BUENOS AIRES TO SANTA CRUZ DE LA SIERRA, JAN 2014

18/1/2014 Buenos Aires to Esquina



 Bright and early to collect the bike from Dakar Motos.Nice bright weather saw me soaked in sweat waving goodbye to Sandra and Javier and on my way to Esquina for my first stop. No chance of rain and temperatures of 42ºc provided a different challenge to frostbite.

Posada Hambare

After a days rest in a beautiful setting, the jetlag was gone and I was back in travel mode.After dinner I asked to settle my bill so that I could be away bright and early the next day. No need señor, we are here bright and early in the morning.




20/1/2014 Esquina to Formosa




 I have been learning Spanish as I go along but I must have got the wrong meaning for bright and early. After an hour standing waiting for someone to check me out I was nice and mellow when they multiplied the number of dollars by the blue exchange rate to give me a 50% increase on the bill. Evidently my Spanish is not so bad as they realised I was a little upset and put matters right and I left in a cloud of dust muttering to myself for the next twenty miles.

  400 miles with nothing but the occasional friendly wave from Gouchos .One advantage of being geographically challenged was that not realising the size of Corrientes meant I hadn't worried about riding through in the midday rush hour.
    The hotel in Formosa was a resort with a Casino. Nothing Monte Carlo about this place,  I guess there are sad people everywhere. The hotel itself was nice but the food was awful.

21/1/2014, Formosa to Tartagal

Early start to beat the heat, luckily not so early that nobody was passing to help me pick the bike up. Climbing aboard an already started bike and not taking care about the gear change lever resulted in a " Suarez " roll , a bruised ego, ( lucky I was not at the main entrance to the hotel ), and a broken indicator. Duly chastened I was on my way for a 500 mile day.
 Being a public holiday Tartagal was like a ghost town but in the evening things got lively with everybody out and about in the relative cool of the evening. It was noticeable that the population was a lot less European in appearance and more indigenous, it was also noticeable that once out of the garden spots of Argentina the areas are a lot poorer looking.
 I was feeling excited at the prospect of entering Bolivia the next day.

Hotel Almuñecar

22/1/2014 Tartagal to Camiri




 Early start but already decidedly warm and by the time I reached the border it was getting nice and hot. Luckily the border formalities were an open air affair,  just nice when you are wearing full riding gear with the sun beating down.
 To describe the formalities as a shambles is perhaps going a bit far, but not much. We are back to the domain of the touts who really are not needed unless you want to jump the queues. No further comment.
 Once out of the chaos of the border the adventure begins.
  Stopping to top up my tank before reaching Camiri I discovered tourists pay about 3x the price of locals for fuel, also when I asked the girl pump attendant if the service station had wifi she seemed to find the idea very amusing,  yes, this was South America proper at last.
 Ever onward and into the town of Camiri trying to locate the hotel.Today was another holiday so the town was very quiet. My GPS was loaded with a free download which while excellent for Argentina and Chile was rather basic for Bolivia and I was looking for the hotel by its co-ordinates.  Without fail, each time I stopped to figure out the roads somebody went out of their way to ask where I was looking for. Amazing how you feel good about a place by simple acts of kindness.
 The JR Hotel was an example of why well run family hotels are better than five star chains. Comfortable, clean accommodation, give a sh.. factor very high, food simple and good and the owner friendly and interested in his guests,  all this and cheap.

23/1/2014 Camiri to Saimapata





 Early start, 250 miles to Saimapata to leave the bike and I need to get back to Santa Cruz ( 120 kms) where I had a hotel booked. Having been a bit reticent about visiting Bolivia the further I rode the gladder I became that I was here. The roads got more and more twisty and after the long straight drag through Argentina I started to remember why I enjoy being on my bike. Stopping to fill up I managed to get local rates, maybe it was because I bothered to try to chat with the local youths queueing with their plastic jerrycans or maybe just because the petrol pump attendant couldn't be bothered with the paperwork,anyway this is  definitely a friendly place up to now.
 Once off the main Santa Cruz highway and onto the old Cochabamba road to Saimapata there was a steady climb and the roads were similar to mountain roads all over the world with hairpins and plenty of good twisties, there were also plenty of potholes to keep you honest and your eyes open.
 I managed to find the most challenging route to where I was keeping the bike, it really is a little frightening when you stop to eye up the best line around a sharp hairpin and you start sliding backwards, buttock clenching is a description that seems apt.
 Any road up finally made it and the bike is stowed safe and sound ready for the next leg.
 Taxi to Santa Cruz 20 USD for 120 kms, I like this place more and more.


24/1/2014 Santa Cruz

 Santa Cruz is a fast growing city that is allegedly being financed by the export of  a local crop .I think I am honing in on something, it seems that no matter the culture or language, new found disposable income has to be spent on finery, cars and seeing and being seen out and about.We are all the same and aspire to the same things.
 It's strange to think that something that is seen by many as something evil can raise the standard of living of whole countries. No doubt there is a lot of concealed misery in illegal trading but it was not evident looking at Santa Cruz's finest who wouldn't have looked out of place on the boulevards of Paris , mind you, when you need a shoehorn to get into a taxi maybe not.

Santa Cruz was a very enjoyable couple of days at the end of a hard ride and I am looking forward to
the next leg.
  An interesting addition when leaving the country is one extra step in the process having to pass through a drug search of the hand baggage together with a quick questioning.

25/1/2014 Sao Paulo

 Big city of 17 million inhabitants. Number 1 thing to see is the produce market. You don't have to wait for Saturday night to dance and last but not least, if anybody is going for the world cup, the best advice I can offer from this brief visit is " Take plenty of money "

MUNICIPAL MARKET

MUNICIPAL MARKET

MUSIC AT THE MUNICIPAL MARKET
















COMING NEXT IN MARCH 2014

November 2013, PUNTA ARENAS TO BUENOS AIRES

Not a lot to say really. A long slog to get to Punta Arenas,  a bit of a scare that there was no fuel available in Southern Argentina and apart from battling the Patagonian wind not a lot to report.

August/September 2013 BUENOS AIRES TO USHUAIA

30/8/2013

 After 2 days in Buenos Aires recovering from the flight it was time for the off, picked up the bike from Dakar Motos and headed for Cordoba.Got a bit carried away and instead of taking a leasurely two day ride made it by about 8 at night and spent two very nice days there not doing very much at all.

1/9/2013

Cordoba to Rio Colorado

 Bright early start in beautiful weather.Hotel pre-booked in Rito Colorado just to give an added motivation to complete the 600 miles.

 Funny how the mind doesn't connect the obvious7/9/2013. Somehow I had thought Pampas Grass was something special  but having ridden through 600 miles of nothing but Pampas grass I concluded that in these parts it is not quite so exotic.Arrived just before dark with the weather changing from very nice to a bit miserable.

2/9/2013

Rio Colorado to Comodoro Rivadavia

Another 600 mile day ahead but the forecast looked good and whats life without a challenge? and is there any better feeling than a long road, a full tank and the sun on your back?

 The scale of the size of Agentina means that no opportunity to fill up can be missed especially with petrol stations 100 miles apart.This is a lesson quickly learned when riding the last 50 miles to a garage praying there is enough left in the tank.

 The weather started getting colder, wetter and windier. It is slightly disconcerting when riding through torrential rain with the visibility getting less and less and realising there is absolutely nowhere to shelter.By this far South there is nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a tree.Luckily when the sleet started it didn't stick and I was soon through to the other side.I was feeling really sorry for myself when I came across a local biker stopped by the side of the road, thinking he was in trouble I stopped to see if he needed help. Turned out he was just frozen almost stiff and soaked to the skin, at least I was dry so with a HiHo Silver I continued on my way eventually arriving at the hotel. I think it is fair to say that I had discovered a whole new level of coldness but it was nothing that lying half an hour in a hot bath couldn't fix, at least I had stopped shivering.

3/9/2013

Comodora Rivadavia to Rio Gallegas.

 To say the going is boring is an understatement, mile after mile of more or less straight road through frozen windy nothing, not even a tree. I was getting used to these 600 mile days but I was starting to get weary and broke my own rule and went straight to the hotel rather than filling the tank.
 I was busy congratulating myself on the good progress and decided I could definitely get back to Buenos Aires after a couple of nights in Ushuaia but in fact I had taken my foot off the pedal and in the warm glow of a nice meal had an early night in preparation for the triumphant cruise to the end of the world.

4/9/2013
Rio Gallegos to Cerro Sombrero

 Riding long hours provides the opportunity to come up with most of the answers to the worlds problems as I see them and leaves time to ponder on more mudane things perhaps a little more relevant to the task at hand. Today was to be the day when some of my wondering would be answered
  350 miles,2 borders to cross and a ferry was all for to day and as I set off feeling confident I ignored garages on the far side of the road waiting for one on my side, of course Murphy came into play and there was none on my side but the border was only 40 kms away and there would surely be a garage there. I don't know if I mentioned how remote these places are but riding out of the mist to find a queue waiting for the crossing to open it was evident there were no petrol pumps.My GPS showed showed fuel in 140 kms which was definitely outside my comfort zone but instead of retracing my steps I decided that an intrepid traveller doesn't turn back and after muddling through the border formalities I carried on to the ferry.Two things are forever etched into my brain from when I reached the Magellen Straights, the fuel warning light does in fact work as it came on some miles before and there was a further 39 kms to cover from where I was to the nearest filling station in Cerro Sombrero.

 The ferry is a simple affair and you ride on one side and off the other ( after the crossing obviously ). I was sitting berating myself for being so stupid when a Volkswagon Caravanette rolled onto the ferry, German registered belonging to Martin and Kathi who were on a world tour.My bacon was saved and I borrowed 5 litres of fuel which I would replace in Cerro Sombrero. All was well with my world and I sped off to cover the 39 kms to the garage.
 The garage was off the main route but easily found and after the filling up and replacing the fuel I bade farewell to Martin and Kathi and set off.I thought it a little strange when the GPS didn't direct me back to the road I had come off but thought this was a short cut back to the main road, it was. Unfortunately in my haste at celebrating victory the night before I hadn't cross checked the route between Mapquest and my GPS. Anyway after getting back to the main road I was directed to turn left which I duly did.After a few kms I stopped and recalculated the route, something was not right  as I seemed to be the only person on this road. The trusty GPS came up with the same route so I carried on with the road getting slowly worse and my progress getting slower and slower.
 To cut a long story short I found from practical experience that when you are lying sprawling in the mud it doesn't feel any better because nobody is around to see.I also discovered that even at my advanced age I can manage to pick the bike up alone, oh how I laughed when, shaking from the effort and leaning on the upright bike, I wondered how I was going to get back on it. 
 Your intrepid world traveller found a way and carried on into the fire. The going was slow to say the least and I proved beyond doubt that my bike is not the ideal model for offroad. Something else I hadn't realised was that mud can pack so as to make the bike unmoveable and yes, that smell was the clutch burning out.

 I had only been standing next to my broken bike for 30 mins when my fellow world travellers, Martin and Kathi came along but not wanting to delay them I refused help and went back to wondering what to do next.
 I waited a further two hours without seeing a soul and made a decision. I felt like a cowboy carrying his saddle from a dead horse as I slung my hold all over my shoulder and headed off tramping through the mud. 
 Luckily for me Martin and Kathi were not in a four wheel drive and had only got another couple of kms.I gratefully accepted a lift back to Cerro Sombrero and having checked into an hotel I headed to the Carabinieri who called a transport company.Before I went to bed the bike had been recovered.

5/9/2013
Cerro Sombrero to Punta Arenas

  The original plan (before I got carried away) was to store the bike in Punta Arenas and I had been armed with the address of a Garage,probably the only place within a thousand miles that would be able to sort out my problems, so it was to Alejandro Lago's workshop I headed in a pick-up with the broken bike on the back.One sight of his immaculate workshop was enough to know that I was in good hands.
 In some ways this area is remote beyond belief but I didn't stay in one hotel that didn't have free wifi so had been able to pre-book hotels all the way.The one in Punta Arenas was small, reasonable but excellent with nice room and very friendly staff.

6/9/2013
 Went to see my bike which was by now spotless, sorted things with Alejandro and spent the rest of the day wandering about and figuring out how to get back to BsAs, or rather biting the bullet and booking the ticket for the 12 hour bus ride to Ushuaia to catch a flight to BsAs.

7/9/2013
 Bright and early at the bus station carrying my butties and water for the ride dreading the prospect of the next 12 hours.
 As things turned out it was not nearly as bad as i had feared, even the joys of four hours on a collectivo eventually passed.So every cloud has a silver lining, If I had not taken the wrong turn I would still be wondering if I could lift the bike unaided, what would happen if I broke down in the middle of nowhere and I would still be ignorant about travelling to the end of the world by bus.Of course I am now left with a 4 day journey back to my bike but at least the weather will be better.



                      COMING NEXT IN NOV. 2013

ARGENTINA JUNE 2013

18/6/2013
 The three hour wait for the flight passed in a flash, there must have been a conspiracy between the makers of all the time saving devices we have in our lives and the inventors of the smartphones.Looking around the lounge people of all ages, creeds and colours were all doing one thing, getting rid of the excess time, fiddling, chatting, surfing etc on their phones.

 An uneventful flight and arrival at the hotel in a coma.

19/6/2013
 Went to the money-changers and was disapointed to find that the rate was down slightly from last time, 7.7 pesos for a dollar instead of 8. Still it's much better that the official rate of 5.5. Paying cash for everything is ok but walking the streets of Buenos Aires with wads of cash heightens the awareness.
 Arrived on schedule to collect the bike , very relieved to find i could still fit into my riding gear although my voice did go a bit squeaky and breathing became difficult.
 It's been some time since I last rode and after struggling to get on board i was back to wobbling up the road and out into the Buenos aires traffic.Made it back to the hotel but finding myself in the wrong lane and having to get across 5 lanes to do a U-turn is not for the faint hearted.

20/6/2013

 Common sense got the better of me and had another day trying to catch up on sleep.

21/6/2013

Awake bright an early and gave myself a good talking to to get started. By the time I had paid the hotel bill and got my panniers down to the bike the sweat was pouring off me.
 Out of the carpark into the cold air and i was on my way to Parana, the capital of Entre Rios. one note to self, check that the GPS is "on line". it was a bit strange to find whichever way I turned It was indicating the correct way,also a bit annoying  as I had turned off the autopista by mistake.When I eventually got out of the city it was nice to find good roads and lots of flat green landscape, was a bit surprised to find so much water but i guess the region being called Entre Rios should have been a clue.
 Whilst riding and reflecting on all the meat in the restaurants it dawned on me I didn't see a single cow, they must be hiding.
 Argentinians seem to have the same method as we Brits when dealing with non mother tongue speakers,a toll booth operater responded to my Manuel impressions of "que?" , "que?"by yelling louder and louder, eventually looking up from her newspaper to flap her arms around. I now know what " pasada la barriere" means.
 These GPSs are good, and it seems my free download from "Proyecto Mappear"is spot on because it led me straight to my pre-booked lodging.I was a little perplexed as I couldn't figure out from which place they had taken the photograph for the internet, anyway they had a locked garage for the bike and the rooms are clean.

22/6/13

Very pleasant day spent walking around Parana, celebrations underway for their bicentennial.

I GUESS THIS IS PROGRESS??

Very nice place and strolling in the afternoon sun, people watching, it was evident that wherever I have been people are doing exactly the same things, enjoying time with the family.

RIVER BANK AT PARANA




Not having my insurance green card and tomorrow being the last day of a very long ( 4 days ) weekend I have decided to go to Concordia, on the border with Uraguay and attempt the crossing on Monday morning.

 Saw lots of cows today so that's one less thing to worry about.

23/6/2013

 Didn't know what to expect in the way of traffic being the end of a four day public holiday but the road was quiet. Arrived before lunch at prebooked hotel and was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the accomodation for 40 dollars

Lunch was not available at the hotel so I was directed to a shed like building on a garage forecourt about 50 metres away. It was certainly a lesson on not judging a book by its cover.

Inside it was bustling with people waiting for tables. It could have been Sunday lunchtime anywhere in the world with families all out together. The food was good and the service excellent, the thought crossed my mind that once Mcdonalds and the like "progress"to these parts all such family run establishments will be history. There is something that is just "nice "about such places and the way of life they represent, no counting how many chips in a portion here.

24/6/2013

 Set off for the border 20 kms away wondering what was in store. I don't know what i was expecting but after the excitement of the borders in Africa it was all rather tame, there were very few vehicles and everything was quite well organised.Pleased to say that my Spanish ( or miming ) is up to the task of getting me and the bike out of and into countries, i don't know if the Uraguayans fully understood when I told them I was there to escort Suarez back to Liverpool. Both sets of immigration and customs are in the same building so it makes things very simple.I asked if I could just turn around and go back but they said I had to spend a night in Uraguay,No mention of insurance by the Uraguayans and I was on my way.

 Stopped at the first place I came to.It just happened to be a Spa with thermal springs and very nice too.





SPA HOTEL

As it had hot springs there was plenty of hot water and the time was early I got a wash on . Out for a walk with my "spare" trousers on I realised I had made a big mistake when the press stud button at the top of the fly kept popping open. There is no way I can lose wt. here and the next hour was spent drying my washing with the hair-dryer.I felt so bad about my clothes not fitting I had salad as one of three courses at lunch and went for a long walk after.

   Obviously I am on the right track. One thing that is a bit odd though is that I feel like a teenager in this hotel, sitting down to lunch was a bit like being in a rest home.

RUSH HOUR IN PARADISE

25/6/2013

 Re-entering Argentina is a bit more officious than going into Uraguay but is still very straight forward. All the concerns I had have disapeared now as I have finally realised there is nothing magic about any of this, hundreds of vehicles pass every border every day.

BRIDGE BETWEEN URAGUAY AND ARGENTINA AT SALTO

Early stop and feeling a bit frustrated. The trip for me is not looking at things and wandering from place to place. I want to get to Ushuaia and begin the trip north but the weather is too cold down there at the moment and I have got to be patient so will meander back to Buenos Aires over a couple of days.

26/6/2013

Relaxed 200 kms to Gualeguaychu ,the first 100 in fog. Hotel decent enough but there is something a bit sad about holiday resorts out of season.

RIVER GUALEGUAYCHU

PROMENADE

27/6/13

Returned to Buenos Aires arriving in the rush hour just to give a bit of excitement to the day.A few days to kill before flying back so no real excuse for not seeing the sights as recommended by the guide books.
 Seems like all big proud cities are being turned into themed shopping malls.

PATRON SAINT OF ARGENTINA

NO COMMENT NECESSARY

  

FAST FORWARD A FEW YEARS

  

Next episode end of August, Buenos Aires to Ushuaia.

View Buenos Aires to Ushuaia and Punta Arenas in a larger map

BUENOS AIRES APRIL 2013

29/3/2013

   Meticulous planning had me arriving on Good Friday and sitting out the holidays waiting for the bike. Need to get more wt off, 19 hr flight squashed between the arm rests is not the most comfortable way to travel and having to be greased up to squeeze into a Buenos Aires Taxi has motivated me to slim down.
  A lot of reading and listening had me think that Buenos Aires was a sort of war zone with muggers lining up to take turns on the tourists.
  Discovered why the hotel was so reasonably priced.To be fair, a smaller person would have been able to fit in the room together with the baggage and it was clean.



30/3/2013



 Breakfast buffet was worth the price of the room alone.
 Turns out there is such a thing as a free lunch. At least when the restaurant accepts dollars at 50% more than the official exchange rate there is.
 Nice to have a sleep in the afternoon, especially after eating a char-grilled cow. It's fairly obvious that this is not the place to lose wt or expect my gout to go away.



3/4/2013



 Good news, bike loaded in Capetown.
 Bad news, bike off loaded in Johannesburg

 Promised now for Friday 5th.meaning clearance on Monday 8th.

 Discovered that floods were devastating the city, I guess I was just in the right place as apart from a bit of rain there was nothing untoward in central Buenos Aires.




5/4/2013

 Visited Javier and Sandra at Dakar Motos to check all in order for getting the bike tomorrow. 



vaya con dios

8/4/13



  After a weekend involving Salsa, meat, tango, meat, cemetery and more meat arrived at the airport to clear the bike.The whole process was painless and the value of using somebody who knows what they are doing and what is required was obvious.The bike was cleared in a couple of hours.

  Followed Javier back to their place.I hadn't realised how fast my heart could beat without having a heart attack. Threading through the Buenos Aires traffic is exhilerating to say the least, luckily my speedo was not working but I do know that nobody was going faster.My hands could be prised free of the bars after about ten minutes and with clean underwear I was good to go.

 Many thanks to Javier and Sandra for all the help.Once again no matter how impressive the landscapes,  people  leave the lasting impressions.

February 2013 Preparing for South America

Returned to South Africa to arrange the bike transport to Buenos Aires.Completely different view of the place in the sunshine and arriving by air.Definitely a country to return to. I think I'll run out of breath before I run out of places to return to.
  The bike was delivered to Menzies air at Capetown Airport Cargo and after clearing through customs the job was done. Bradly Van Wyk at Menzies could not have been more helpful and even agreed to store the bike for a month before shipping ( free of charge ).
 Airfreight will go around the 29 March and due to public holidays in Argentina will be cleared around the 5 April .

 Many thanks to Tony for all his help in South Africa, it must be a relief to have his lounge back.

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.

KAMPALA-KIGALE-KAMPALA

Time to get back on the road not least because the temporary import papers needed changing.Set off for Rwanda on Saturday early morning and after playing chicken with the Kampala traffic got out en Route for the first night stop in Kabale. Coffee stop at Aids Child on the Equator and another pitstop in Mbarara.

 One of the exciting things about travelling through countries where licences are virtually available to anybody who can afford the price is that you learn all sorts of manoeuvres that you would never see in Europe, ( or wish to see). I now know exactly to the centimetre how much space I can survive with when oncoming tankers decide that when overtaking, they have priority on my side of the road. I spent the rest of the journey wondering what the smell was but on arrival at the hotel my trousers were easily washed and where dry for the morning.

 There was a TV documentary made by a well known celebrity that followed virtually the same route as I have been taking.The further I travel the more I come to the conclusion that theirs was a virtual journey sensationalising things to make better television. anyway without using "fixers" the border formalities ( out from Uganda and into Rwanda )  were completed in less than an hour and I was on my way.

 Kigale came as a bit of a surprise and I began to wonder if it was still Africa.Not a big capital admittedly but drivers followed rules, motorcycle taxis and their passengers used helmets and there was a complete lack of litter.

 

 

 Nice surprise at Kigale Serena hotel when the room was upgraded to a junior suite, mind you the room-rate would have bought a small house in the town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The main thing to do in Kigale is visit the genocide museum. It is hard not to be moved at these places and to accept that these atrocities were carried out by human beings on other human beings.The feelings evoked are similar to those at Auswitz.Evil transcends continents but perhaps the saddest part is that the world stood by watching and let it happen even allowing for there being no oil.
 The journey back was a reversal of the outwood leg and I am getting used to crowds gathering when I stop.