Poetry - 1

I went for a walk in the woods today,

And followed a path less trodden.

Until I found myself on private property,

On the banks of a river so sodden.

I'd no wish to retake the path I'd come,

Through brambles, thorns, and holly.

So off the shoes and the socks they came,

And I waded across the river so jolly.

New Wheels and Old Stones

After a few weeks of looking at bike ads and calling insurance companies to find any who were willing to insure a non UK resident at a reasonable price I was finally able to collect my new bike. The insurance was more difficult than I had expected. A few more days with some online shopping for the extra kit I would need and I was ready to travel.

For my friends and family who worry about me as I travel on a motorbike, please note the expensive body armour I am wearing under my jacket, which also has protective padding and armour. I am a careful rider, and have also taken all reasonable precautions for my safety, other than not actually riding, and that option is just not acceptable to me.

My first destination was to visit the Ace Cafe on the outskirts of London, as by pure coincidence on the day my journey commenced, they were hosting an Adventure and Travel Bike day. Basically just a gathering of bike travellers, and though it was a bit out of my way, I felt it a worthy way to start this adventure. Of particular interest was how other people set up a bike for touring, as we all have our different ways, but I'm always keen to see the innovative ways others have found to set up their bike and what can be carried with such little space to work with. 

Whilst there were many adventure bikes there, not so many were on a trip, and the number of bikes carrying kit were few. I did glean a few ideas that I would like to use in the event my travels take me to more challenging and remote locations, such as fixing small fuel cans to the back of my pannier boxes. I am however pretty happy with my own set up at this point, especially for the fairly tame and civilized roads of Europe (i.e. bitumen roads and regular fuel stations).

From the Ace Cafe I was heading west to meet a new aquaintance at Avebury. A good friend of mine of 16 years had put me in contact with another friend she'd known for more than 8 years. Fortunately my soon to be new friend wasn't in a hurry, because I missed the turn off I needed on the motorway, and the next one was another 19 miles. I decided to go directly from the next exit rather than return on the motorway as there was a big stretch of roadworks. This soon turned out to be a bad plan, as the only map I had was using my phone, and I was now in a place with no signal. I got there eventually, but was an hour late, and my friend did have plans and could only stay another half hour.

Avebury has the remnants of 3 small groups of stones, within a large circle of standing stones, surrounded by a large ditch, and beyond this there was an avenue of standing stones leading towards the rest. Much of the village of Avebury fits within a portion of the large circle of stones.

I spent the next two nights camping behind the Barge Inn, a place known for celebrating all things alien and crop circles. The name comes from being located on the Avon and Kennet Canal. It seemed almost a little strange to be camping below the water, but I figured the canal system wouldn't work very well if it leaked too seriously. They hold a big folk music festival here every June, but by then I would be on the Isle of Man for the TT.

I wasn't done with the standing stones, and my next stop was for a smaller but much more famous collection of rocks.

Much debate exists as to why so much effort went in to moving these stones all the way from Wales to this location, and the exceptional talent and serious effort of the neolithic stone masons to dress (trim) the stones, including making bumps and hollows for the post and lintel construction method.

I did find this answer, posted randomly on facebook only a couple of weeks after my visit, rather amusing.

I then headed further south to Dorset to visit a couple of friends of mine who have done much, much more two wheeled travelling than I have done. And whilst they have had a couple more years in the saddle, it would take a lot of effort over many adventurous journeys to come close to their efforts.

Evidence of this was the collection of bikes in the shed, which with mine tucked away for the night came to a tally of 6.

 

I had by this stage realised I needed a better way of navigating than relying on my phone to resuce me after I had gotten lost, plus I would need some waterproof over pants for the inevitable riding in the rain I was bound to experience. So I had also aquired a tank bag, but had yet to get any maps, and whilst taking a not so direct scenic route from Stonehenge, I ended up again deviating from my planned path. My friends Pat and Sheonagh then furnished me with an old map book of the UK and Ireland, including some hand written notes I would later make use of. I was now much more comfortable with exploring the countryside, and if at times I wasn't entirely sure where I was, I could now keep going and the next time they decided to show the road numbers I'd be able to figured it out again.

I would still frequently misplace the roads I was trying to follow, with a new village every couple of miles, each one connected to every other nearby village, and three times the number of roads as signs telling you where they go. As I generally have no set time frame, or often even a set destination for the night as I go, getting lost and finding my way again is part of the fun.

Doppelgangers

One of the most common questions I get from people when I tell them about my extended solo travels is ... "Don't you get lonely?"

My answer is "Of course, but not as often as you might think".

During the early period of my travels I was often travelling with or visiting close friends. Nat in Indonesia, Rupert and Kelly plus many others in Tanzania / Zanzibar, Pat and Karen in Madagascar, Jess in Mozambique and visiting Mark and Kate a couple of times in South Africa.

I also made many new friends along the way, and a number of my friends from Aus have also maintained close and regular contact. I am also quite content with my own company, not for too long at a time, but going solo is not a problem for me.

So the reality is that it is quite rare that I would actually be feeling lonely such that I notice it, and almost never would it be a strong enough feeling to make me sad or melancholy. 

After visiting Mark and Kate for the second, and last time in early January, it would be a few months, and my arrival in England before I would again meet up with someone I knew before starting my travels. Towards the end of this period, the last week I spent in Sth Africa, and the first week in England I noticed I was seeing many more doppelgangers of people I knew.

You know the feeling, you see someone at a distance, before you can see the detail of their features, and it reminds you of someone. Once you get closer you realise that the resemblance is often fairly minor, but for a moment they made you think of someone you know. I would normally experience this a couple of times in a week, I guess it would depend where I was. For about a month I had been in fairly remote northern Namibia with a small group of people. However during the couple of weeks following this in the timeframe I mentioned above, in much more populated areas it was happening many times a day.

What I found a little strange at first was that the people I was being reminded of were not those closest to me, but those more in the periphery of my life. As I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that in such a long absence of seeing people I knew, my subconscious was starting to look a little harder, surely in these busy places there were people out there that I knew. Yet it would never be fooled into making a random stranger into a close friend, as I know them far too well to be deceived, but a more casual friend or work colleague, well it seemed that was another matter.

So while consciously I was not at all feeling lonely, it seemed at a subconscious level, part of me craved the company of people I knew, rather than the constant flow of strangers through my life.

I found this idea of subconscious searching to be quite an interesting concept.

Travel Shock

I have travelled to many places that are so different from anywhere I have been before, or where the living conditions are so challenging, that I have experienced a form of culture shock. I haven't been to places that have been ravaged by recent wars, or refugee camps or anything that dramatic, I have however been to many places that would be beyond the comfort zone of most people.

I was a little surprised then to find that one of the most intense feelings of travel shock came to me not in a poor and desperate village in Africa or Sth East Asia, but walking through the streets of London. After spending almost 6 months in Africa, returning to the developed world was almost like a slap in the face. 

Even though I had spent the last 3 months in the fairly well developed countries of South Africa and Namibia, they had nothing like the extravagance in shopping like Bond St, Regent St and Oxford St in the heart of wealthy London.

I felt uncomfortable walking through a large shopping centre and seeing the extent of what was on offer. Now don't get me wrong, I realise that my wealth and freedom has come from living in such a developed society, and I use many items from our modern technological world.

But seriously, so much stuff for sale is just useless shite, and the developed world needs to have a bit more regard for the profligate waste of resources.

I was back in this part of London again about 5 weeks later, and while I am still disappointed by the excess and extravagance, it seems the shock factor has work off, and it no longer made me feel so uncomfortable. I wonder if I will reach a point where I no longer notice it at all?

Cape Town & Table Mountain

My return to South Africa was to be brief, having already used my 90 day visa allowance, I would need to have returned to my country of residence (Australia), not just visit another country and come back. I was told that I would be allowed 1 week. So I planned my week in advance to maximise the time I would have, I camped at the border and entered Sth Africa from Namibia at 07:30 on the Friday morning, and my last flight out of Jo'burg departed at 22:30 on the following Thursday evening.

I really wanted to see a Super 15 rugby match while I was there and organised tickets for the local Stormers playing the Chiefs from NZ. I didn't really care greatly who won, I just wanted a good game, and I was not disappointed, 7 tries were scored and the final score of 34 v 32 to the home team meant that it was a close game right to the very finish.

I was glad I didn't drive, as the traffic was mayhem. The train to the game was easy enough, but after the game there was one train returning to the city almost 40 mins after the game, and no trains at all heading out. In Perth the would have been 3 or more trains in each direction in that time frame.

The next morning I set off for my other goal for Cape Town, to climb Table Mountain. There is a cable car, but I wanted to hike it myself. There is a good track and it wasn't difficult, but still a decent effort I was thinking. Until I met this guy ...

... who came up behind me quickly, I kept up with him for a while and chatted as we climbed to find out why he was carrying a dumbbell. In August there is a race from Green Market Square (GMS) in the centre of town, ~5km from the start of the track I was climbing and another few hundred metres lower, to the top of Table Mountain, and back to GMS. But that's only phase one, then competitors climb to the top of Lion's Head, and once again returning to the finish line in GMS. This guy said last year it took him 6hr 15 mins, and to improve his time he climbed this route twice a week with the dumbell. It was no wonder I was struggling to keep up, so I wished him good luck for this years race and slowed down again for a bit.

The view from the top of Table Mountain is stunning. The peak to the left is Lion's Head, and GMS is near the tall buildings in the centre of the city a couple of blocks below the big park. In the distance is Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was held prisoner for many years.

I spent a lot of time walking around the top of the plateau enjoying the view and looking at the Fynbos. 

And the were some Dassies (Rock Hyrax), which as I have previously mentioned are the closest living relative to elephants.

The view from the other end of Table Mountain shows Newlands rugby stadium in the foreground, and beyond that the reason why there were no outbound trains at night. This is the Cape Flats, miles and miles of townships. Not a place to go for a stroll by yourself.

The rest of what I wanted to do in the area was beyond Cape Town, so I set off along the coast south to the Cape of Good Hope. On the way I stopped at Scarborough Beach, and feeling hot and sweaty I went for a swim. After less than a minute in the water I needed to go for a run the length of the beach to warm myself up again, it was about 11 degrees.

After building the main lighthouse on top of the 300+ metre cliff at Cape Point, they needed to build a second one closer to the water, as cloud, mist and fog frequently obscured the light from on high, and ships relying on seeing the light would still run aground on the rocks below. The lower one has an incredibly powerful light and can be seen from up to 63 kilometres away.

On the way back out I saw a somewhat unique view, a family of Ostrich with windsurfers in the background.

My last destination in South Africa was the famous Stellenbosch wine region.

My advice for visiting Stellenbosch, don't do this as the last thing on the continent. I had little choice as to the timing, but would recommend visiting here early enough on a trip to stock up on the sensational wines and cheeses. I did a tour and visited four amazing wineries.

I can also recommend the Lebanese Bakery in Stellenbosch for dinner. I enjoyed it so much the first night that I went back again the next night rather than explore a new venue as would be more usual habit.

Alas after almost 6 months my time in Africa had drawn to an end, for now. I already had in mind what I would want to visit on my next trip, no idea when this would be, but I would definitely be back.

Zambezi

After leaving Etosha we headed north west towards the start of the Caprivi strip, the narrow guitar neck shaped bit of Namibia between Botswana in the south and Angola and Zambia to the north.

Jill wanted to head into Botswana and visit the Okavango Delta. We stayed one night in a camping resort on the banks of the Kavango River, Angola was just over the other side. Jill and I were both a little tired of my 'one pot wonder' camping meals we'd been on for over a week, so we hit the restaurant and ordered a big chunk of meat and vegetables, each of us struggling to finish the huge portions.

The next night we stopped at the Rainbow Camp, also on the Kavango River, but this time it was Botswana across the way. My friend Tam had suggested this would be the best spot for Jill to find a lift to Botswana as a number of overlanders came through here as well as independent travellers.

Sure enough before the night was done Jill had a berth with a dutch couple, who had stayed at the same place as us the night before, but we'd not said hello to them. The universe was giving us a second shot at making the connection, and it was the perfect solution.

That night we were entertained by the bar staff, one of whom was celebrating his 21st (though I'm sure it wasn't actually, just an excuse to get the crowd excited about spending more beer money). This involved a few renditions of 'The Springbok', which involves a dance and a story and finishes with downing a shot.

There was also some toilet humour, for the men ...

The next morning I was hanging up my towel after a shower on a line strung between two trees. In doing so I disturbed a wasp that lives in one of these trees, the first I knew of it was when it was stabbing furiously at the tip of my nose. Now I know I have a large-ish nose, but that it would be the primary attack target seemed a bit harsh. It hurt like hell too, and in slapping at the wasp I dislodged not only my sunglasses from my head, but one of the lenses from the frame. Some ice from the bar eased the pain, and I was very cautious not to disturb anything when I came back for my towel a few hours later.

With Jill on her way to Botswana I was again travelling solo, and was headed for the eastern end of the Caprivi strip. I had been invited to visit a fishing lodge run by a couple (Tony and Lara) who are friends with two of my closest friends back in Perth. With reduced access back to Sth Africa I had some time to spare. It turns out that the road in to the lodge was now closed, and I would need to park at a nearby lodge and get collected by boat. There is a huge government rice production operation next to this other lodge, so they have a road that stays open right through the flood season. It does however get a bit slippery after rain, and I'd had at least three thunderstorms pass overhead already this day. I was glad as I drove the 12km of damp clay road that my little hatchback was pretty versatile, and that I got in just ahead of another large downpour. There were a few brief moments, but nothing too wild, mainly just having to use the 'damaged' parts of the road when there was traffic coming the other way.

The same day I arrived Lara's parents (joint owners in the lodge) made it in through the flooded access road in a hilux towing a trailer full of supplies, in the failing light of dusk. This was not to Cherie's enjoyment, but Johan, a former competitive rally driver was only concerned about swamping the engine. Two days later we took the hilux back out through a series of back tracks which was the least flooded option, but still coming to the tops of my thighs. This was early February, and most likely the last vehicle in or out until late May or June when the flood subsides and returns to staying within the river banks.

We were just in time as the river rose about 70cm over the next week, slowing its rise each day as more and more of the flood plain around us went under. The lodge was now an island about 80m wide and 300 or so metres long.

The mighty Zambezi, full to the brim ...

The far bank is the trees in the distance (about 1km away), not the reeds on a sandbank in the foreground at about half that distance.

Camping anyone?

The road out of here, but only if you have an amphibious vehicle ...

Or you're stork ...

This is how we came and went ...

While I was there they had a few groups of guests. There was also some significant renovations with a full rebuild of the kitchen and restaurant. I helped with the stripping out of the old fitout, which involved knocking over an internal wall. The rebuilding was nearly done by the time I left, and it was impressive how much got done.

I want you to visualise then the manner in which food and building supplies are collected and brought to the lodge.

Take boat to adjacent lodge, collect truck, drive 20km to town. Visit at least 4, and maybe as many as 7 or 8 shops to get all the required food, drink, truck and boat fuel, building supplies, collect the mail and get more mobile phone credit. Maybe also a trip to the medical clinic for the kitchen staff to get food handling certifications. Just getting the food from the store shelf to the truck involved moving it 4 times, shelf, trolley, check out, trolley, get stopped at the door and have a security person scrutinise the docket and two trolleys worth of food, then outside to load the truck. After everything is collected, drive back to lodge, carry everything from truck to boat, making sure boat is balanced, back to Kalizo Lodge and unload from the boat, only to have to load into another truck to move it from boat dock to office, kitchen / restaurant and bar. Did I mention how good that access road was after rain?

While all this was going on, a lot of work was spent filling sandbags to stabilise the river bank. Particularly the area outside the bar which was under most threat. Meanwhile in an area that looked pretty calm and not much threat, we lost more than 150 square metres of river bank, and two trees.

And when the river is not trying to engulf you, or wash you away, you need to watch out for some of the locals.

The sunset tour boat, which one of the local crocs is said to live underneath between the pontoons ...

On the critter topic, the rising flood waters meant that more than a few animals were seeking refuge on the lodges little island, including monkeys and snakes. After one snake was clubbed to death, I made a set of snake catching tools that would enable the relocation of snakes safely, or so I hoped. The next snake seen, a little one, possibly a spitting cobra, but no way to be sure, disappeared into a hole in the ground (underneath the owners hut) while I attempted to catch it. I suspect without a positive demonstration my hand made tools will more likely be used for the safe removal of snake corpses rather than live relocations, but hopefully the tools will at least be useful.

It is a challenging life, and if you are interested in reading their blog of life on the zambezi, check out http://tacklingthezambezi.blogspot.com

That was just about it for me in Namibia, as I did all the interesting things on the way up. However I had to return to Cape Town, so still needed to drive the entire length of the country on the way back, as my hire car was not allowed through the other neighbouring countries. On the way back I checked out a large metorite ...

And in the capital Windhoek, I met a Nepalese sherpa who was cycling around the world, trying to raise awareness on social and environmental issues both in Nepal and other places he has seen in his travels. His plan 151 countries in 18 years, this is his 10th year and he is about 60% there, so doing well. He has left behind a wife and 2 children, and only gets back to Nepal every 5 years, so in the last nine years has seen them once, and goes home again in December. Interesting chap to have a chat to. He normally travels with a trailer as well, but had met some folks also heading to Angola who were taking it for him, so he would have a lighter than normal load for the next week.

On reaching the border, I was allowed back into South Africa after paying my administration fine (see my post A Funny Story for details). The receipt stamp, which counters the illegal immigrant stamp is five pages later in my passport, so it still looks like I am a dodgy vagrant .....