunately the local kids can distinguish the traveller (white) from the local (arab) and around every corner we would here the cries of “Cadeaux” or “Stylo”. After a while this becomes pretty annoying and you have to turn up the stereo. How many pens do they think we have?

Upon leaving the Atlas we headed further South as Ian had said “you’ve got to dip your toe in the Sahara”. The vastness of the Sahara is quite overwhelming, from one of the last town major towns we headed South to Merzouga a town famed for having the tallest Dune in the North. Merzouga lies some 30 miles or so to the south-east of Erfoud across what can only be described as moonscape. We spent the night at Merzouga Guest House a place run by Ali an old friend of Ian’s. Following a very pleasant and reasonably priced evening with meal Ali started to look for extras and tried to sell us carpets and scarves, he then asked for a torch and cheese and was offended when we suggested a swap! We left Merzouga with mixed feelings about how the locals see tourists and headed back to Erfoud for some running repairs on the 110. Here we had the engine fan fixed by what can only be described as a bunch of true bush mechanics, for which we happily paid them with our broken transfer gear box that we had been carrying since Spain. We then drove for the rest of the day and into the night until we reached Agadir. Incidentally what everyone says about driving at night is very true, we came across donkey carts, people, bikes, mopeds, cars, lorries etc. some with lights and some without. I do not recommend night driving and sincerely hope we don’t have to resort to it again!

We’d heard lots about Agadir and its lovely sandy crescent beach but nothing of the rain! Yes rain! It rained the best part of the two days we were there and when it wasn’t rainy it was overcast and the air damp, the beach wasn’t anything to write home about either. During our final night at the campsite we met Roy (not the one in Spain although this one has been there) and his posse of friends/mates/OAP’s all of which were boozing for England/Isle Of Man/The Gambia. Roy’s posse were headed south to The Gambia with the hope of importing his Land Rover Discovery and Peders aged Peugeot 505, we swapped route plans and hoped our paths would cross again. The following day we headed to the hypermarket to stock up with tins and fresh fruit and veg before continuing south to the Western Sahara. Had we known the shops don’t open until 09.00 Colin could have had an extra two hours lay-in!!! Sorry Col. Provisions purchased and tanks filled (still leaking) we hit the road for the Western Sahara (for those of you interested in finding out more about the Western Sahara and how Morocco pinched it search google for Polisario and war…). We had a long days drive that was briefly interrupted by an unexpected stop in a village on the road to Tan Tan because the King of Morocco was on the beach. We rested and whiled the evening and most of our wine with Roy and the posse at a friendly campsite Le-Bedouin, deep in a country that the UN are still working in, run by a quirky little French man, hidden in a wadi in the middle of nowhere.

The next morning we parted company with the posse and spent the next two days driving through the Western Sahara, why anyone would want to live her is beyond us. Every hundred miles or so settlers are encouraged at “new” towns with discounted fuel, and from what we could see little else, the discounted fuel does however put a smile on the face of the traveller. It’s 30p a litre! We bush camped close to the border and by 11.00 we were at the border and ready to leave this crazy country, bring on Mauritania…….

2005-10-27T02:07:00.000-07:00

Europe

Leaving Dover

Colin chilling in Brugges

Arc de Triomphe

Eiffel Tower

Val D'isere

High in the Alps

Montreux castle

Dave Hommer Hurlock passed out after gallons of beer!

Dave Hommer Hurlock again!

Europe

At 11.30am on the 29th August we eventually departed the safe confines of my folks garage where we’d spent what felt like a year preparing Orinoco for the long road trip ahead.

Destination : Cape Town, South Africa
Route : The West Coast of Africa
Duration 6-12 Months
Transport : 20 Year old Land Rover 110 “Orinoco”

What lay ahead of us was anyone’s guess, Africa can change on a daily basis making it impossible for us to plan ahead, the unknown is what makes the trip an adventure.

We had two hours to make Dover before the Seacat left, what could possibly go wrong….. As we descended the slip road onto the M25 the 110 began to judder violently, just what we didn’t need. We wracked our brains to try and work out what we had changed since returning from our trial trip to Wales. The tyres! we had swapped over two of the new wheels for two old ones in order that we had a full new set for African soil, the old wheels weren’t balanced, bugger. We decided to leave them on and proceeded gingerly at 45mph to Dover. The Seacat was on time and less than 30 minutes after arriving at Dover the white cliffs of Dover melted into the horizon. At last we had left home soil and the trip had actually begun.

We spent two days camping in Bruges (Belgium) to acclimatise to foreign parts (34 decgrees C) before proceeding in a West south-westerly direction to Rouen to meet up with Francis & Francine. We lodged with them for four days which we passed drinking beer, fixing the tractor, clearing the garden and unsuccessfully trying to sort out the aforementioned wheel wobble. On leaving Rouen we headed south-east to Geneva pausing in Paris for photos of the Arc-de-Triomphe and Eiffel Tower. We spent the next few days criss-crossing the high passes of the Alps taking in Switzerland, France, Italy and France again before heading south to the Med and then onto Spain.

The Costa Brava……. Who on earth in their right mind would come here for a holiday? (Apologies to those of you that do but you must be mental) We spent almost an hour driving the “coast” road of the Brava bounded by a railway and the sea to our left and hotels to our right. Then it happened, just as we were entering Barcelona we lost all drive, the engine ran but we were going nowhere. We rolled away from some traffic lights down a small slope and onto a sort of parking area and stopped. We deliberated and sweated for a while (it was pretty hot). By powers of trial and error we deduced that we had a problem with the transfer gearbox (used to change between high and low ratio whilst off roading). Some cursing and violence followed and we managed to select low range, this giving us a top speed of 25-30 miles an hour was fine for the city so we proceeded. Halfway through the city at some lights we lost the gears again, this time it didn’t take long before we were managed to reselect low ratio. A few wrong turns later and we found ourselves in the “wrong” part of town, with everything crossed we carried on until we found signs we could understand and got ourselves out of there.

We spent the night in a campsite (recommended by the Caravan Club) on the edge of the city, under the flightpath for the airport, by a road littered with brothels and hookers! Here we met some Irish chaps who offered to sell us a Belgium registered land rover that they had received in part payment in the Algarve for some work they had done for a lady. The landrover was parked up the road on some waste ground……. As darkness fell we hastily took the bottom of the gearbox off, manually selected high range gears put it all back together before leaving at the crack of dawn. Stopping briefly in Valencia to pick up a spare part for the gearbox we drove all day until nearing Denia, where we were meeting Colin’s former colleague Terry and his wife Pauline, the gearbox quit again. We stripped it down again and eventually got to Terry’s place at 21.30 (13 1/5 hours in the 110 and don’t forget we’ve still got the old tyres on so it’s a maximum 45mph!)

We lounged at Terry and Paulines for a couple of days where we took advantage of their pool and endless supply of cold beer! thanks guys, before heading South to Benidorm to try and get the gearbox fixed, being unsucessful we had a replacement couriered from Luton, this being cheaper than a secondhand unit in Spain (thanks to Mel & Sandra for taking delivery of the pallette, especially as they thought it would be an envelope!). We spent the next two weeks in Benidorm and at Dave Hommer Hurlocks flat in neighbouring Calpe where thanks to the help of wheeler-dealer Roy we got the new box fitted (at a Toyota garage of all places). Many would relish at two weeks in Benidorn, I’d rather stick my head in a freezer for a month…..

Leaving Hommer Hurlock at the airport we again headed South. We spent our last few days in Europe at a campsite in Tarifa famed for its windsurfing. Here we met Ian and David who had just returned from the Sahara in a new Range Rover, we swapped stories and Ian having given us the last of their supplies and a map before ushered us on our way. Ian’s belief was that if put off our crossing too long we wouln’t actually leave. Prior to leaving and in the search of one last pint of proper beer we popped into Gibraltar, a pint of Newcastle Brown Ale later (on tap) a few quick postcards and a trip to M&S for some smalls and we were set. The day after, having stocked up our supplies at the hypermarket in Algeciras we boarded a seacat bound for Spanish Cueta on the northern tip of Morocco….