Cycling for months pretty much alone in the desert certainly gave me enough time to contemplate my life, mistakes I’ve made and allowed me to bury some demons. At 8am on my 6th day from Keetmanshoop in to the Namibian desert the penny dropped, I broke down in tears and after bawling my eyes out for 10 minutes while riding towards the Zarishoogte it was over, three days later I wrote the following and hope now by having the balls to share this to put that part of my youth behind me.

I’d planned to try and get this piece published but have decided not to set myself up for a series of dissapointments or jump through hoops and instead will let social media do its funky thing, so if you enjoy it please, share, tweet,+1 and all that jazz.

I’d also like to thank the wise men for helping me prepare for the challenge and my readers and the midget for their support during those crazy tough weeks, and of course Mr Hyde for not letting me down when I needed his support most.

“It is never too late to become what you were always meant to be.”

I wake up to the cool wind in my face from the airco and feeling the soft pillow under my head and clean white sheets. Airco? Soft pillow? Clean white sheets? Am I dreaming? I try to sit up and an agonizing pain shoots through my chest and I remember…….

…….10 days earlier:

Every since arriving in South Africa I’d been looking for the chance to test myself, a way to push myself to my limits physically and mentally, to live the ultimate adventure. To cycle through the South African Kalahari in the middle of summer seemed to be to be a suitable challenge.

Between Kimberley and Kuruman I spent a couple of days getting used to a “tropical routine”. Early morning starts and cycling until 9am then hiding from the sun until about 6pm in my hammock under a tree somewhere followed by a couple of hours cycling in the evening. In this time I also gradually increased the amount of water I carried with me up to a maximum of 19 litres.

Leaving Kuruman I was feeling strong and my bike (Mr Hyde), took the payload of 25kg baggage, 10kg food and 19L of water without complaint. About an hour from Kuruman I was enjoying the fresh cooling air as I cruised downhill at about 65km/h. At this point the thought entered my mind that it wasn’t smart to cycle so fast on this road, if a car was to come I’d have to go onto the gravel hard shoulder and at such a speed that was going to hurt.

With this thought I quickly glanced in  my mirror and to my horror saw 3 cars coming over the horizon a couple of hundred meters behind me. I looked ahead to see if maybe I could escape to the other lane only to see a truck coming the other way, ooh this is going to hurt!!

A wobble, skid, the grinding of body and bike through gravel and a dust cloud later I found myself lying on top and wrapped around Mr Hyde. “Ooh, this is inconvenient…..Don’t fucking move, think, relax, think, stay calm, wait and see what hurts and what is broken” and so I lay still as the dust settled. Then I went through the process of moving things and was happy only to feel the pain and throbbing of my forearm, “don’t think it’s broken just nasty gravel rash”.

I did my best to clean up my arm with Babywipes, cut off a rather thick flap of skin with my blunt nail scissors then spent 20 minutes getting Mr Hyde road worthy.

For a solo cyclist this is a possible moment of disaster where fear, pain and doubt can take over. I considered heading back to Kuruman to find a clinic to get myself checked out but figured they’d just clean me up and tell me to rest for a while. I was really worried that this might give me an excuse to quit my desert adventure before it really started, that my fears would reinforce my doubts and leave me stuck in Kuruman. “No way young man, man the fuck up and move on”. And so a little beaten up, a very sore arm and a couple of bruised/cracked ribs I battled on for a couple of hours that day and pushed on for 2 more days.

 In recent years I’ve become very tenacious, determined and will almost never quit. This has come partly thanks to cycle touring and by overcoming some big challenges in my adult life. In the weeks after my Kalahari adventure the penny also dropped that it is also an overreaction and over compensation for my teenage years when I was a quitter, had no self confidence, was bullied, could not finish anything I started and was of course that guy that always got chosen last for the football team because of my lack of physical ability and fitness. During this time I often thought and dreamed of big adventures as a little escapism and loved the stories of big adventurers like Scott, Shackleton, Everest climbers and the big African explorers.

I arrived 2 days later in Van Zylsrus. Tired from sleepless painful nights, sore from the last 20km of bumpy dirt roads and generally a little rough. I decided to bite the bullet and just get an expensive room (€40) so that I could clean myself up properly and see what the gravel damage really was and take a rest day. That afternoon I slept for 6 hours and another 10 that night.

Airco? Soft pillow? Clean white sheets? Am I dreaming? I try to sit up and an agonizing pain shoots my chest  then I remember…….

Though the physical pain in my chest and arm are very unpleasant, I also feel another kind of pressure on my chest. I’m feeling alone and trapped, no way forward because I really don’t see myself cycling the next 600 kilometers on dirt roads in this state. No way back because my visa would run out in just over a week and unable to stay put and rest because I can’t afford a luxury place like this, but there’s no cheaper option nearby. So I lay for another hour in bed feeling pretty sorry for myself then moved to the kitchen to see if I could make some breakfast.

Though breakfast was not included the owners invited me to join them and their visiting friends. This later led to an invite to join them on a game drive and later I spent the whole evening and next day with this family and friends and felt as if I’d known these people for years.

As I went to bed I cried, and now again as I write this. The warmth, openness and love which this group of friends gave me took me in 12 hours from emotional rock bottom and recharged me to where I needed to be. Giving me the strength to carry on. So the next day I once again headed out into the wilderness bruised and sore but emotionally stronger.

The next couple of days where full of pain and misery and felt more like fighting for survival than a fun adventure. The gravel road was very rough with a lot of deep sandbanks. My left arm could only be used at about 80% and my ribs hurt like hell at bumps, so I found myself puffing and panting like an F16 pilot in a G simulator tensing my chest muscles for every bump and grabbing breaths in between. If I hit a sandbank I was unable to power through so instead often just dropped the bike to save the pain in my ribs or arm. Though picking a 60kg+ bike up out the sand several times a day is a poor second choice and sometimes I almost passed out from the pain.

As a little distraction during my lazy afternoons hiding from the sun in my hammock I would read Ernest Shackleton’s book “South” for a little irony in my shade at 40-45 degrees C . Considering myself lucky to have plenty of food and water with me and only be trapped by beaurocrats and pain rather than ice and sea. Those men really where tough, such different times we live in.

After these few days of misery I once again came across a small village with a hotel. I was truly broken, miserable and when I started thinking “ I wish I was back home now, in my simple life with my (ex)girlfriend to care for me” I knew it was time for something drastic, so I blew my budget by booking a hotel and send myself to bed for 3 days.

Still a little sore but rested and with only 2 days left on my South African visa it was time to get moving, pain or no pain. Once in Namibia the roads rapidly improved and I starting finally believing I’d make it to Keetmanshoop where I could complete my Kalahari challenge and rest before heading into the Namib desert.

Fate decided at this point that I was getting a little too happy with myself and threw in a curve ball in the form of food/water poisoning during my last night. Not the most pleasant of things at the best of times but after an unusually long day in the Kalahari I was very dehydrated so it hit twice as hard. The extra complication of trying to get out of a sleeping bag and tent and then dig a toilet in the middle of the desert (not forgetting to avoid the puddle of sick just outside the tent) made an already unpleasant situation even more tedious.

By the morning I was broken had no energy left and the only obvious and safe solution was to pack up and hope to get a lift the last 70km to town (on previous days I’d been passed by a car about once every hour or two).

“Come on get up”, “I can’t I’m too tired”. I packed up my sleeping bag and got dressed then collapsed onto my bed again. “Come on mate if you’re still lying here when the sun gets out this is going to get a lot worse very quick”. So the conversation with myself continued for the next hour and a half as I packed my gear up. “If you don’t get off your lazy arse and push that damn bike to the road you could well die here”. It was obvious to me that if I stayed put out of sight that once the sun came out and got above 40 degrees things would get very bad very quick. Slowly I mustered the strength and courage to push my bike the 20m to the road with the occasional stop to launch yellow/green energy drinks out of my mouth and nose at 100km/h.

At such a moment when travelling alone it is painfully obvious that one is walking on a knife edge, on one side just a bad day that costs a pair of underpants and a couple of recovery days on the other the first in a series of events leading to becoming “that guy that died in the desert”. Luckily I had the tenacity and strength to get to the road, and was lucky that someone picked me up within half an hour, and the rest as they say is history…

Sometimes I wish I could sit next to a younger version of myself just after he has once again been beaten up for no good reason. Put my arm around him, dry his tears and say “don’t worry mate, you’re going to have a better life than these thugs, you’re going to grow up to be a nice guy and one day, just maybe you too will live a big adventure”.

Livingstone I presume? 

For me the town of Livingstone (named of course after our Scottish friend) has always conjured up images of colonial buildings, quiets streets and a jumping off point for classic African adventures. I’d always feared that the reality would be far from my childhood dreams. Livingstone is in fact just your classic hustling and bustling border town with a few extras because it is also a tourist town, therefore nothing special.

We spent our time in Livingstone just outside of town only 5km from the falls, lazy afternoons in the Waterfront lodge restaurant eating great tourist food, drinking the occasional cold Mosi  beer and enjoying the view of the Zambezi and the mist above the falls in the distance.

It’s funny to be in a tourist area again, especially one so well known as this one. The place we stayed is also a crossroad/ changeover point for many overland truck companies or Mzungu wagons as Ken calls them. Advantages of a tourist area : lots of good food, hot shower and somewhere quiet away from prying eyes being once again I’m an anonymous tourist instead of the only tourist in town. Disadvantages, more hassle on the streets, overpriced taxis, food, beer and camping, and of course tourists…

Victoria falls

So I finally got here, I also decided to bite the bullet and pay the $140 for a Microlight flight over Victoria falls, and even went as far as to pay the $20 for the photos (They don’t allow you to use your own camera for “safety reasons”). What can I say…..in a word AWESOME. What a way to see the falls. Unfortunately the view from the ground of the falls is very misty and wet right now due to the high water level, the falls only appear from the mist from time to time as the wind blows through.

The next day we crossed the bridge which marks the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe, and so a new round of adventure can start in country number 6. I’m looking forward to travelling here because of all the bad press and prejudice this country gets I’m curious to see how much is true and how many police check points will try and get a bribe out of me. I suspect that travelling by bike in Zimbabwe will be fine, time will tell.

The town of Victoria falls is one of those custom built tourist towns, which apart from the weather feels a lot like Blackpool in spring, kind of dead, a few touts hanging around trying to earn some money and the half deserted markets, the place feels a lot like a ghost town. Yesterday while one guy started following me try to sell me old bank notes I said “are you deaf I said I’m not interested” His reply was a little heart breaking and probably true, “no man, I’m not deaf just hungry”.

Ken left yesterday which was a surprisingly sad, we really clicked the last couple of weeks and had a great time together, its great to have a drinking buddy, someone to make breakfast when I couldn’t get out of bed and someone to talk to that gets what this is all about. Take care Ken it was fun!

The Overlander trucks

Ok its not my thing to get locked up in a big brother truck for months with other tourists, but fine each to their own. Sitting on a table next to a large group of these “travellers” is always amusing though. Ok, so they are loud and often drunk, that’s fine any group can be like that, what is funny to listen to though is the willy waving (bragging).  “I’ve done Egypt, done Zanzibar, done this done that….” and the next one chirps in with a tougher, harder or more interesting series of countries, areas or story” and this will continue all night, and ironically I never hear anyone say I’ve travelling in…., seen….., enjoyed…..explored….had the time of my life…..its always DONE, as if there’s some competition going on to tick off a list of countries and must do activities. Don’t get me wrong I don’t judge these people, this is their way of having an African adventure and I guess they enjoy getting drunk most nights, sleeping half the day and getting kicked out of the bus from time to time to take some photos at a tick the checklist spot.. But boy am I pleased I’ve found a different way to see Africa.

 Independent travellers

I’ve now crossed into Zimbabwe and I’m staying at the Shoestring backpackers in Vic falls. When I arrived it seemed like a classic backpackers hostel, nice big quiet garden, dorms, camping, a bar etc etc…While I’ve been here I’ve had chance to meet and talk  to several interesting people travelling the hard way. These independent travellers are what used to be called backpackers but for some reason they’re not anymore, so many labels and travelling sub cultures its hard to keep track of what people are nowadays. These people have been interesting to talk to, travelling Africa via public transport and hitchhiking which is pretty much the hardest way to cross this continent unless you try to walk it. Many stories and tips for things to come.

I now plan to  rest here another few days (yes very lazy, only cycled 15km in the last week ) and catch up on some writing and may even have some time for some reading.

In a couple of days I’m also going to publish the full story of my Kalahari adventure a few months ago, a story that I wrote after a little reflection in the Namib desert. Its a difficult story to share but I feel I have to close that chapter of my life. So get your tissues ready!!

“There is a time for departure even when you are not certain the place you are going to go.”

As I packed my panniers and loaded them onto my bike I had mixed feelings. Lusaka had been kind to me, new friends, great hospitality, great food, fancy shopping malls and a well needed week of rest. But a city is a city and I’m not a fan of cities, it was time to move on before getting too comfortable, or overstaying my welcome at my hosts house.

Culture shock

My first morning in Lusaka I took a walk up to Manda hills shopping mall thinking I’d just grab a nice coffee and do a little window shopping and hoped to find a cheap external hard drive. Within minutes of walking into the mall I became a little dizzy and overwhelmed by the amount of people, the huge choice of shops, a food court, cinema etc etc All normal things to find in a mall but after months on deserted roads and small villages it was all a bit much, I had to sit down for a coffee and watch the world go by for an hour to allow a sort of vertigo feeling to subside. Weird what a little culture shock can do.

Friends and hospitality

After seven nights in their house and eating a dozens of expensive restaurant meals it only seemed right to pay my hosts for the meals and beer I’d had in their restaurant while staying with them. But as I suspected Siri and Gerrit wouldn’t have any of it insisting on taking nothing from me. Such wonderful people but I always find these situations difficult such over the top kindness just doesn’t sit well with me and my self sufficient nature but of course I’m deeply thankful for their support and friendship, once again an awkward situation for me but business as usual for such unusually kind people.

Change

After about 2 months of travelling east and north, leaving Lusaka I started heading south for my detour into Zimbabwe via Victoria falls. This change in direction also brought welcome relief from the wind, making it now more of a side wind and sometimes a tailwind. Heading to Southern Zambia also brought a welcome change in scenery, though the hills are small they are refreshing after months of flat featureless roads. I’d arranged to meet Ken McCallum at the Munali coffee farm 90km south of Lusaka and from there we’d cycle as far as Livingstone together.

Ken

My first impression of Ken was “did this scruffy fat git really cycle here from Egypt?” Despite his grungy bearded backpacker look by the time we’d sank an afternoons worth of beer in an Irish bar in Lusaka we were great pals.

Ken is a quiet I.T nerd type and has spent the last 2 years cycling and volunteering at various orphanages and street children projects through Better Life Cycle from Cairo to Lusaka and will continue on to Cape town. He is a great example of someone who just bought a good bike and gear and jumped on a plane a month later with no experience of cycle touring and is doing a great job of it. We had a couple of days at the Munali coffee farm to get to know each other better while he helped them out with geeky I.T stuff that I don’t pretend to understand, then we cycled the 300km to Livingstone together having a good laugh, drinking beer and talking crap and insulting each other as much as possible. Can’t beat British gutter humour to pass time on a long road. Despite his appearance he’s actually fitter than me so I spent a lot of time trying to slipstream his well made windbreaker torso.

Travelling with another cyclist not only means company, cheaper hotel rooms (shame about the farts) but also often gives a great opportunity to learn new tricks, compare gear and see how someone has solved the same problems differently, always very informative.

Apart from weekends away with friends in the Netherlands this is the first time I’ve cycled with another cycle tourist, Ken has given me faith that cycling with a partner for a couple of days isn’t as bad as I thought and opened my mind to the possibility of doing it again during this trip.

Coffee please!

Half way up the 4km drive to the Munali coffee farm I bumped into Jesper (owner), Graeme (who’d come to harvest the soya) and Nick a friend of the family (handyman and talker of much shit). We chatted for a while until someone mentioned that it would be great to have a cold drink right there and then to start the weekend. Not being one to disappoint my new hosts I reached into my rear pannier quicker than John Wayne and produced 6 cold beers and was instantly welcomed into the family like a long lost brother.

It took Ken a couple of days to do his I.T, nerd thing and I had the job of I.T. nerd’s assistant which involved sitting at the pool looking handsome, using the free wifi and drinking gallons of freshly roasted and ground coffee, only meters away from where it is grown. Munali coffee, possibly the best coffee in Africa.

Jespers parents moved to Zambia in the late 60’s from the Netherlands and in the last decades have built up a huge business, lost it then built it up again as well as many many more mishaps and troubles over the years.  Jesper has had a busy life, helping with the business, commonwealth level cycling, crashing a micro-lites and now running the family business and being a family man, all that at the age of 37. The family are warm, welcoming and full of laughs and stories, and despite his huge workload Jesper often made time to have a beer with us in the evening. I left thinking I could write a whole book about the family and there ups, downs and eccentric moments, and I’d only heard the tip of the iceberg so to speak. Once again the Zambian  hospitality and cooking where second to non. It was tough to hit the road after so much luxury, but I needed to get to Livingstone to renew my visa.

Coming soon……Livingstone and Victoria falls……

After a couple of days rest in my $15 hotel room it was time to hit the road again towards the bright light city and capital of Zambia Lusaka. I spent my last evening filtering the filthy tap water while watching The Simpsons on my laptop. Life on the road isn’t always big adventures and crappy roads .

While in Mongu I’d hoped to see the yearly Kuomboka Festival but due to internal conflicts in the local tribes it has been delayed this year. What I did see though was a huge parade of cars and trucks flying huge Chelsea flags so I assume something happened in British football recently.(Still enjoying my 100% news blackout after almost 6 months).

That familiar feeling

The first night I found a great wild camping spot in the woods, 100m from the road so had total privacy so enjoyed a quiet sunset with popcorn and a video on my laptop. Unfortunately at around dawn I felt that rumbling in my guts that spells trouble. By lunch time I was dehydrated, and very tired after only about 30km and all I wanted was to sleep at the side of the road.

I still had enough water for the day and considered just setting up camp and sitting it out but as the temperature approached 35 degrees I started feeling quite sick and dizzy and decided not to play tough guy and just get a lift to the next big town of Kaoma and get a hotel room for a couple of days. Within 10 minutes I was in the back of a truck where I lay among the chickens and smelly dried fish for the 140km which took about 3 hours, a long time to bounce around with clenched cheeks……

Kaoma is a funny little town, just a main street full of shops really. But its almost worth a visit just to see the names of most of the shops and businesses, they seem to be big on God around here.

After about 4 days it was time to hit the road again, though not as recovered as I’d of liked I was sick of just hanging around. The headwind was the worst I’ve encountered so far this trip So I didn’t reach the entry gate to Kafue National park until after dark. So for my own safety the guards insisted that I camp at the gate and continue in the morning, I was pleased and relieved to hear this because wasn’t expecting them to let me cycle in the park at all.

Cycling Kafue National Park

There are many good reasons not to cycle through Kafue, and generally people claim I’m crazy to even consider it. There are hundreds of wild elephants, lions, chetaahs (as I discovered) and many other things that go bump in the night.

But in my constant search for adventure I like to search out the limits of common sense, take a small calculated risk and just have fun. Unlike many of the better known parks where tourists and safari’s a are daily thing and the wildlife is used to or pissed off with all the attention I figured Kafue would be quite the opposite and that most of the wildlife would just do a runner when the spotted me, just like the elephants I saw in the Caprivi. I did draw the line at camping though so instead of wild camping did 11 hours of cycling to get from gate to gate in that damn wind (135km).

Lion?

About 30km into the park while constantly watching the side of the road in the hope of seeing a lion or Elephant, I saw 3 white tails about 30m away parallel to the road.Due to the strong headwind they hadn’t heard or smelled me so I was able to cycling just ahead of them because of the long grass and get my camera out…….

Naturally soon after that they spotted me and bolted 100m into the bush, what a sight!!! I’d thought they where lions but found them a little small and nimble for lions. My heart was pumping and I was so happy to see them in their element. They watched me at a safe distance for about 2 minutes then bolted another 100m where I was able to finally get a photo without all the bushes and grass.

Was I scared? only scared I wouldn’t get a good photo (of the 15 I took only 1 was usable in the end). It was just such a joy to see these cats in the wild and doing their thing. Later when checking out the photos it became apparent that they where in fact not lions but Cheetahs, which are rarely sighted in Kafue…..happy days…

For the remainder of my journey through the park I had no time to look for wildlife as I was fighting off a swarm of hundreds of Tse-Tse flies. These infamously nasty huge horsefly like things can bite though most clothing and it hurts like hell. Sometimes dozens would be on my back doing their thing, horrible. It seemed the only way to keep them at a safe distance was to ride 25km + but this was an almost impossible task with the wind. By the time I got to the other gate I was itchy, tired and damn sore, so camped at the gate and fell asleep soon after dinner. Now for the next couple of weeks I need to watch out for signs of “sleeping sickness” caused by a nasty parasite that the Tse-tse can carry. Tip for other cyclists, put your waterproof jacket on like I did, its bloody hot but most of them can’t bite through it (its probable full of holes now though).

A bus trip?

The next day wasn’t very productive and when I reached the next main town of Mumbwa (after only 40km of that damn wind) at lunchtime I just had a beer and called it a day. I had planned to meet a friend in Lusaka on Saturday which was now looking almost impossible with 140km to go into the damn wind.

So decided to quit while I still had my sanity and take a bus the next day. Being an African bus I had to wait 2 hours for it to fill up then the journey took 3 hours….reminding me why the bicycle is my preferred means of transport. Naturally I also had to spend 10 minutes negotiating the price, they tried to overcharge me by about $12 just because I’m a Mzungu, and $12 dollars is serious money when you consider its about 50% of my daily budget from here on in.

Once in Lusaka I battled the busy streets from the bus station to my hosts restaurant. The nice people at Gerritz German Restaurant have be spoiling me with great food and cold beer, and I have the luxury of my own room in a quiet suburb of Lusaka.

About cheating

I think I established long ago that I’m no longer a purist, I don’t have the need or wish to cycle every kilometre of this trip. There are several examples of people who are purists and spend months or years suffering just so they can say they cycled it all, the best example I’ve read in recent years was Riaan Manser’s circumnavigation of Africa.

Despite not being a purist I still look for adventure and will often choose the longest or hardest route I can pure for the fun and adventure of it rather than trying to prove something. Sometimes compensating for this madness when sick or short on time by taking a lift.

I feel sorry for these people who have something to prove to the outside world in whatever way they think is right, measuring themselves against an invisible standard and often making parts of the journey miserable and for what? So they can say they cycled everything? So what, if you want to be a tough guy then try doing it without luxuries like gears, light weight expensive gear or a fancy bike, do it as the locals do or even just walk it barefoot in a thong!

In the end we should all just look for our own challenges and fun and not feel the urge to prove something to the outside world. That is why I consider my bike my primary means of transport in Africa but it’s certainly not my only means of transport

…..End of sermon…

Wondering if any of that will make sense in the sober light of day……:)

Anyway, any day now I’ll leave the luxuries of Lusaka behind me and head to Victoria Falls and onto Zimbabwe. I hate the prices and the busy city and had quite a culture shock the first time in a shopping mall here, but good food, overpriced Illy coffee and cake is a very nice distraction.

Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing at all.

Helen Keller

Lazy days

Reaching the Zambezi river is quite a milestone for this trip, the first of Africa’s big four rivers which I plan to cross during this trip (The others are Nile, Congo, Niger). I spent a week alone just sitting under a big shady tree staring across this huge mass of water. On the other bank is Zambia and I wondered what adventure was waiting for me there. I used this week to catch up on internet stuff, bicycle maintenance and mainly to rest up after my 1000km sprint in the previous 2 weeks.

From Katima the logical route would be to cross into Zambia and cycle the 200km to Livingston to see the Victoria falls. The other route to the falls via Botswana is a pain because cycling is not allowed in the Chobe National park. On my to do list for this area is Lusaka (capital of Zambia), Livingstone but also Zimbabwe. There is no logical route to do all this without a multiply entry visa to Zambia or Zimbabwe and I don’t feel like sponsoring either government the extra $20. That said within 5 minutes of looking at my map I could see a perfect solution.

While chatting to the owner of the internet cafe I mentioned I was considering cycling to Mongu in Zambia, her reply was “you can’t cycle that road, its a ‘orrible ‘orrible road” and so it was decided, I would take the 1500-2000km detour to Livingstone via Mongu and Lusaka along the ‘orrible ‘orrible road and cross into Zimbabwe via the falls. It was once again time for adventure……..

Peter

Since the early days of planning this trip I’ve followed the adventures of Peter Gostelow and his BigAfricaCycle and before that his 50,000km journey from Japan to the UK by bike. He has been on the road from England now for 2.5 years and despite various set backs which would of sent most people home he has continued his journey. For a large part of the past 2 years I sat a home reading about his adventures green with envy that he was doing it and I was still at home working, saving and planning.

Within minutes of meeting Peter I commented that Katima Mulilo was the most African feeling town I’d seen so far, he replied that it was the most civilized town he’d seen in a long time. This sums up our whole meeting really, we met at a crossroads to both our journeys, for me the gateway to central Africa, more adventure and cheaper living. For Peter the gateway to the last couple of months of his trip and a more civilized world of expensive luxury supermarkets and expensive accommodation. It was obvious while speaking to Peter that he was winding down his trip and it would now be my turn to live the adventure and now he was a little envious of me, and almost tempted to just turn around and head north.

We spent what was planned to be two days hanging around the river, swapping stories, tips and sharing a few cold beers. Peter has the quiet nature you’d expect from someone who has spent about 5 out of the last 6 years alone on the road and this made him great company for me, a good balance of chatting, gear talk, tips swapping and silence. What was supposed to be two days together rapidly became four and had we been travelling the same direction it may have become more.

On the fourth day we spent most of the morning packing, procrastinating and delaying the inevitable departure, it was kind of weird and very pleasant to connect in such a short time with someone with so many similar interests, passion and sense of adventure. It was obvious neither of us wanted it to end, with an awkward handshake we went our separate ways Peter to the endless roads of Namibia and on towards Cape Town, myself into Zambia, central Africa and adventure.

Thanks Pete for a couple of great days, I hope we can do it again sometime.

Into Zambia

Leaving the air conditioned Namibian immigration office I wondered what awaited me on the other side. After a little hunt around the border village on the Zambian side I found the shack that was immigration, with only the predictable hassle of them not wanting my dodgy worn out $50 I gave up and gave them a shiny new one, the Zambian visa is for 3 months but I have to renew it every 30 days, strange system. Changed $50 with one of the dozens of money changers (receiving 250,000 kwacha) and haggled on the price of a local sim card.

The road for the first 2 days was far from ‘orrible, it was just a standard dirt road with some potholes, though it was very dusty from road works and passing trucks, parts of the road where even sealed. Every few kilometres I encountered an all too typical scene in modern Africa, the Chinese invasion of road builders. As usual locals are used for the manual labour but all the machinery and supervisors are imported from China.

Day 3 kids stopped hassling me for sweats and the locals became more helpful and friendly without hoping to earn a dollar. Obviously this is also the time the road became ‘orribly ‘orrible so few tourist have made it this far to corrupt the locals. The added complication of the Kalongola ferry not running due to the rainy season high waters meant no cars come this far up either.

Adventure?

The first couple of days I was able to camp at overpriced tourist campsites($10) on the banks of the Zambezi. The time between the campsites felt like I was once again in Uganda, the road got steadily worse and where scattered with small poor villages, some with a little shop where you can buy the basics and some also had a water pump where I was able to refill rather than use river water.

Once I left the campsite near Sioma the road quickly turned to a track which in turn quickly turned to sand. And so the adventure started, of the 40km I travelled that day to Nangweshi about 10km was deep soft sand which I had drag and push Mr Hyde through and the rest not a lot better. Some parts of the road went uphill making it impossible to push Mr Hyde through the deep sand so I found myself shuttling my gear 200m then my bike the 200m under the midday sun.

This went on for an hour or two, in all a 8-9 hour day to cover the 40km. I suspect some folks may find such a situation quite frustrating, I found myself just laughing…”you wanted adventure”, with thoughts of the fact I had enough food and water I figured I would just plod on nice and slow and could eat and camp when I’d had enough, no worries!! I think to fight such a situation would become very frustrating, to just accept it and push on calmly is much easier.

Once in Nangweshi I was rewarded with a $5 room(no water, no power) and millet pap/cabbage/chicken leg dinner for $2 and a beer for $3.

Crossing the Zambezi

Because of the high water the ferry is not running right now, but lucky for me there´s a local boat service, after laughing in the guys face when he wanted $20 for the journey I knocked him down to $10 that the locals had paid which I still thought was a lot for crossing a 300m river. As it turned out it didn´t just cross the river but was in fact a shuttle service from Kalongola to Senanga, a 3 hour boat trip instead of cycling about 20km. Naturally the shuttle service works on an African schedule so after waiting almost 2 hours under the melting sun for it to fill up we finally got moving.

Once in Senanga it was too late to push on so I just took one of the non tourist hotels where I got an en-suite room for $9(rather than $30 at the Safari blah blah tourist hotel next door), not the kind of place you´d bring a pretty girl back to but ideal for a cheapskate cyclist like myself….I’ve taken an extra day in Senanga to chill out and write this post among other things, though who knows when I’ll get to upload it. Tomorrow will be 105km to Mongu(my map says it should be a tar road) where I hope to get internet access and get my sim card registered so I can use internet on my phone once more, not looking forward to seeing “you’ve got 50 new mails” in my inbox.

Walking around the market town of Senanga is quite pleasant and unlike most towns I’ll encounter in the coming year. The locals are not used to seeing a white face so are curious and friendly rather than hassling and trying to get money. I’m often stopped for a short conversation or a handshake. Of course most of the shopkeepers try to overcharge me by 50-100% but that’s just an occupational hazard of having white skin in central Africa, whatever price they quote me I usually just laugh, grin, look into their eyes then ask again then get charged closer to the local price.

Exped Synmat 7 failure!!

So, another one bites the dust as they say. For the second time in a 18 months I have an Exped sleeping mate that has failed me. I expected one day it would die due to punctures but that hasn’t been too bad, only 1 in 100 nights. It appears that one of the baffles is delaminated making it a rather lumpy bed. The answer from Exped wasn’t very helpful either despite me explaining my situation and trip, “it’s covered by a 5 year warranty, just send it to your local dealer after your trip” like I’m going to carry it through the rest of Africa or pay for the postage to send it back…..

If only the quality of an Exped was as good as the comfort then things would be fine. I’ve had enough of poor quality Expeds now and in future will just go for a nice reliable high quality foam mat, 1/3 of the price of an Exped and probably 10x the life expectancy, less comfort but reliability is more important during a long trip.

Congratulations on making it to the end of this rather long blog update.

“Time is like water, even if you have plenty you shouldn’t waste it.”

Illegal alien

I’d just received my departure stamp out of Namibia when I heard the well known Nokia peep peep to say I had an sms, once outside I went to check my phone and to my horror couldn’t find it, the peep peep was from someone else’s phone, where was mine then? Then I remember only half an hour earlier while putting my phone on top of the toilet roll holder thinking, ”whatever you do, don’t forget the phone!!!”.

What now? Forget the phone, it may be gone by now anyway? Go back into the border office explain the situation and hope they’ll let me back in for a few minutes? Or just run the gauntlet and hope nobody hassles me?

It was 2pm and very hot so most people where inside enjoying the shade and airco, so I went for the gauntlet. 1 minute into the 1km sprint to the petrol station I thought “here we go, the phone is long gone by now and in an hour I’ll be in jail for illegally entering the country”. Once again luck was on my side, the cleaning lady looked a little disappointed to see me cycling to collect her new prized possession and 5 minutes later I was filling in my customs form at the Botswana side, a little warm and sweaty but very relieved.

Silver

When Silver told me his name 20 minutes into our journey I asked if his older brother is called Gold, he didn’t understand……as usual one of my fine humour moments was wasted or lost in translation.

For the last 40km to the Namibia/Botswana border I was once again very concerned that I may get hit by a truck, the road was often narrow without much of a shoulder and all it takes is a moments lack of attention by me or a truck driver or him grabbing a coffee, new CD etc a little twitch of the wheel and Shane Cycles Africa is over. Unlike the developed world these guys don’t have compulsory rest periods. Silver later told me he’d driven from Angola (1200km) and had only slept for 2 hours in 2 days and hoped to drive another 600km to the SA border before sleeping again, not unusual for an African truck driver, cyclists be warned! I love being back on a tar road, I hate being back on a tar road……

I met Silver in the customs queue as I checked into Botswana, together with other truckers that were laughing at my plan to cycle part of the Trans-Kalahari highway, their banter was refreshing in one way, usually when I tell people I camp near the road they say I’ll be murdered, now it was “you’ll get eaten by a lion!!”.

Trucker : “you’ll be eaten by a lion”.

Shane : “do you drive this road often”.

Trucker: “yes, every week”.

Shane : “how many lions have you seen on this road”.

Trucker: “None”.

Shane: “thanks for the useful info………!!”.

At this point Silver offered to give me a lift as far as the “turnoff”, 160km further where the road branches and  95% of the trucks head south towards Gaborone and South Africa. Safety first and all that I took the lift, from the turnoff I cycled for an hour on the now quiet road and camped in the bush about 20km outside of Ghanzi.

Silver was an interesting guy and had obviously seen through my disguise that I’m bicycle repair man, an hour into the trip I was helping uncouple the double trailer so he could refuel from the spare tank the hose was 3m too short and not wide enough, cue bicycle repair man and his Macguiver tricks. That’s Africa for you, an hour or two later we were on the road again.

Check him out smoking above the fuel tank…..

Born in Mozambique he escaped to South Africa 15 years ago during the troubles. Now his boss uses(abuses) his Portuguese language skills by sending him to Angola a lot, he’s just spent 2 months on the road and after just 2 days off with his wife and kids will once again be heading to Angola, some people have shitty jobs here.

Cycling the Trans-Kalahari highway

Luckily early in my trip I discovered that there are better ways to get from Namibia to Tanzania than taking the Trans-Kalahari, but not wanting to take the main roads in Northern Namibia I took a little detour into Botswana before cycling the Caprivi strip in Namibia. Part of the detour is 400km on the main road plus another 300km on a road near the Okavango with equally boring an unchanging scenery.

Even at night it doesn’t get more interesting.

I had a different idea of how the road would look, it’s called the Trans Kalahari so I was expecting the big red dunes and desert I’d seen during the South African Kalahari. Instead it’s a tar road with 15m grass left and right then camel thorn trees and bushes which you can’t see past. The road had been flat and unchanging for the last 800km and guess what? I’ve had a headwind all the way, feels like I’m in the Midwest again.

The last week has been a big waste of my time and I should of taken a lift really, but having already cheating for 160km it didn’t seem right to take another lift this week. Time is like water, even if you have plenty you shouldn’t waste it!! But at the same time these boring and tedious parts of the trip are also part of the journey and shouldn’t really be skipped. Any pilgrimage, journey or voyage of self discovery also has its moments where body and mind try to resist their environment, these too are obstacles and challenges to be overcome even if they are less obvious than a mountain or desert. At the time the Midwest seemed like a waste of time, but with a few years reflection I now realize this was an important part of the trip. In this time I learned my inner strength and determination. Only by repeatedly waking up with tired sore legs, wondering how I was going to cycle 100km then once again doing it did I learn to trust my body and know that I will always get there in the end, no matter how I feel.

In the end I’m pleased I didn’t take a lift, it’s too easy to get into the habit of putting one’s thumb out when the going gets tough for one reason or another. For now my criteria for taking a lift are still a) if I’m likely to get hit on a busy road or, b) I’m seriously ill.

My only moments of pleasure during this part of the trip where the first and last hour of the day with my cup of coffee in amongst all the noise of the bush  as the sun rose and fell and the occasional interesting creature I saw…..

Watch out for the lions.

Though I’d been warned about the lions I haven’t worried at all about them, there is so much cattle, donkeys and horses around as well as the small settlements of shepherds that any lions that may be around will be so fat and lazy from eating baby cows or baby people that the last thing they’ll want is a smelly me. I’ve spent the last 7 days camping wild in the bush and only once had a shower at the  shell station in Sihithwa , I was planning on camping there but is was a little rough so I just paid for a shower and moved on. (most of this post was written last week btw)

On a lighter note, I’ve finally found food that my Titanium Spork doesn’t like after 3 years of searching, spaghetti just doesn’t work

What’s next?

Good question, I’d only thought about my trip as far as Victoria falls. So sometime soon I’ll need to sit down in an internet cafe or borrow a Rough guide/ Lonely planet and see what I do and don’t want to see between here and Dar el Salam, and in the mean time sort out an address there to send my next package of spare parts to. I’d like to go to Zambia and Zimbabwe but don’t know if its practical to go through both ($50 for each visa or more for a multi entry visa).

Any tips on things to do and see in Zambia, Zimbabwe, Malawi and Tanzania are welcome…….

“A mind that is stretched by new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.”

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A change of pace

The First days travelling by car felt great. Covering hundreds of kilometres in one day in the luxury of cool airco. By the third day though I started to notice that things were not quite right. The scenery was beautiful as we drove towards Etosha National park but there was no place to stop and take a photo or just stare at it for a couple of minutes. Instead one has to stop at a designated “view point” or rubbish filled picnic area both of which give far inferior views compared to what I could of seen from my bike.

Shane Tours

For the last couple of weeks Mr Hyde has been on holiday and I have been playing tour guide for a visiting friend. It’s been wonderful to share my stories in person with someone who knows me well and also catch up with her adventures from recent months. Linda is more a 4 star hotel person than a digging a hole in the desert to have a shit kind. So for the first few days we took hotels which for me was a little culture shock after the last months in the desert where I usually sleep in my 4 million star hotel.

I found myself lying in bed at night unable to sleep wondering what was wrong, surely I should be able to sleep in a nice soft hotel bed what’s the problem? Slowly it sank in that maybe I’m going a little feral. The hotel air seemed a little too stuffy and warm, no cool breeze at night, it seemed too quiet. No cricket, birds or the evening call of the jackals, and no stars!!

The next days in the car I became more and more aware of how much I was missing my preferred means of travel. The cool airco seemed to leave me breathless because the air wasn’t fresh enough, no wind in my hair, the only sound was that of the airco fan and my dodgy ipod playlist, and not that of the animals, insects and nature outdoors. I think in future I’ll insist that any visitors come with a bike and camping gear

Etosha National park

Like many challenges during this trip I just had to accept my situation and deal with it. Travelling by car did have advantages though, travelling through Etosha by bicycle is not allowed and for good reason. Naturally I also had to bite the bullet when it came to paying for the campsite, camping was 1/3 the price of the cheapest rooms but at €40 for 2 people I had the feeling I was being screwed, I really hate these tourist traps.

Fortunately the rainy season has started so most of the wildlife is able to escape the man made watering holes near the lodges and live in a more natural habitat. This of course doesn’t please the tourists because they don’t get to see as much big game. We were lucky enough to see Springbok, Gemsbok, Kudu, Zebra, over sized chickens and 2 giraffes, all in a fairly natural environment rather than at a tourist watering hole.

We didn’t see any of the Rhino, lions or elephants but that’s life. We where however blessed with a 5 minute run in with these guys…….

The younger one was either too lazy or too curious to move on and just stared at us for 5 minutes, what an experience (though one I’m pleased I had in a car and not on my bike!!).

After Etosha we retraced my steps through to Sessriem, Dune 45 and Sossoesvlei and once again I got to enjoy an awesome sunset over the Zarishoogte from the LittleSossus campsite (the one with the sun bunkers).

But the holiday is now over, the company of a friend for a while has been great but I’m itching to hit the road again, looking forward to once again sleep in desert where I belong where the sounds that once kept me awake at night now help me sleep…

I’m now heading into Botswana for a couple of weeks to cycle near the Okavango then back into Namibia briefly to cycle the Caprivi strip before heading into Zambia near Victoria falls. I’m hoping to meet Peter Gostelow at or near the falls as our paths may cross there. I’ve followed Peter’s journey by bike from England for the last 2 years and will do some of his route in reverse, so I’m looking forward to grilling him for information.

For those of you who have needlessly worried about me getting eaten by a lion in recent month I have to say the time for needless worry is over. Now you can start really worrying as lions sometimes get spotted on the road I’ll be cycling later this month hahaha!!!!

A change of direction

This was my last sunset over the Atlantic for about the next year. For the next 4-5 months I’ll be heading towards Dar El Salam were I’ll get to enjoy the sunrise over the Indian ocean. After that who knows…..

Instead I’m going to share some photo’s, thought’s and experiences from recent weeks.

Things like some of the wildlife I’ve seen in recent weeks, all of which was “wild” and not in some game ranch.

This was amazing, about 20 of these guys sprinted across the road infront of me.

I don’t know what kind of bug this is but a whole swarm of them got pissed off with me when I started having lunch under “their” bridge. Leaving me running around flapping my arms like in a cartoon, one of them managed to sting me too…grrrr.

But, the life of a cycle tourist isn’t always hard work, sore legs, hungry and thirsty desert miles. From time to time its possible to have a fun evening getting looked after by the locals.

Though I’m not a fan of the “must do” tourist attractions I found the dunes in and around Sossusvlei something quite special…..

I got a lift into the dunes by some backpackers, and got reminded of the backpacking lifestyle. Unfortunately many backpackers see Africa like this, passed out with a hangover only getting woken up to take photo’s at the must see spots. Lonely planet boxes ticked they can move on to the next party.

A hard day at the blogging office

Tour cycling doesn’t make that beer belly go away quite as fast as you might hope Maybe in central Africa I’ll get that Adonis like body I deserve.

I spent a couple of nights in these camping bunkers. Looks ugly and reminded me of a 1950′s atomic testing site film. But with afternoon temperatures of 45 degrees these bunkers stay fairly cool, saving the day and making you forget how ugly they are.

My luxury en-suite camping bunker!

Bunker or no bunker a sunset over the Zaris mountains is beautiful.

These things are a road grading team, nomads that live on the road and try to keep it in good condition. These guys are good for road conditions information( though what they call good is not always what I consider good) and have helped me out a lot with water at crucial moments.

Shane the tourist attraction, once again a dozen camera lenses stare at me from within a bus, at least these Germans where nice enough to stop and have a chat too (and donated a cold drink and apples ).

Romantic sunset dinner for one please!

The desert man before a trip to the barber

A younger, cleaner, take home to your mother version after a trip to the barber..

So thats that, tomorrow I’m heading to Windhoek then saturday my best friend is arriving to visit me for a two week holiday, so ShaneCycles becomes ShaneTours (book now for 10% discount….) .

So no tough guy cycling stories for a couple of weeks I’m afraid, Mr Hyde and I are going on holiday for a few weeks, after that its on to the Caprivi strip either via Namibia or Botswana via the Okavango, I’m not sure yet….

Gear and lightweight travel

Preparing a trip like this involves a lot of time reader other blogs, searching and reading forums and asking for a lot of advise. Life on the road is wonderfully simple. Do I have enough food/water with me? Where am I going to sleep tonight ?and will my legs last another x days without a rest day? simple.

It seems so many people (armchair travellers?) spend too much time (myself included before the trip) joining in these pointless discussions about gear and counting the grams. Shaving off 20g here, 50g there all nice in theory but now I always have 500g pasta, rice, flour, sugar, milk powder and 5kg of other food, plus up to 20kg water, and so long as the road isn’t too steep I really don’t notice the difference between 10L of water or 20L and if it is steeper it just takes me longer, so what!!.

There I was before the trip customising my multi-tool to save 50g. Though obviously I did make all the right decisions with my gear (try and find someone that doesn’t think they made the right decision after paying so much money).

People, cycle more, talk less.

Wild camping:

A long long time ago (seems that way anyway) I shared my doubts and fears of stealth camping/camping wild. Well, as promised with more practice it has become a lot easier, especially in these remoter areas, now I sleep like a baby when camping wild. I now often begrudge paying money at a campsite when in fact I’m often just paying for a comfy shit and a shower, barking dogs, cars coming and going and many other people noises.  I now find that I sleep better away from all those people noses, enjoy the night sky from inside my mesh inner tent and find it very convenient to just crash 10m from the road just before it gets dark. With a background noise of crickets and birds singing me a bedtime lullaby. It’s interesting how ones views chance so drastically with a little experience, though I won’t always have the convenience of these desolate deserts.

 The journey:

Around New Year I mentioned I was starting the personal journey and was ready to be alone and finished with small talk. Wow that seems like such a long time ago and is only 7 weeks. Now 7 weeks on I’ve had 2 evenings of good conversation in the free state, and a weekend in Van Zylsrus apart from that I haven’t exchanged more than a dozen words with anyone, usually paying for something or organising a room or campsite.

I’m a little shocked at how easy it’s been to be so “alone” and I still enjoy it most of the time and it gets easier all the time. But now I’m ready for a real conversation again, and still not ready for pointless small talk. It’s strange that in this modern “social” world that it’s so easy and so nice to be alone in the wilderness.

I must confess though that I have regular contact with friends, readers and stalkers though social media on my mobile phone. Maybe that makes it all a lot easier, happily alone but still in contact with people that are really interested (when it suits me!). It’s a changing world with all these smart phones, 3G and internet. I won’t start a conversation about the pro’s and con’s of staying connected but for me it does give a better balance, allowing me to share my story online rather than only in a diary and also to have interaction with readers.

I think had I done this 10 years ago I would of been a lot more lonely. Wait I did do this 10 years ago in SE Asia (without a bike) and was a lot more lonely. Case closed.

I wonder if any of that makes sense outside of my head….?

Lessons learned in my 3 years of cycle touring:

• When you need it most you discover your water filter won’t filter sand. There isn’t much water to filter in the desert…….
• You spend more time going up than down.
• Prevailing winds are a myth, a tailwind is as likely to turn up as a bus full of nurses.
• Water filters are not as convenient as you might hope, filtering dirty river water means cleaning the filter after every litre.
• Scorpions like sleeping under nice warm tent ground sheets at night.
• If you know nothing about shakes, you will be scared every time you see a snake, no matter how big or small.
• Breathable waterproof clothing is also a myth, either that or every product I try has asthma. But in the end they do keep you warm and wet rather than cold and wet.
• A puncture is never convenient, so just deal with it and move on.
• The “ultimate touring tire” is also a myth, some people get more punctures than others for a 1000 reasons, rolling resistance and a smooth ride are irrelevant when riding a 60kg bike on bad dirt roads.
• Just about every spare part or tool you carry will be the one you never need.
• Maps lie, so do locals, always check and double check with different sources.
• If a local says “that road, route, country is impossible to cycle” it is usually non-sense.
• Most people you speak to will assume you’re going to get mugged, killed or run over in the next town, county, state  or country.
• If a car driver tells you it’s another 5km, it could be anything between 5 and 25km.
• The top of the hill you see 300m in front of you is not the top of the pass, just another blind summit.
• Hitting gravel at 50km/h does not hurt. The cracked rib and gravel rash for the month after do.
• Flies, ticks and mosquitoes will love it if you don’t cover your gravel rash up with something.
• Planning travel time and distance is pointless, just ride and see how you feel on the day.
• When buying €3 flip flops you get what you pay for €4 ones are not a lot better.
• You spend more money in internet cafe’s updating your website than you will ever  make through Google adds. Or maybe I don’t have enough of those ugly banners like this one on my site.
  
  
• The bicycle has an huge invisible magnet which pulls busses, trucks and cars towards it, be careful!
• People are kinder, more open and welcoming than most of us expect, you just have to see it and be open for it.
• Your body and mind will become tougher the longer you travel.
• It’s ok to dance, sing or talk to your bike when alone…..Well I hope it is, I do it a lot.
• Cycle touring will change your life, probably for the better.
•  Cycle touring will change your life, probably for the better.

The end!

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered”.

G.K. Chesterton

I said in my previous posts that I hoped the following few weeks would be nice and boring, Well here goes…..

Best laid plans pt 1. Once again onto the road less travelled

Fairly rested after a few days in the “bright light city” of Keetmanshoop it was time to hit the road again after paying my N$100 fine for “operating a black pedal cycle on a public road without wearing a helmet at all times”. Yeh right very funny have a nice day……. ooh you’re serious?……. Yes officer how reckless me.

I insisted that I would take it easy after going to the edge so much in recent weeks, so the plan was simple…. Take a shortcut on the D609 instead of the slightly longer ‘C’ road and cover the 180km to Helmeringhausen in about 2.5 days. Looking back the phrase shortcut I should of known better.

Day 1 started later than planned but day 1 after a few days off always starts later than planned so it’s almost part of the plan I guess. It was a little overcast and had rained all night, with only a gentle headwind and a refreshing cool temperature of 25 degrees things started well. Just outside of town the dirt road started again which was more mushy than usual due to previous night’s rains, ”not a problem I’ll just have to cycle an hour longer today”. So after an hour or so out of nowhere a monster thunderstorm had me cowering under a tree with my tarp over my head and feeling a little chilly. An hour later it was obvious that the rain wasn’t going to stop soon so I headed off again only the find the road even more mushy and damn hard work.

Within minutes I reminded myself of my pledge to take it easy, I was in no mood to fight yet another bad road especially while cold and wet, so 10 minutes later at 11am I was in my tent and went to bed until the sun came back out to play at 3pm, after a little lunch I hit a slightly dryer road.

Soon after I noticed that there were no more fences along the road. This finally gave a feeling of being in the wilderness after all these months, and instantly a mild panic that maybe the 17L of water I still have will have to last me another 2.5 days, no fences means no farms.

Day  2 started well, I managed to get my lazy arse out of bed in time to start cycling at sunrise (well almost). My Gps said I would cross the “Fish river” after a couple of Km’s This is one of the main rivers in Namibia and is famous for the ”Fish river canyon” which is a big tourist attraction further south (though I suspect the Canyons I saw where just as nice just not so Tourist bus friendly). I was expecting the river to be fairly dry if it existed at all because hiking the Fish River Canyon is only possible from  mid-April because of the water situation. All the same I was down to 12l of water so hoped the descent to the river from the bridge wouldn’t be too bad so I could top up.

How naive to think that there’d be a bridge on a D road……..so I was confronted with this at 7am…….

Obviously the recent rains had done their work and it was time for me to do mine. So much for an easy couple of days, the river was on the border line between a do-able river crossing (always exciting when alone) and a turn back, do not stop at go, do not collect 200 pounds. And start again in Keetmanshoop.

What followed was a stressful and rather tiring hour. 3 shuttle runs to the island 2/3 of the way across(50m). This was slower moving and mainly only knee deep. Then I did the 3 runs to the far shore in slightly deeper and faster running water(30m). It started off with “check me out doing a river crossing with my bike on my shoulder, this’ll make a nice video” and by the 5-6 run I was quite tired and it was more like “this is fucking scary what the hell am I doing” in the deeper water the front wheel would try and dip into the water which increase the drag enormously, so fighting for my footing in fast running water was hard enough, the little kick from my bike from time to time was just scary. The image of loosing balance and getting washed downstream without anyone in the world knowing where I was played at the forefront of my mind. “All is well that ends well……”.

With a precious hour lost I could only cycle another hour before hammock time, the road remained mushy and hard work because large areas had been washed away. Luckily in the evening I came across some small goat farms and was able to get some more water, some of which turned yellow after a few hours……The road remained a nightmare and I stopped at sunset and was in my tent just before the storms started which continued all night giving me a rather restless night wondering which tent pole was going to break.

Day 3 it became painfully obvious that I wasn’t going to get to town in 2.5 days, by 10am I’d only covered 20km in 4 hours due to the mushy gravel and some spots with very sticky clay and it was once again hammock time. I’d just filled my water up at a farm but was a little concerned about the food situation, I’d started with food for 3 days good eating plus the usual 2-3 days boring reserve, but had eating a lot more than usual due to the damn hard work and boring afternoons waiting for it to cool off.

It was time for action I had to cover the remaining 95km to town as soon as possible or I might run out of food. Lucky it had been a hot day so the gravel was a lot dryer so it was time for a no guts no glory evening, planning to get as far as possible before the storms started again. I had a last supper of pasta, my last tin of tuna and last tin of peas and hung the last bag of nuts on my handle bars to much along the road. Between 6-10pm I stomped out the 50km needed to “break the back” of the remaining distance, almost crashing several times when hitting sand or large puddles in the dark, luckily I have a good headlight run via my dynamo so I saw most things coming.

Shame the Ants had already made a start on my Bannocks.

Day 4 :An early start with a breakfast of 1 day old Bannocks bread and I plodded out the remaining 45km by 10am mainly back on the main C14 which was surprisingly hard work too because of the recent rains. Once in town and after 2 death by chocolate Magnum’s and a 0.5l of coke I started coming to life again.

This is the last car that tried the road I’d cycled

Helmeringhausen

On my map most of these towns look the same, the population could be 5 or 15,000 I could search for more info on Google but would then spend more time on the internet than on my bike, and where’s the adventure in that?. Helmeringhausen has 1 hotel/campsite, 1 shop and 3 houses everything I need really. I was a little disappointed to find out that they wanted N$180 (18 euro) for the campsite, seems a lot of money to for a shower, comfy shit and the chance to hand wash my cloths, the camping part I can do in the desert for free. Unfortunately I really needed that shower and to wash my cloths and was so broken from the last 18 hours that I couldn’t see myself cycling on, I plan in the future to try and avoid arriving in such a state so I can just cycle on when they try to stitch me for tourist prices, or just pay 1/3 of the money for a shower and then move on!!! ( the bus full of people in safari shirts outside should of been a clue that I’d arrived on the Namibian tourist trail).

Best laid plans pt 2.

Obviously at N$180 per night another night at the Helmeringhausen hotel/campsite was out of the question so a rest day would have to wait, I could always take a rest day in the desert now that I’d had my shower and had kilo’s of food. The next leg would be 240km so I stocked up on food and planned for 5-6 days. Luckily the road was a lot better and it stayed dry for a few days so this was a reverse of the previous leg, my legs where on form so I was done in 2.5 days, and loved the descent from the Zarishoogte into the Namib.

Now I’m taking a rest day at the Littlesossus campsite (was when I wrote this anyway), possible one of the least inspiring places to put up a tent (they have camping bunkers for shade) but with one of the best views I’ve had at a campsite( great view of the Zarishoogte).

And now further with the tourist trail, its funny seeing all those tourist buses and trucks, all those half dead, half asleep tourists missing so many beautiful thing caged behind their glass and airco.

Now onto Sossusvlei, Solitaire and Windhoek and all those other expensive tourist places, so hopefully I wont need one of these things again for a while.