Where did Shane go??

I really didn’t want to write this post, but after 2 days in a backpackers with the combination rest and social interaction, I’m slowly regaining my sanity and sense of humour. Therefore I can be a little more reflective about recent events instead of just being the whining bitch I’ve felt like and hated of late. I think it’s only fair to share this side of a solo journey too after so many positive posts.

Where did it start?

About a month ago in Caia in Mozambique I had what I now recognise as my first case of homesickness in many years. The reason I didn’t recognise it as such was due to its horrible manifestation in the form of seriously considering looking for work again and longing for a little more routine and rest. Seriously ? WORK? Stuff that….But it’s something I really have to think about later this year, to keep my hard earned qualifications valid I need to actively work for 6 months out of every two years, the 18 month point being next spring. My heart wants to complete this journey (wherever it takes me) in one go. My head see’s many advantages in taking a 6-8 month break next year to work in Europe or maybe even Africa.

Anyway, that phase passed in a few days and I cracked on into Malawi and to Blantyre then Lilongwe in a couple of weeks without serious problems, a little tired and drained from the communication difficulties and roads of Mozambique.

A little disappointment

Just about everyone I’ve met or heard from claims Malawi is wonderful, and beautiful, many also claiming its very hilly (never trust Dutch people if they talk about hills….). I’ve found the cycling in Malawi quite tame, and despite being a fairly hilly country the roads are well graded and I rarely had problems cycling 100km even if it included 500-1000m climbing.

The constant Mzungu yelling, attention and lack of privacy when taking a break are slowing getting tedious, and often I push too hard, only breaking 2-3 times a day for a coke and a snack in a village. Not smart but for some reason recently I just haven’t had the patience to sit down next to the road and relax for an hour because I’m quickly surrounded by Mzungu watchers, usually not the end of the world, but I’m not a fan of being the centre of attractions, an afternoon snooze in my hammock is out of the question.

Since Lilongwe I’ve been uncharacteristically inpatient, simple things that usually don’t bother me have rapidly created a domino effect in my state of mind. Here are some silly example of things that have really pissed me off recently :

• A big sign outside the Mufasa backpackers saying “no illegal substances allowed”, only to kept awake by the owner/manager smoking dope with friends near my tent in the evening.
• Food taking 2 hours to come on several occasions (welcome to Malawi).
• Managed to break my kickstand mount so now I have to park my bike like other peasant cycle tourers.
• Two days later broke one of the eyelets (mount) for my rear baggage rack, (not a problem I had it moved to the mud guard eyelets within 15 minutes.
• Overpriced beer (double price) at a campsite bar just because its next door to an expensive hotel .
• To escape the overprices hotel I went to a local place 500m away only to find the prices twice that of a normal local place, when I challenged the owner his answer was “at least we are cheaper than the hotel”.
• The campsite was overrun each morning with baboons, the staff stood idly by at they ransacked the place. I ran the 50m back to my tent to rescue what was left of my food ( half was gone, including some treasured whole wheat pasta I’ve been using since Zimbabwe) . Naturally as I chased the baboons away, 50m back another group had got to work on my breakfast and ran off with my pan (which I was luckily able to retrieve from a tree).
• And several other similar incidents.
• At each occasion my irritations where compounded by that fact that I hated myself that I was irritated.

From the Senga bay campsite I cycled the 60km to Chipoka to wait for the Lake Malawi ferry. I stayed at the overrun hotel at the beach, being given a spot next to the building site. The hotel was over run by Pathfinders on camp. The camp seemed more like a Adventist brainwash camp than a pathfinder camp. I checked out one of the rooms in the hope of escaping the crappy camping area only to be presented with the worse room (and seriously overpriced) I’ve seen so far in Malawi. The whole place only had 3 working male toilets and there was no water pressure…..very pleasant.

The hotel staff had told me to just head over to the harbour in the afternoon when the ferry arrived. I got there and hour before the planned arrival only to be told it hasn’t been running for weeks, so much for my easy weekend.

All in all not serious incidents and things that shouldn’t bother me but they did. I should of seen the warning signs but just thought I was tired and figured within a couple of days I’d be in Nkhata bay and could rest there.
Warning signs

The first sign was the home sickness(something I never suffer from), the second maybe my uninteresting few days in Blantyre, the third the short temper (very unlike me), fourth the lack of chill time during the days ride, fifth  I really struggled to write my last blog post, something I usually enjoy doing. Then the alarm bells really should have started ringing when I decided to do interval training between Senga and Chipoka (ach its “only “ 60km) because I was just so bored of Malawi, easy roads, no adventure and a shortage of good conversation. From Chipoka I just did a short day and took a hotel, once again upset by Mzungu tax,

“how much is the room?”

“4500 kwacha”

“I’ll pass I don’t pay more than 2500 for a room”

” thats fine too….”

That evening I formulated my stupidest plan to date, my map showed it to only be 180km to Nkhata. I decided just to have a little challenge in amongst the tedium of Malawi, I’d have a crack at doing it in one day.

Game over insert new coin

To keep a long story short, it was the hottest day in months, I had a nice headwind and crashed and burned at 80km, just before lunchtime. I died at a town with a nice hotel, and luckily I by now know the early signs of heat stroke thanks to a few experiences during this trip. I did the unusually smart thing of taking a room and sleeping the afternoon, only to wake up to 3 days of 30 seconds notice to get to the toilet.

In these three days I spent a lot of time working myself up at recent events and my irritations, getting irritated with myself that I got irritated. I did a very good job at spiraling into self loathing and questioning myself as to why everyone loves Malawi and I was hating it. My only consolation being that in a few days I could rest at Nkhata bay then take the other ferry across to Mbamba bay in Tanzania and escape Malawi. Hoping the people of Tanzania are less used to tourists, there’s more wilderness and wild camping that I so long for once again.

Three days of this spiral was enough, and though not feeling grand from whatever I had and not over the shits it was time to rescue myself from myself. I took a couple of Imodium and headed out of the hotel gate with the intention of trying to cycle the remaining 130km (yup it was further than 180) in one or two days. As I pushed Mr Hyde onto the road I found the idea of cycling such a distance quite daunting and really had not wish to do it. As I looked over my shoulder I saw a truck coming, automatically my hand went up to flag it down for a lift.

As I loaded my gear onto the truck the sense of relief was overwhelming, as if my first step towards recovery was already set. Four hours later I was booking into a busy backpackers in Nkhata bay.

Once in Nkhata the last blow was struck in that the ferry to Tanzania is also broken, presenting me with a big detour and more Malawi just when I wanted to escape.

The penny drops

While on the back of the truck between the chickens ,fish and people I found that I was jealous that the people where chattering among themselves and that I didn’t understand and couldn’t join in. Though I’d already suspected I’ve had a little social isolation recently I had no idea how bad. Sure I’ve talked to plenty of locals, the occasional tourist in Blantyre, a couple British ladies at the beach in Mozambique and some backpackers/locals in Mutare etc etc.

But when I’ve thought about it in the last two days, since leaving Bulawayo 2 months ago I’ve had less than a dozen conversations with someone that speaks real English at a level that can be called a serious conversation and only two of them could be called stimulating.

Even for a loner such as myself, this is quite shocking, and may just explain why I’ve started losing my marbles and sense of humour of late and why I’ve lost Shane somewhere……

What now?

Thanks to being pretty good at knowing myself I was smart enough to escape that hotel room a couple of days ago, knowing that I’d get the desperately needed social contact here. It seems to be working, after two good nights of sleep I’m still damn tired but feeling more alive. There’s a good selection of friendly people here so I’m getting those so desperately needed conversations. And as an added bonus and by total coincidence 4 different groups of cyclists turned up yesterday so I had dinner with 8 other like minded nutters. The opportunity to talk shop, and share experiences with like minded people this week is just magic.

What next?

First thing’s first, a week of rest here, maybe two until I find all my marbles again and get sick of tourists again. After that its either plan c or d, I can either head north to Tanzania then make a plan to find small roads to Dar el salaam, or if I’m feeling crazy take a local overloaded freight boat across the lake. I haven’t decided how brave I am yet, first I need to sort myself out. On calm days the freight boat seems like an option, on mornings like this it seems like suicide.

One small wonder in all this is that unlike many other cyclists in their darkest hours, at no point have I stopped enjoying the cycling, in fact quite the opposite, I’ve tried to use the cycling as a means of entertainment and finding challenges in cycling. Mr Hyde is still my trusty steed, wingman and friend. Throughout all this I also haven’t felt lonely so that is not an issue once rested I’ll be able to hit the road again looking for adventure and challenges and may just learn Swalhili.

Should I get really bored next week I may start a new gear talk post, that last one was a long time ago.