Thursday, August 16, 2012

July 2012, KAMPALA TO CAPETOWN

Kampala to Bukoba.



  Set off early Sunday morning to miss the traffic chaos and made good time to the Equator for a coffee stop at Aid Child.


 Not much traffic  going my way and the border with Tanzania was reached and crossed with minimum delay.No need for the touts at the border as Tanzanian money is freely available in Kampala.Funny how, in all the chaos there is some sort of order and things get done, seemingly against all odds.


 I had accomodation pre-booked for the first night and headed for Bukoba to find it. I have often wondered what would happen if I dropped the bike, and, like many things we worry about, I was about to find out. A novel system is in place in Tanzania wherin they put a barrier across the main road and then screen the traffic so that the trucks are diverted over a weighbridge.Being a little confused and having been waved around one or two roadblocks I took it on myself to find my own way around one.It just so happened that this block had been set up near a crowded bus stop and a friendly local decided to yell a greeting just as i was nervously negotiating through a narrow gap.Imagine my surprise when i jammed on the brakes and discovered that there was no way to get my feet down,at least not until the bike had reached an angle at which it was impossible for me to hold the wt .I suppose all clouds have a silver lining and having been royally entertained, the bus stop crowd  felt obliged to help me pick the bike up.Luckily I was seated on the bike and in gear before the request for payment was made.
 Embarrassed, I got to Bukoba and, while getting  funds from an ATM,was approached by a friendly local youth on a bike.He told me he and his cousin were keen bikers and it wasn't long before his cousin turned up on a GS1200 to greet us and lead the way to the Balamaga Bed and Breakfast where we had booked.The cousin happened to be the Local Toyota garage owner and a keen biker and motorist to boot.
   Perusing my A4 printout of the map of Tanzania together with the 4" screen of my GPS the enormity of the task ahead became apparent and I realised out that the road was longer than I had bargained for.It may be cheaper to prepay flights but it certainly increases the stress levels when faced with a 4000+ mile ride over unknown roads to get to the airport.



Bukoba to Isaka



 Nothing remarkable on this journey except the roadworks and having gained experience the day before dropping the near stationary bike I went one stage further and fell off the moving bike.Not wanting to stray too far from the established method the bike decided to skid out of control in front of an audience of roadworkers.They say every cloud has a silver lining and I suppose that while I find it almost impossible to ride on thick powder and it is very embarrassing to fall off in front of an audience at least there is a soft landing and eager hands to lift the bike.
  Luckily there was little damage and I was able to carry out roadside repairs to the bike with my insulating tape,my pride  took a little more of a battering than the bike as I was led through the sand and dust out of the roadworks by a 100cc Chinese Boda Boda(taxi bike) me following meekly on my big Adventure Bike.Once on the tarmac again I soon returned to full confidence just praying there was no more offroading to be done.
     Isaka was the first taste of finding local hotels as I was nowhere near the tourist route.For 10 dollars a clean en-suite room was found in an hotel just off the main street.Admittedly the food was nothing to write home about and only remained briefly in my stomach but the room was fine.When out for a stroll later I did wonder why there were so many waitresses in the outdoor bar/club but I guess that was just  because the mainly male clientele demanded good personal service.



Isaka to Singida



 Nothing out of the ordinary except the bike remained upright and the roads were good.On the entry to Singida at a vehicle check I enquired about hotels and was directed to a small lodge on the edge of town.Lodge really doesn't give the idea as it seems to mean just a small hotel in these parts.Whatever it means this one was excellent and at 40 dollars the night for a two room chalet and very good food I was in heaven.



Singida to Dodoma



Imagine the surprise to come out after breakfast to find that something had happened to your bike.After the fun in the sand the previous day and the joy at finding such good lodgings I had just disgustedly dumped the bike in the car park and left the accumulated dust and dirt  for another day .What I came back to was a gleaming bike with a proud elderly Askari standing nearby. How could I not, he had made my day so I made his.His face was gleaming as bright as the bike as I rode off.

 I thought to myself that all was now well with the world and made good progress on good roads towards the Capital of Tanzania, Dodoma. I knew that the traffic would not be too bad there and was confident of finding good lodgings for the night, maybe even spoil myself with a five star and a good meal.

 Surprisingly the journey is a bit strange when there is nothing about and the roads are good, just mile after mile through open countryside and Dodoma soon came.I had the name of a good hotel in my GPS and followed the directions given.It's true I was a bit surprised that I turned off the Tarmac onto a potholed dirt track but surely the GPS could not be wrong.After carefully negotiating my way through the market stalls and finding my way out of a particularly large pothole I looked up and there it was, the Dodoma Grand Hotel.It seems there is some variation on peoples perception of Grand.I realised that it was true one swallow doesn't make a summer, I also realised that Capital or no Capital, Dodoma was a bit of a hole, in fact it was a particular type of a hole.
 Eventually settled in a room at the Royal Crown hotel which even though it looked as if it had been built by first year building students for a bet, was clean. One thing I have noticed is that in all these local ( well most anyway) you can get all the services of a five star hotel but just on a different level so having run to the local shop to buy soap powder one of the staff waited at the door while I got out of my riding gear so that they could take it away to wash and iron it. Admittedly it was an extra cost but it was worth the dollar they asked for.
 At this stage of the journey I was still wary of the food hygiene and am becoming an expert on plain spaghetti.Just a thought but maybe I should alert the European law makers as to the flagrant misuse of the name Bolognaise.




Dodoma to Iringa



The distance between Dodoma and Iringa is aproximately 250 kms however in practice it is 576 kms if keeping to tarmac.The only thing to say is the road was tarmac and in good condition but thanks I had my head down going for it trying to get to the airport in time. The further South I was getting the better the infrastructure seems, Iringa was a busy town and there seemed to be a few hotels in the centre but for some reason I don't like staying in the town centres and prefer to find a place on the road in. After asking around for a nice hotel I set off looking and spotted a sign directing a couple of km up a dirt track to a lodge.Any road up it was like an oasis in the desert, very nice rooms with very nice food comfy bed and a good nights sleep.



Iringa to Mbeya



 The going is easy but is feeling relentless now.Getting up every day knowing that any delay will result in missed flights.Once again a decent hotel, passable food and a comfortable bed. One thing has been constant,   everynight so far the olympic highlights have been enjoyed in the room, mainly on flatscreen tvs.and every night the rooms have been en-suite.Quite remarkable at between 10 and 40 dollars per night.This particular hotel was without a lift but I was not allowed to carry my own bags up the stairs and in the morning after my wake up call somebody appeared to carry them back down.The service might be a little different to our Western style but generally the " give a shit " factor is quite high.




Mbeya (tz) to Mpika (Zam)



 After what has seemed like a lifetime the border to Zambia will be crossed and thanks to meticulous planning I arrive 1 hour before it opens giving me plenty of time to practice my defense techniques fending off the touts.I am slowly changing my opinion of these guys, after all what is the difference between a busker and a headline act in Las Vegas, they both do the same job.Another thing is that they are out there on the frontline trying to make money.These border crossings are all relatively easy and as long as good humour is maintained the officials are friendly and helpful.I suppose if I was a famous person trying to make money from the enterprise I would have to pretend that the machinations of officialdom are impossible for any layperson to fathom and have to have special fixers available at every border. Or maybe it just that I am dead good.There was an interesting addition entering Zambia as I had to pay road tax to help with the upkeep.I made the obligatory bleating noises about being ripped off but later could appreciate that the money was well spent, the Zambian roads being very good.
 It felt good to get underway and leave the border behind, riding through unbroken countryside smiling to myself about how good life is as i spotted Zebra, Buck, monkeys etc.I suppose it is a result of getting used to travelling in remote areas that the subconcious registers certain things and when my GPS reminded me to fill up I realised that in the last 150 miles I had not seen a single garage. No need to panic as I always fill to the gunnels before stopping at night and I have the warning set to come on at half a tank.At the by-pass to Isoka I followed a sign to a Total filling station to find some boys with a drum.Naturally I refused as I didn't know the provenance of the fuel they were selling.
 After a further 100 miles I started to get a little concerned but luckily, according to the laws of market forces   fuel was available at the roadside, again from a drum but this time I gratefully accepted being ripped off and continued on my way, all was good with the world once again.Some things are hard to believe and 300 miles with out a fuel station is one of them.





 Mpika is like a trading town and is pretty underdeveloped but there was a choice of hotels and I selected the Mango lodge which was reputed to be the best ( in the opinion of the pump attendant anyway).Basic doesn't quite hit the mark perhaps functional is a better word but the chalet I had was clean enough with en-suite bathroom.The Flatscreen TV looked slightly out of place fixed to the wall above a trestle table, sorry, vanity top.




 
The restaurant brought a whole new experience to dining but I do
feel that if they are not going to clean the kitchen for what must have been weeks, surely they should keep the door closed. Anyway, as soon as I could get my feet free of the sticky floor a hasty retreat was beaten, I am just not that brave.



Mpika to Lusaka



 Not a lot to say really, good roads, good progress and a very very nice hotel in Lusaka.Riding through Lusaka it was evident that conditions are improving and the infrastructure is much better.The hotel was definitely very high standard  and the food excellent.The going might be very boring now but life was getting better.




 



Lusaka to Livingstone.



 Once again, good roads and boring. Livingstone is a tourist destination and as such is well kempt and organised with the western hotels at western prices.



Livingstone to Botswana via Zimbabwe



 Set off bright and early over the Victoria bridge and to my shame glanced over to see the falls and carried on without so much as a photo. The bridge came as a bit of a surprise in much the same way as the Alamo, I was expecting something much more.
 The exit from Zambia was a simple affair and the entry into Zimbabwe not what I had expected. Based on education by the tabloid news channel I was expecting to find a chaotic shambles and open hostility. Instead I was treated courteously and the passage was without problems, I even received change from the immigration when paying for the visa.I won't say it's a first but it's certainly unusual.
           I realize that I only traveled a relatively short distance across the tip of Zimbabwe but the road was good and the town I passed through was decidedly western in appearance.Out of Zimbabwe and into Botswana was simple enough but it was evident that this was the start of the African dream for lots of people, we are definitely in tourist land now.The knotted hankies are replaced by Out of Africa ensembles and the coaches by 4 wheel drives towing trailors loaded with kitchen sinks.
 I came to know another truth about travelling long distances in ignorance and that is that you don't worry about an unknown inevitable.I don't know if it was crossing the Zambezi but it was decidedly fresh now and the best was yet to come.
 The roads now are excellent, in fact it seems that they have a spare one for when the main one is under repair.There was a bit of a nip in the air so a stop seemed a good idea when a big lodge sucked us in.?The price seemed a little steep but what the hell, this seemed the real deal. I am sure that when the weather is good the lodges are superb, just the thing as a base when gamespotting on the nearby salt flats. However the open air shower and toilet and the lack of draughtproofing has meant that I now know what it must be like to be locked in a freezer.The only saving grace was that the duvet was superb and I didn't have to get undressed to go to bed.
 Not a lot else to say about Botswana just good roads and dishonest police doing me a favour  reducing the fine by cutting out the middleman and the admininistrative paperwork.I don't know if it's the corruption or the fact that they can't even be bothered to get out of their vehicles that grates the most.The hotel in Gaborone was good but the going was getting cold and boring with the date fast approaching to catch the flights back.Word from Capetown was that bad weather fronts were due at about the same time I was due to arrive.



Gaborone to Capetown



 The crossing into South Africa was simple and well organised but papers had to be issued for the laptop and camera before the journey could continue.
  The going was easy and the infrastructure was well developed but there was an uneasiness everytime we stopped. Even small towns had a squatter camp attached and this seemed to mean plenty of bike minders available at every stop.Walking around the supermarket carrying helmet, GPS etc as well as the basket is not easy.The weather was getting colder, farms guest houses etc all seemed less "african" and progress was easier.









 A night in what seemed like a five star hotel was pleasant enough but it's a bit strange being one of
two guests.The hotel evidently belonged to a politician.
 Did I mention the weather was getting steadily worse. Set off in cold and wind towards Capetown. Estimated two days riding and three days to the flights.Wind getting stronger and stronger and the landscape getting more and more open.Spent about three hours in a filling station cafe debating whether to continue or wait out the weather, advice coming from all corners and directions to local accomodation volunteered from the by now panel of experts I made an executive decision and reasoning that the wind could not get much worse than it does on the autoroute de soleil I set off, after all I am an adventurer now. I was of course right, the wind was not worse than I have experienced on many occasions. The sleet and hammering rain was admittedly and addition but the wind was not worse.
 Arrived at a roadside hotel on the Karoo like a bedraggled frozen rat ( I had not drowned ). Its quite difficult counting money when shaking uncontrollably but I have to say that when I had had a shower and thawed out I felt proud of the achievement and was happy I hadn't wimped out. The food was otherworldly and in the afterglow of a fantastic lunch I realised that the feeling of achievement and satisfaction at overcoming the odds is what this journey is all about.
 What a difference a day makes. The ride down from the Karoo and to CapeTown was completed in sunshine on good roads and Sunday traffic.Finally arrived at friend Tony in Bettys Bay to a very nice welcome. Job Done.