Not to Sossuvei either

Place: Keetsmanshoop ... maybe ... I got no idea.

Tunes: Armin van Buuren

This was our second and last day in Namibia. Tomorrow we will push across to South Africa.

Speaking of Africa, we are no longer in Africa. The roads are so good, the cars you see are are so new, there are shops and they have things there for sale and everything is tidy. And in general everything is less shit. The people also harass you much less and leave you to do your thing.

The day was long and boring. The Kalahari Desert is very hot and dull. Nothing grows there and we did not even see the desert proper. The most boring road in the world has a name – the Transkalahari Highway – so that you know to avoid it. The road was completely straight, with nothing fun worth mentioning. No animals of any sort. It was 36-40 degrees all through the day, which made everything even more miserable.

I am running out of fuel a bit too fast. I can only get about 320km per tank at about 110-115kph speed. This is worse than it should and it may have something to do with my ”naked” BMW design.

After a full day of riding, we found a lodge from the Garmin and everything looked peachy, except we had to try three different cottages until we got one with working aircon. In some hotels/resorts/whatever the staff actually checks these things, but not here. It's up to the guest. Visa is accepted – at least for paying the room, but not for the bar or for the restaurant. 

The town itself is as dead as the desert and so is the ”resort” we are staying in. There was however good South African wine available and the food at the restaurant was edible with no complaints.

The gravel road from Windhoek to Sossuvei - that we decided not to take - was apparently quite difficult in places, with plenty of loose ”ball bearing” rocks and soft sand. We also got a word before lunchtime that Peter and Pasi had not gotten all the way to Sossuvei as Peter has a wrist injury and could not carry on the shit gravel road. Suckers! I knew it was going to end up in tears and we both thank Markus for his ”broken” rear shock. If not for that, we’d be there wrestling with the BMW’s, just like in Kenya. 

Pekka, Teijo and Jukka will press on to Sossuvei on the gravel/sand roads regardless. Let's see if the Honda stays up all the way. This is pretty much the last time when there is a good chance of Teijo dropping the bike.

The longest day of driving

Place: Windhoek

Tunes: Armin van Buuren, Ali & Fila

Today more good progress. Seven hundred and something km. We started in Maun and ended up in Windhoek in Namibia.

The border crossing to Namibia was a breeze. No stamp for the carnet as there is this customs zone thing with Botswana, Namibia and South Africa. So we only need to stamp the carnets when we take the bikes out of South Africa. This saves a lot of time for us so it’s all good.

There were no piss-ants, beggars or random people at the border station. What is going on? There are supermarkets, ATM’s, petrol stations and all sorts of things here. Are we even in Africa anymore?

There are fences on the sides of the roads keeping the animals away. Well, at least the cattle, which is a big improvement. What's next, speed camera's? 

We saw very big antelopes jumping over the cattle fence with ease and warthogs – you gotta love these guys – scooting across the road and through tiny gaps in the fence without even slowing down. It looked like they were playing with fire – just for fun. Riding here feels a bit like a video game. Can you anticipate will the next little piggy hit you as it launches itself across the road on a suicidal course towards you.

Markus lost his rear shock today. On a flat straight road! So much for BMW reliability. He is now also bouncing around like the boys were in Kenya. I'm riding behind him, it looks pretty wild in the corners... He decided to try and limp the remaining 2500 km with just the spring and this means skipping the last off-road bit to Sossuvei on the Atlantic coast.  

I was planning to head straight south even if I have no problem with the bike, so there's now two of us. I do not want to ask for further trouble on those sandy gravel tracks to Sossuvei especially when we are so close to the finish. It's a pathetic decision to make, I know. The bike has taken some hits and the panniers are in a pretty bad shape.

Ari decided to join us as he is also not looking forward to smashing his bike. So, the three musketeers will race towards Cape town and the off-road gang will go to Sossuvei, get stuck in the sand, break their bikes and swear a lot. We will win this race for sure as Markus can drive almost normally (= normal speed) on straight roads and there will be plenty of those ahead of us.

Peter had a little drop on the ramp to the hotel and damaged his wrist. Let’s hope it will not bother him too much. Those things can take forever to heal.

My rear tyre now so worn out that it must be replaced. It is just spinning no matter how gently I try and start moving (it is raining a little as we reach the hotel). The Continental has well and truly served its duty from Hurghuda. Thanks again to Gunnar for the tyre. 

So, I changed my rear to the Anakee 2 I bought from Sweden with some help and the rear brake pads too. This was pretty much routine by now and it was more fun to do it now in the rain rather than in the sunshine yesterday.

Riding in Namibia in the countryside is dead easy and dead boring. The straights are loooong and there is basically no traffic. But in the cities it changes completely. The cars are new and the roads are good but people drive like complete idiots. Or maybe it is against the law to change the lane when you are overtaking. People have no concept of keeping a safe distance between themselves and you so we got the Middle Eastern experience again where people drive two centimetres from your panniers as they drive past. This time – unlike in the Middle East – they have plenty of space around them, but they still do it. Only in Africa can you still fuck up something as simple as this. This is not as dramatic as it may sound as we are already pretty used to it.

They also have these lights in random places on the road. There are red, yellow and green lights and I am sure every colour means something. I think I have seen these before somewhere but can’t remember where.

Windhoek looks like any European or American city pretty much except it’s dead quiet, even on a Saturday evening! It is nothing like the cities in Africa we have seen so far. I think it is fair to say that we have left Africa and entered something else.

Not a safari at the Okavango Delta

Place: Maun

Tunes: The Cult, Velcra, Birthday Massacre

We (me and Ari) did not go to the Okavango safari as we have been on two safari's already for reasons explained before and had an easy morning instead. 

To clarify, we could not get to the right place at the right time in the morning as we could not get there on the previous evening. As we had zero chance of getting there early enough, it made no sense to try and we could take it easy.

In Maun it took a while to find a new tyre for Ari and the hotel, but we managed to do both. Locals have no sense of direction or distance and asking for directions or distances does not always (or ever) work in Africa.

Apparently my camera has also stopped working. It has served me very well so far but I think there's just too much sand and crap inside it. I have the big Canon that works but it is such a pain to unpack that it's not really for the occasional snapshot.

The Okavango safari apparently was ok with all the oohs and aahs you can expect, but based on what we were told, it was not as impressive as the crater was. So, we won the safari game with our lions.

At the hotel Ari changed his front tire and I repacked the panniers again. I also managed to fix the helmet finally to some degree. It has to last only another week and I think it will.

I should have changed my rear knobbly tire as it is showing some severe signs of wear, but the mid-day sunshine looked pretty inhospitable to be honest, so I skipped it. 

So was the food at the hotel restaurant. Rubber chicken again and I was not amused. Apparently the ones we got were the only birds that were delivered to the restaurant today, so they had no choice but to prepare them for us. I think they still had the choice of serving this shit or saying that they have no good chicken. Greedy bastards. The fish we got after sending eight portions of chicken back to the kitchen was better. Pekka went out to find another restaurant.

In the meanwhile, Barry White had arrived to play an eight hour set. Reggae seemed to be his favourite, but cheesy pop and African tunes, such as George Michael's ”Careless Whisper” were on the menu. He was auditioning for the first time to become a resident of some sort, but still he could not once remember the name of the place he was in. What a pro. To give him credit where it was due, he must have played everything he knew non-stop several times over, every time giving it his everything. How he did not collapse from exhaustion is a mystery. And everybody had a good time, apart from some motorbicyclists.

After dinner the place filled up with party people and prostitutes who came to listen to Barry. We retired with earplugs on. It will be a long day tomorrow.

There be lions!

Place: Gwenda

Tunes: CMX

Kittens playing. Deborah - no, you can't have one.

Getting a sniff.

And then wrestling. They bite too.
This cub stood still just long enough to take this picture. Look at the front paws, they are huge.

Another quiet moment with Ari.

Big jump.

Bigger cats handled under supervision.

Or sleepy cats handled without.

Something big lies just behind the corner.
And here they lie. A total of three two year old lions. Two females and one male.

No lions were harmed in taking this picture.



See, the lion is fine.

The only appropriate guide for the blind that adventurer overlanders could approve of. See the cane and the blind person walking behind.

Wake up at six for me and Ari. The rest will go at eight. We needed this time to go and see some kittens - lions and cheetahs to be precise.

The cubs were quite playful but very very different. The cheetahs were like puppies I suppose and they ran around like mad all of the time playing with anything and everything they could get their paws on. And then collapsed with exhaustion. Repeat after 30 seconds. Much fun was had. The lions were a lot different and they were unlike any domestic animal I have seen and did not seem to want to play with us that much, but they were curious and did not stop for a second. Even small cubs like that had massive paws and a very big head.
Adult cheetahs and lions were next and this was really quite something. The animals were not threatening in any way and they were also not drugged or anything. Being around people since they were babies and some rules how to “work” together is enough.

The cheetah were a bit like the biggest dogs you ever saw but also slimmer and leaner at the same time. You could see and feel that this cat was built for speed. Very elegant. The lions on the other hand were built for power. Muscle all around and you can see the power of these animals from far away. We walked for a bit in the bush with three of them but of course did not play with them as that would have been too much even for adventure motorcyclists. The lions we walked around with were a couple of years old and weighed about 80kg. A fully grown male lion can go up to 260 kg. That is some brutal power.

The whole experience was one of the highlights of this whole adventure so far. I have nothing negative to say about it and this would probably be the first time during this trip. It was a rare occasion to connect with wildlife at a very personal level. And much more manly than taking pictures of elephant’s asses from a Land Rover.

When we got back to the hotel about two-three hours late, we got some late breakfast, picked up all the stuff that people had left behind and were on our way. Immigration and customs out and in went like a breeze, but paying the road tax in Botswana was a major pain in the ass as it took absolutely forever. The ferry ride we were warned about was a piece of cake. It was nice chatting to the ferry staff who no doubt have seen a thing or two on this river.

The next little affair on the road did not start well. It had something about stop signs and arrows pointing here and there. We have not paid any attention to any of those after Sweden, so why start now? Nobody else is. In any case, apparently I passed a sign with an arrow in it from the wrong side and the policeman standing next to it was not happy. I was stopping anyway and was just going to park next to the guy.

He ushered us with the bikes to another guy who turned up to be an animal inspector. He had the power of life and death in his hands as he was looking for illegal fruit. And tsetse flies no doubt. After a short inspection and random rummaging through our shit, he decided that the reindeer antlers will be confiscated but being a reasonable man he would not open an investigation of my offence of having “animal products” in my possession.

No fucking way was he going to take the antlers that have been a part of the bike since the start. He did not listen to any reason or explanation that these things come from an animal that lives above the Arctic Circle, not in Africa. As I was almost taking them off – to break them myself – he suddenly decided that we can go. My sad face must have convinced him that I should keep them. Real men never cry unless you have to. 

These guys are trying to prevent poaching and the foot and mouth disease, not tourism. For once, reason prevailed but of course he had to show who is boss and that he has the power to do this. And what choice you have? Comply, or pay a fine and comply as encouraged by the police. In this case the police was standing next to the guy and was already a bit aggravated. 

The road from Livingstone to Maun is a piece of cake but it was too long. We would have had to press on in the dark for about three hours to reach the others, so we made the first sensible decision on this trip. It was a good call as the lodge in Gwenda we decided to retire to was excellent. We also met this big South African guy at the lodge. He was one of the staff there and had a lot of experience with motorcycles (and other things). Good times were had and many tales were told. This was good!

We got a message from the rest of the group in Maun that the safari starts at 06:30. To meet them for it would have meant a wake up at 03:00 and a ride through the night. On the road we saw so many animals already that you could open a zoo on it. At night the animals are even more active, so we responded with an equally pointless message and decided to skip the safari (like we had a real choice). Still, I would trade the safari for this morning any day.

Victoria Falls

Place: Livingstone

Tunes: The sound of a million litres of water falling down a cliff every second

The smoke that thunders.

The health and safety briefing.

The falls.

More falls.

The only way forward is down.

We managed to find a flat spot.

First you do take the rubber boat thing and then you climb. Worn out soles on your shoes are not recommended.

Nice scenery. You can only come here during the dry season.

Not a bad place for a swim.

Some damage during today's excercise was fixed with this beautiful pirate plaster.

At eight in the morning we were to have breakfast. This was the only information we had about today’s program. At the breakfast table we were told that at 10:15 we were to go somewhere and do some sightseeing of the waterfalls. Ok, no worries. Pack light and bring the big camera I have used twice on this trip before today.

The mystery tour started with loading this strange looking vehicle with all sorts of kit, but we did not ask or care about any of it. If you know where you are going it is not an adventure. Next, a safety briefing was given where we were explained that the organiser essentially takes zero responsibility of anything that might happen.

We started off by hiking on some very rocky ground to take pictures of the (very dry) waterfalls. This is where all four batteries for the big camera stopped working and no pictures with that anymore. No problems, I enjoy hauling it around. 

After this easy bit we continued to hike up and down some cliffs, some of which were quite steep. The soles of my five year old trainers have worn out quite thoroughly and this made the climbing a tiny bit challenging. Helmets and life jackets all around and cameras etc to dry bags (so much for pictures of the falls) and off we go to climb some rocks. If you fall, you go to the hospital was the theme and it was “interesting” to say the least. After the climb we jumped on to some boats and started paddling straight towards the falls. Our rowing was perfectly synchronised and we could have easily climbed up the rapids with this boat.

We ended up swimming where the water from the falls ”falls” after dropping for more than 100 meters. This is the dry season, so you can go there. The water is usually 18 meters higher than it was now. Pretty spectacular and definitely not the kind of mass tourist thing to do.

You could actually stand under the waterfall and take a shower.
The falls themselves were not as spectacular as you can see from the pictures when there's more water of course, but we heard the thunder and saw the smoke. After the main event we went back the same way, except uphill and with wet and slippery trainers. It was not a place for packet holiday goers, I can guarantee you. If you take some distance and think of doing something as special as this at home, you realise how unique experience this has been. It has been a great day and it's only the afternoon.

After this little excursion, the rest of the day consisted of mostly chilling out in the bar. Sorting out tomorrow’s program and sipping GT’s. It seems that there are no more gravel roads in front of us. Everything is tarmac. This information was from a South African motorist who just showed up at the hotel. For half of the group there was much rejoice and the other half looks disappointed. I am sure this will pass and we will think of something to make it more interesting.

The fly inspector

Place: Livingstone

Tunes: Armin van Buuren, AC/DC

We woke up from huts like this. Nice, but no aircon and it was very hot.

This was the budget option.

Lusaka traffic.

Having a break somewhere. For once, the bikes are lined up nice and tidy.

Selling shotgun shells in a butchery? Hmmm...

Jukka trying to find a more comfortable riding position.

The first and only over-the-shoulder picture I took that was any good.

As the sun was getting down, the sky looked magnificent. Now we would need a proper photographer to take a picture of it. Maybe some ND filters or a polariser...

More sky and clouds.

This was one of the longest driving days so far, more than 700 km from Bridge Camp to Livingstone.

On the road not that much happened today.

We had some near misses with cows, goats, a dog, a snake and a turtle. The snake probably did not walk out of that one. Pun intended. The traffic is easy and the locals are driving much better than we are. We get sneered at for driving like hooligans. Rightfully so.

There was this roadblock, like many police checkpoints we have seen before. We stop and this guy walks up from the booth. He looked like a pimp or a drug-dealer wearing a bright yellow vest that said ”Tsetse inspector”. The stop sign on the gate also read ”Tsetse stop”.

There have been all sorts of stops on the road for whatever reason since Syria and this looked like one of them. You had better treat the inspector/soldier/whatever with respect and co-operate with them or they will make your life difficult. This was my mindset as we stopped even if this looked something unlike anything we had seen before. 

When the inspector got closer and started to talk it became apparent that this was either a complete loonie or some kind of candid camera thing. It was so incredibly gay. So, the guy introduced himself as a Tsetse fly inspector and wanted to inspect us for flies. He had a net full of holes and proceeded to prod our bikes and the stuff strapped on with his net. This clip gives you some idea what he was like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnH5jIRD7zc

I was more than a bit surprised and stunned by this and it took a while to get my head around whatever the hell is going on here. The guy was trying to be serious but the locals nearby were laughing. I should have realised sooner that this is a complete joke and opened the gate myself, but a passer by did that for us as he saw that we did not know quite how to react to this guy. A hilarious episode now that you think about it.

We stopped quickly at a shopping centre in Lusaka to have some expensive but good lunch with proper ”I need more blood pressure” cakes that were most excellent. This is the capitol and you can find European style places at European prices, but we have no time for those. Basically, we are catching up the schedule that was messed up in Ethiopia and because of the bike repairs.

With about 200km to go we stopped to wait for it to get dark and to start raining before riding to Livingstone. Unfortunately we got here too early and quickly got bored of waiting and covered the last 200km in no time at all. Partially because of the new EU-funded road. The president of course takes credit of building the road with signs as big as apartment buildings.

We got to Livingstone in surprisingly good time and waited for the dark as Peter was scouting ahead. The darkness finally came and we passed the time by buying big big Zimbabwean notes for a couple of dollars (100 000 000 000 pounds or whatever they use over there).

The day was complete with a very nice hotel and dinner. And the usual cast of muppets serving the dinner. At least the room has aircon. I love aircon.

To Zambia

Place: Bridge Camp

Tunes: Armin vand Buuren, ATB

The road to Zambia, too early in the morning.

Pekka decided to make a career change today and now he works as a customs officer in Zambia.

Traffic in Lusaka.

The birds are getting bigger and bigger.

Darth Vader and a child.

Changing a little bit worn front tyre.

How can a tyre wear out like this?

These little guys keep the bugs away.

Today was long but not particularily difficult. We crossed the
border from from Malawi to Zambia, but the driving was again nothing too unusual.

The border crossing had the usual piss-ants harassing you and we had to pay a questionable 50 USD for a visa, which turned out to be a simple stamp on the passport. All of the officials were really slow and we almost had to drag them by force to sit on their desks and actually do something. The currency exchange guy was another silly person. First he did not know the rates he should use to change the currency, then he wanted to know what company each person worked for. He of course did not have any Zambian currency either. After some time he got some and we took all of it off him.

Another traveller there had seen him before and he got the same "no money" response we did. As we eventually got money and he did not (as we took it all), he was naturally a bit pissed off. He shouted "what kind of discriminative banking is this" and stormed away.

In Zambia things got easier and everyone’s a millionaire. The roads are good with some pot-holes and mini-pigs trying to charge you. They could actually be just piglets rather than mini-pigs but you never know. Mini-pigs are supposed to be clever but these ones were not. Still, these were good driving roads with little traffic to go fast on. Nice corners. Add good music and that’s all you need. The traffic in Zambia is ok, nothing we are not used to by now. Normal cars drive pretty neatly, but the buses go as fast as they can as usual. This is of course a major hazard but the police seems to be powerless to do anything to it.

When we got to Bridge Camp, Pasi had to change his front tyre. The knobbly tire had some smashed up studs and has become undriveable. A fast tire change and all was well. Most of us seem to have gone back to running road tires by now. I still have the TKC 80’s but the rear will have to be changed soon. I hope it will last through the last gravel road in Botswana.

The Bridge Camp lodge thing is a nice place, not full of random people as the Nkhata Bay place was. And the burgers were excellent. Unfortunately it looks like that the night will be as yesterday. Very hot and humid with plenty of bugs to keep you company. We need more of those little lizards here.