Hello
Between 1999 and 2002 I did a little bike trip. It went from the UK through Europe and the Middle East to Egypt and Trans-Africa, then New York to Alaska to Panama, followed by 9 months in South America. So, give or take, that was 10 years ago and this forum was in its infancy. I have my own website and created different chapters with words and images, based loosely on emails sent to friends and family. I’d like to reprint them below to share with you.

The overview page for the trip is Round the World TBSdotCom if you want a preview.

Here are a few images to give you an idea of where I went:


Me when I started


A former biker


Slumming it in Honduras


The bike is blessed


Near the end of the trip. Different bike and different hairdo...

Hope you like the stories and pictures.
Chris

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

I've read bits of your blog before. All good stuff.

Debs

ps. Are you getting itchy feet?!

__________________
‎"People who say it cannot be done shouldn't interrupt those who are doing it" George Bernard Shaw

some things never change Chris...10 years on and your still stuck in a Rut

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

Of all the pictures I have seen of people at the TDF sign yours is the best so far! Did you have hair when you did the original trip, and was the BMW the reason for losing it?
We both need to have serious words with Dazzer about his pictures or steal his camera!

__________________
'He who laughs last, was too slow to get the joke'
Never confuse the map with the journey.

Ch 1: UK, Germany, France: And He’s off: Last mail from home

A month late and many £££s over budget

Well there it is. Tomorrow at 9.21am I'm due to hop on the Eurostar at Folkestone and head south on the first leg of my Round the World motorcycle journey. (Actually it's visiting some friends in Paris and then stopping off at my parents in Germany to do a full service on the bike and try to prise a visa out of the Sudanese Embassy in Bonn.)

I'm only about a month late and many £££s over budget. I'll fill you in later on the gory details of my own ineptitude, first dealings with African bureaucracy and general frustrations with silly problems and the resulting inertia.


Travelling ages you

Later… Lenin, Trotsky, Fitzgerald and Hemingway
Am presently drinking a glass of red wine and writing this sitting outside 'La Closerie des Lilas' in Paris. This is a cafe where Lenin, Trotsky, Fitzgerald and Hemingway hung out. 'Our Ernie' (if I may call him that!?) used to sit here in the mornings and write. He rewrote 'The Sun also Rises' here. Having myself read 'A Moveable Feast', an autobiographical account of his time in Paris in the 1920s, quite a few pages of which being set just here, I feel quite honoured to be able to tap away on my Psion palmtop myself. All I need to do now is humm 'Parisian Walkways' by Phil Lynott and I will have totally lost the plot.

This morning I wandered around the Arab Quarter and visited Jim, Yves, Edith and Oscar etc. at the Pere Lachaise bone yard. There was even a rainstorm, which caused me to sing 'Riders on the Storm', but I stopped because I knew Mr M would be turning in his grave.

Mmmh, this wine does taste really good!
Anyway, I think I'm digressing slightly. As you may have gathered, I've arrived safely in Paris at Curly and Megan's yesterday, having had 3 hours sleep the night before (because I was packing until 3 in the morning - nothing like leaving everything until the last minute) and a rather uneventful journey. Considering my sleep deprivation, I was rather surprised to be so awake. Probably something to do with euphoria and adrenaline.


Too much junk

You should try it some time: Leave a month late because you and others can't get their act together and finally arrive at a friends' house in Paris to welcoming faces and good food and wine. No wonder my mood was like this.
This is being written in a Street Cafe (rather than an Internet Cafe) because I managed to connect the Psion to a local Paris Compuserve internet number. Just as well, considering the hassle and expense experienced, paying for and setting this machine up. I'd be very surprised if it works this well throughout my whole trip.

Tomorrow it's off to the Deutschland to see my parents, do a service on the bike and hopefully (!) acquire a Sudanese visa (wish me luck!). Then it's tout droit au direction du sud, with a little stop off chez mes cousins Steven et Elizabeth in Lyon.

Later still… Without a Sudanese visa
I trust you are all well and watered. After a week in Germany chez mes parents doing up the bike, you find me in Lyon visiting Cousin Steven and Elizabeth and generally enjoying the comfortable life as only the French can.


Even the drunks have class

The bike is in top shape and the new needle jets in the carbs mean that the oil companies' share prices will soon be dropping as I'm now no longer propping them up. The 800 clicks from my parent's house, via Bonn (to pick up my passport - without a Sudanese visa!) to Lyon, trundling along at 110kmh, were shall we say 'rather boring'.

Foreign policy initiatives
Oh yes, visas. I have learnt a new rule of diplomacy. When somebody asks you for a visa, you say 'yes'. Then, 6 to 8 weeks later when nothing has materialised (as you have receive no authorisation from Khartoum), you offer to give the person concerned their money back! That way you never say 'no'. Easy really. All you do is muck people about.


Rural Alps

British and American citizen's visa applications are referred to Khartoum. This may have something to do with a certain bit of American imperialist gunboat diplomacy when Tony's bedfellow Bill sent bombers to Sudan the other month. So, in some ways you can understand the Sudanese viewpoint. Anyway, 3 cheers for Tony's, Bill's and Monica's foreign policy initiatives! Mine's a Havana.

I'll have to see locally (Turkey, Syria, Jordan) what avenues there are to reach Kenya. Possibly Saudi Arabia, Yemen and by boat to Djibouti, fly over the area, on verra.

I'm sending this email from Steven's phone socket. This might be the last time my Psion works for a while. Hopefully not, but Internet cafes are also possible, so not all is lost. Hang loose for now and please write!


PS. Went mountain biking today (VTT en francais). Somebody suggested I ride a pushbike around the world. No way! Up hill is plain hard work and down hill nothing but dangerous!

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

Chris ..we told you to get the brakes serviced before you got to Tierra del Fuego.....you were lucky that sign was there to stop you

Flog rugs to foreign punters
You know all the stuff about the 'long winding road' leading to the goal etc; well I've arrived! I want to become a carpet salesman here in Istanbul! Yes it's true...I'm going to stay to flog rugs to foreign punters. Nothing like pulling the rug over their eyes or even out of their flies, or whatever! It feels so good to be sending this report from Istanbul, especially when I think that if I were still in England, the winter would be starting to set in.

The ride down from my parent's house near Duesseldorf via Bonn to pick up my passport (sans Sudanese visa) to Lyon was as boring as it was uneventful. I got 650km out of the tank, which is about 6 litres per 100km or 40 mpg in old money. This is what it should be. 3 cheers for the new needles in the carburettors!


Fishseller

Lyon was excellent as usual. Steven, Elizabeth and their friends were very laid back. I did have an adventure with the right hand HT lead falling out of the ignition coil. Before I checked properly, I had the carb apart because I thought it was defective. The bike had started and was running (albeit on 1 cylinder). So, Brighty, do you checks... fuel, spark, electrics etc before you start to dismantle the bike for 2 1/2 hours on the side of the road!

Interpol are also hot on my tail
On Tuesday, I set off for Perugia in Italy. I had some grief at a tollbooth where they wouldn't accept my credit card, even though it was acceptable in the booth next-door. I got a thing to pay at the post office. I may have forgotten to pay, so now Interpol are also hot on my tail. A couple of days later I drove via Assisi to Ancona for the ferry to Iguemenetsa in Greece.


Greek chapel

Here's Brighty's next hot tip: never arrive early for a ferry in Italy. I got there at noon for a 3.30pm boat which ended up leaving at 5.30pm, with me being the last vehicle on. I can't describe the pleasure derived from standing in the midday sun breathing in diesel fumes for 5 hours. I won't mention the nice bloke running around blowing his whistle rather loudly next to my ear.

The roads in Greece are excellent for an enduro bike. Windy tarmac, gravel, dirt and mud (more of that later!) The first day I made it to Kalambaka, site of the Meteora Monasteries. These were built on huge pinnacles of rock for protection from attackers.


Metiora

Not to worry
I thought I had a problem with the bike, with the rear bevel/ driveshaft making a slight clicking noise when you spin the back wheel slowly. I asked several BMW mechanics en route to and also in Istanbul of their opinion. All said not to worry, and one chap in Thessaloniki said it was probably caused by the fact the oil was hotter/ thinner through high outside temperatures and lots of miles per day. Let's hope there is no problem as the shaft has only done 6000 km from new.

I headed North and then East around Mt Olympus. Some top biking roads. Here follows the next lesson for all you budding overlanders:

Scenario: You're riding on tarmac, then gravel, then dirt, when ahead in a dip next to a big tree you see some mud and water. Do you
1. Stop, look and drive through slowly?
2. Ride round the side?
3. Leave your brain on the trans-Adriatic ferry and accelerate toward the water?


After the splash

You've guessed it! The answer is NOT 3! The reason for this is: The front wheel slips and the bike and rider lands in the mud. The right side of the bike is completely caked in brown cement-like mud and the rider is doing his best to look like an abominable mudman! His sense of humour may also be failing as there is fuel running out everywhere and he can't pick up the bike without removing the spare tyres strapped on the panniers.

Hermann the German
The following day I drove as far as I could up Mt Olympus. The 8-hour hike to the summit was too much after the previous day's exertions. There was too much cloud anyway! I did meet two Germans (one of whom was called Hermann) who live in Greece riding a 1940s 250 single and a 1950s 500 twin Beemers respectively.


Underwater statue

My overall view of Greece was that the roads are great for biking, the women fat and/ or ugly and everybody is German or speaks German.


The border between Europe and Asia

The border crossing into Turkey was quite hassle free, but involved lots of bits of paper. I managed to get insurance ('sigorta' in Turkish) in the first big town. It was a real adventure finding somebody who spoke English to help me. A pleasant woman helped me out and I got a year's (they couldn't do 3 weeks) third party insurance for US$10!


Blue Mosque


The drive into Istanbul was absolutely mad. Evening rush hour with cars everywhere. At times it seemed like 99.9% of the road surface was covered by a vehicle.

I've spent the last couple of days chilling, seeing the sights and doing bike stuff, including meeting up with some very pleasant Turkish bikers. Yesterday I drove to the Jordanian Consulate to apply for a visa. Totally mind-blowing. In most Western cities there is some sort of order to road travel, so a bike swerving in and out of the traffic is quite unusual. Here everything, bus, car, bike, cart, scooter, animal, beggar, pedestrian etc etc is jockeying for space. Somehow everybody gets to where they are going without too much agitation. All you have to do is assert yourself on the road. Indecision spells disaster. When in Istanbul, do as the...


Spices

Istanbul is a city of 15 million people and all are on the move all the time. Most are gracious and friendly (even the carpet salesmen!) The food is great, the Mosques a bit noisy at 5 am and fuel is the same price as the UK. About a dollar a litre. I put 42 litres (for 655km) into my 43 litre tank yesterday. Now I'm poor!


Catching dinner

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

Chapter 3. The sea rushes in

Here’s the 3rd instalment. More words and pictures can be viewed here: Round the World TBSdotCom

On the Road again
It's only been a couple of weeks since my last ramblings, but with Syria (where the internet is banned) and Jordan (an unknown internet entity) I don't know when I'll next be able to write.



“The sea rushes in and seems to stop just before my feet. Wave upon thunderous, mysterious wave. Captain Moon lurks in the background, casting his long white shadow across the black ocean. In the distance, a flicker of light. Is it a ship or maybe a lighthouse helping seafarers home, across on the other shore of the Bay of Marmaris? The pebbles rustle against one another, gossiping about the days events.”



So, I was sitting at the gate of the campsite, literally only 5 metres from the waves jingling over the pebbles. The light above me gave the moon a hand to illuminate the keyboard of my Psion. Taking a cynical view one might assume I'm doing a very bad Eric Cantona impression, but it's just the way it is. After six days, I finally escape the clutch that Istanbul had over me. On the Road again. (Isn't that the name of a song?)



I headed west and the south towards the Aegean coast, first stop Galipoli on the Dardenelles. The road along the Bay of Marmaris for about 50 clicks included some magnificent gravel and dirt. (Well it was for me, a boy wet behind the ears in the off-road riding fraternity!). A few little hamlets clung to the hillside. They reminded me of Nepal in the Himalayas. The blue salt liquidy stuff ensured I wasn’t too confused. A complete contrast to the cosmopolitan bustle that is Istanbul only 70km to the east.



The Empire's foreign policy
The World War One battlefields, cemeteries and memorials of Galipoli were sobering. What a senseless, pointless massacre. In places the opposing trenches were 8 (eight) metres apart! Barbaric. 3 cheers for the Empire's foreign policy and its “Greatest Briton”. I think not!

The detour to Troy was a mistake. Nothing to see and a naff looking imitation of a wooden horse.

While I remember... I hope I don't speak too soon, but Turkish dogs seem friendlier than Greek dogs. In the past 3 weeks not one has attempted to chase my bike or chew my leg.



After visiting the ruins of Pergamon (where my Paris Underground 'Carte Orange' ID masqueraded as a student card and got me in for free) the road passed very smelly Izmir and led to Ephesus.



Life of Brian
At 9am, the huge 24 000 people capacity amphitheatre was still empty. Then the fat, old, badly-dressed (guesses as to their nationality on a postcard) brigade arrived. They still couldn't spoil the magnificence of the place. Walking along the long cobbled, pillar lined passageways, I kept on trying to imagine what it would have been like to stroll through there 2000 years ago. The only images that came into my head were from Monty Python's 'Life of Brian'! (and I was also wearing sandals!)



All the fuel prices displayed on the roadside service stations are complete acts of fiction. All pumps charged the same price: the equivalent of US$1 per litre (whatever the exchange rate that day might be). I handed over 19 million Turkish smakeroonies for 40 litres. I dearly hope Syria is cheaper.



I left an uncrowded, naff and decidedly bad taste Oludeniz and tried to cross the mountains via a track I spotted on my O.S. map. 15km up (to a dead end and 15 clicks back down), fully loaded, over some very rocky piste. Hardly a wobble. A short while later, there was a rather large 'wobble'. More like a hopefully never to be repeated complete wipe-out.



Going up (!) hill on a smooth road round a right hand curve. The usual: lean bike, sit straight, steer out of corner and hey presto.... completely lost it. the bike ended on its left (!) side pointing down (!) hill with fuel gushing everywhere. I can only figure that the back end went right, the front left and most of the impact was taken by the left side of my pannier box. Its whole bottom is buckled. On this day I learned that hot bitumen without any gravel in it is quite slippy. Don't worry I won't forget this one in a long while! I was very lucky to be only a shaken and only the pannier had to be straightened a little. Maybe somebody was with me, keeping an eye out for me.



The very pleasant Cas campsite had people on it, whose nationality I am also forbidden to mention. All the deck chairs were taken! Nobody lying on them, just covered in their towels, while the sat at the bar and talked loudly. It's great pretending to only speak English. I met a Swiss cyclist (of the pushbike variety) who had spent the last 7 months riding from Hong Kong en route to Egypt. Mad pal, stark raving mad!



Ancient mariners
In Olympos I stayed in a tree house. Very mellow and relaxing. I even got some rock climbing in, care of a couple of Turkish climbers from Istanbul. With a top rope I climbed a sea cliff route, about Severe 4c. The highlight however, was walking up to Chimaera, to see flames burning on the hillside. There seems to be natural gas under the surface, which seeps through to the surface to burn away merrily. There were about 10 different flames ranging from a couple of inches to 2 feet high. Ancient mariners used this as a sighting beacon/ type of lighthouse long before they were invented. As I looked beyond the frames there was more light. Stars in their millions. The Milky Way formed a huge white band across the sky. I have never seen so many stars, as that night.



Yesterday I rose early in order to reach Cappadocia. The 600km were over ever changing terrain. First winding coastal road past disgusting high rise tourist monstrosities to Antalya, then north and inland up into harsh rocky pine tree strewn areas and finally 200 clicks straight on and east from Konya across endless desert savannah to Cappadocia. I did manage to talk my way out of a 11.3 million lire (US$25) speeding ticket (121 kmh in a 99 zone) The 'didn't know, no money, I'm a stupid tourist with a daft grin' trick worked, but I don't want to push my luck again.



Cappadocia is seriously different from anywhere you'll see in the world. There are fantastic rock formations where people carved whole cities into the volcanic rock. I even took the liberty to ride around them (only a bit, mind) on the bike.

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

The original Ch 4 is here: Chapter 4 The Big Trip


Wrist slapping called for
A thorough wrist slapping is called for as I haven't been in touch for a long time... A combination of no Internet access (it is illegal in Syria!), not being in the mood (stressed or relaxed) or whatever else.

Ruin in a sandstorm

My last few weeks have, in places, merged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

The Iceman

'You are welcome'. Everybody says it; on meeting, on departing, when they can't think of anything else to say, always!!!! It may, or may not, be a little irritating after a while! Possibly leading to 'anger', but more of that later too...

Shepherd

I composed this report while in Dahab on the Sinai Peninsula, while relaxing from the exploits of guiding the trusty Beemer over cr*p roads, gravel, dirt and even sand.

Quo vadis?

Pilgrimage
I've met wonderful Syrians, seen enough 'rubble' to last me a lifetime (and there's more to come in Egypt!), ridden a fair bit of piste (intentionally and accidentally), done about 10 clicks of deep sand (wow!?), been robbed of all my camera equipment, did my pilgrimage (sic) to Jerusalem (everybody else reckoned they were on one, so why not me?) and generally found the Jordanians to be a bunch of morons.


Odd shaped house

After a rather unpleasant dose of food poisoning in Cappadocia, Turkey, I headed towards Syria. Eastern Turkey definitely requires another visit... top people, great roads (except the slippy tarmac of course) and awe-inspiring views.


Wailing Wall, Jerusalem

Compared to what I'd heard, the border formalities getting into Syria were very slick. I got my first 'You are Welcome' from the matey-boy who let me out of the Syrian border compound.


Papers please

Ringo Starr
A couple of things strike you when you first set foot in Syria. The friendliness of the people and that the whole country is a cult centre. I have never seen so many pictures ranging in size from 2 x 3 cm to 20 x 30 metres of the same two blokes... one is President Assad and the other, his (dead?) son, who looks remarkably similar to Ringo Starr.


Damascus Gate, Jerusalem

I believe there is a link between a country having the status of 'International Pariah' and population being warm and helpful. I've heard similar accounts of other travellers' experiences in Libya and Iran, as those that I had in Syria.


Overlooking Old City

The Souk (market) in Allepo was something else. Melting pot is definitely the word(s). The meat market was an education in animal biology and also detailed enough to make me a vegetarian.


Bullet with Chair

During my travels in the Middle East, I've seen quite a few women veiled in black from head to toe, without even a slit to see through. I was wondering what their passport photos might look like. Probably all rather similar! A friend later told me the women like it because they can safely have an affair with another man and nobody will ever know!

My Syrian map of Syria was also different. There is a whole chunk of Turkey around Antakya that according to the map, is part of Syria, a 2km long dam does not exist, whole towns don't exist and of course there is a country to the southwest called 'Occupied Palestine'.


Fish?


Saddam, you are being watched!
From Allepo, I headed east through a dust storm and then south to the most mystical of abandoned desert cities, 'Rushafeh'. While camping out, I played with my GPS. Normally (in the UK) I would get 3 or 4 satellites giving me a signal for a cross reference. I had all 12 channels (i.e. 12 satellites) reading loud and clear. Possibly something to do with being 200 or so clicks from the Iraqi border. Saddam, you are being watched!


Petra

The ride further south involved 100 km of piste, asking Bedouins directions en route. In one place I stopped, the most stunning woman came before my eyes. The deepest of emerald eyes and sharp, but soft features. It was as if she were blind, the way she looked at me. She either had desires for me, or more likely was bemused this dirty, unshaven westerner on a filthy bike, who was trying to communicate with her husband!


Breakfast at Wadi Rum

French metro pass
Throughout Syria, my French metro pass allowed me to pretend I was a student and get in everywhere for 30 cents rather than 6 bucks. In Palmyra, I met a friendly couple, Tom from Limerick on a GS and Kerstin from NZ on an XT heading to New Zealand. Tom gave me a big hand changing both my tyres. We needed to put his 200+ kg Beemer on its centre stand, on my rim, to break the bead of the back tyre! The first thing I did upon my arrival in Damascus was to buy a compressor to pump up the tyres. The bike now sports 2 shiny, happy Bridgestone knobblies, on which I can't ride faster than 100 kmh on tarmac, as above this there is absolutely no traction!


Palmyra

Near Crac des Chevaliers, I spotted a road sign: “London to Cape Town Adventure Drive” written in English and Arabic. Was this an omen of what was to follow?

Hailstones in the desert
Heading south on the motorway to Damascus it started to rain a little. This developed into hailstones, which took great pleasure in bouncing off my crash helmet. Complete chaos followed. Cars stuck, driving this way and that; there was water up to my cylinder pots in places 4 to 6 foot waves of a muddy torrent in the central reservation. The bike did not let me down and I ended up going the wrong way up the motorway and a service road to a truck stop where I stayed the night. Early the next morning, there were a few puddles next to the road, but nothing to really hint at the previous evening's events!


Chatting with the lads

In Damascus, I didn't do a great deal, except eat ice cream and pizza and do a full service on the bike. I also got a great Roman (Turkish) bath and introduced road rage to Syria, care of a woman who was hell bent on running me and the bike into the parked cars on the side of the road. She learnt a few words of English and had a wing mirror less for her troubles.


It was...

The border crossing from Syria to Jordan via the motorway was a pain. The Jordanian customs did their best to be very unhelpful. They also insisted on stamping my Carnet de Passage even though it is not required for Jordan. It's a shame they can't read French on English, otherwise the words 'Not valid in Somalia, Libya, Myanmar, Iraq and Jordan' stamped all over it, might have given me a few problems!


Priest, Jerusalem

I then left the bike for 4 days in Amman and travelled with a pleasant Aussie named Adam to Jerusalem. There were kids everywhere, all barely out of school, all carrying guns. Big guns. All it would take would be one chappie or chappess to have a bad day and you'd have a massacre! You could feel the tension in the air. There were lots of miserable Arabs and Jews around. It occurred to us that we could not recall many wars started in the name of Hinduism or Buddhism.


Locals doing what locals do

We visited all the usual sights, but I found Mea She'arim and Yad Vashem the most thought provoking. The former is a suburb where the ultra orthodox Jews live (it looks like photos of Warsaw before circa-1942) and the latter is the Holocaust Memorial.




Upon my return to Jordan I had all my camera gear, Jack Kirouak's 'On the Road' (with 20 pages left to read!) and some other stuff stolen. To say I was unimpressed is an understatement.

I am firmly of the opinion, that if some bloke wearing a black mask, a stripy shirt and carrying a bag marked 'swag' climbed in through the Jordanian police station window, the Jordanian coppers wouldn't bat an eye lid. No procedures for it...


Directorate of Funny Walks
Trying to get a police report involved the biggest wild goose chase with a mad / deranged police captain. Backwards, forwards, this Directorate, that Directorate (incl. the D of Residancy (sic) and Border, D of Home Affairs and probably the D of Funny Walks too). So many people said there was 'no procedure', 'no possibility', 'not in their juristiction', blah, blah, blah...


Heading for Wadi Rum

I expressed my anger in surprisingly (for me) measured tones and the captain immediately insisted he was more angry than me.... It was pure, vintage Monty Python. At one point he gave me his service revolver (without the bullets, mind!) to play around with. At the end he asked me whether I'm 'happy' or not! Bizarre.

Some time later, I did meet a couple of crazy (in a very pleasant way!) Bulgarian pedal-cyclists trying to get to Cape Town on US$400! One is a filmmaker and I did an interview. I'm sure that the Bridgestone tyre sales figures will shoot up in and around Sofia in the near future. I also hear that my Sudanese visa request at their embassy in Germany had finally been refused with no reasons given.

On the way down the Kings Highway, I finally met Charlie and Siobhan en route to India via the Middle East. We had been communicating via email since England. A great night of chatting and s was had in Karak, despite the naffness of the town. I had some small adventures with a petrol pump attendant making sure that what I was getting was in fact benzin and not diesel


Fellow travellers

Petra was 'spectacular'. These people must have been totally 'Groessenwahnsinnig'. Absolutely mind blowing stuff. South from Petra I was stoned (the rock variety). You'd be surprised how fast the stone wielding morons run when you accelerate towards them. A British pushbike-cyclist even had the pleasure of rocks being chucked at him 5 times in one day alone! All I can say is 'B*stards' or possibly 'You are welcome'.

Bright of Arabia
In Wadi Rum, Bright of Arabia rode with Albert and Uli, an Austrian couple on an Indian Enfield Bullet with Sidecar into the desert and spent a great night sleeping under the stars. The sunrise stunned me with wonderful reds, oranges and greys blending together into a psychedelic haze. I didn't even have to get out of my sleeping bag.

Aqaba was a dump and I had to unsubtly express my views of him and his country to the customs git who refused to stamp my Carnet de Passage (if you get it stamped on the way in, you must get it done on the way out...). This did however encourage him to do his job and I made the ferry to Neweiba in Sinai with 5 minutes to spare.



Let's see what fun Egypt has in store...

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

The actual story is here: Chapter 5 The Big Trip



Don’t believe it...

An important day…
Dear All!
Today is an important day for 3 reasons:
1. It's my mum's birthday! Happy Birthday Mum. 39 (again?!)
2. My bike flew to Addis Ababa/ Ethiopia on Lufthansa flight LH590 yesterday.
3. I fly to Addis on Ethiopian Airlines flight something or other in precisely 15 hours.


You were warned!

At the mo, I only have one bit of advice: Don't try to ship a motor vehicle out of Egypt, or even better don't go to Egypt in the first place.


I’d rather not

Later…
Slap me around the face with a wet, preferably rancid, fish
So, Greetings Team,
A merry, prosperous and healthy New Year to you, your family and your friends. In the big scheme of things, they are all you have and you must look after them. I think you can see where this is leading....



Sphynx, Giza

My New Year's resolution is to start to take some advice for once in my life. Sorry Grant, I must have been asleep when you passed your words of wisdom on the land that borders the Med and the Red Sea. Please, please, please.... next time.... slap me around the face with a wet, preferably rancid, fish and shout clearly and repeatedly:

Do NOT enter Egypt with a motor vehicle, because if you do, the monolithic demon that is Egyptian customs will take you and do something to you that is at the opposite end of the spectrum to having the soft bits on the end of you ears nibbled by nubile angels sent by God to comfort you!

Anyway, long time-no-hear from me.... well a thorough wrist and thigh slapping is required. Egypt didn't really put me in the mood to be creative and Ethiopia's Internet access is verging on non-existent. Apart from that, I was preoccupied with riding on good dirt pistes, riding very bad corrugated and mud-infested pistes, having the bike's rear sub frame welded (in 4 places) and repairing punctures in the front tyre (8 times - please don't ask me to say nice things about my sponsor.... The wife's front wheel is now sporting a tyre from France, whose logo is a fat bloke!)


Hand luggage?


Skeletons
We all make good and bad calls in life and I have a few skeletons in my closet (to be divulged upon payment of many s), but boarding that ferry from Aqaba in Jordan to Neweiba in Sinai (presently in Egypt) counts as a major clanger.
Following is a list of the pros and cons of Egypt:


Bread man

Pros:
a. Chocolate thick shakes at the Shark Bay restaurant in Dahab, Sinai.
b. The BMW garage in Cairo who worked on my bike for free and replaced my broken starter motor. (I won't mention that they put my K&N air filter back in upside down and that rode for a hundred clicks before I noticed!)
c. The chappie at the Valley of the Kings who let me into the fourth tomb for free, even though I only had a ticket for 3 tombs.
d. The chap at the Sultan Hotel who helped me get bits to replace the hose off my left carburettor after some nice Egyptian stole the original.
e.
f.
g.
(Hint.... there were no more!)


Life goes on

The cons:
I will not recount the bad experiences, as they are too numerous to mention. If there is a Hell on Earth, then it is Egypt and if there is a Devil, then it is 'Shukri' the bloke at Cairo Customs who does the tracings of the engine and chassis numbers!


Luxor

Sinai was ruggedly beautiful, but I truthfully can't imagine why the Israelis and the Egyptians would want to break the 6th Commandment so often for this desolate place.

The Blue Hole
Lots of R and R was had in Dahab. Snorkelling at the Blue Hole with its wonderful coral and plethora of multi coloured fish.... The gaudy batiks you see in the shops aren't really gaudy; The fish really were the most un-camouflaged I have ever seen.

An interesting little event occurred while riding around the Pyramids. An Aussie friend, Adam, and I took a horse ride. Why? I really don't know! It was naff, but... on the way back to the stable, the route goes through a cemetery. As would be expected the horse speeds up, as he's on the home straight. Suddenly.... I didn't know what was going on. I was still on the horse's back, but my legs were horizontal on the ground. The horse had fallen into a tomb, landing on all 4 legs. Luckily I didn't fall in behind the horse and he didn't break a leg. We got him out eventually. When the guide asked for a ‘tip’ back at the stables, I gave him one: 'don't go in the cemetery!'


Snoozing

The loneliness of Cairo was desolate and painful. Not nice at all. All the hassle, a broken bike and hardly a kind soul to chat to. I don't recommend it. I knew I would be alone at times, but I met virtually no overlanders all the way to Cairo. (Possibly they took Grant's advice!?)


Guards

In between patches of utter desolation facing the might of the insult that is Egypt, I did meet Didi and Uli (hi Chiefs!)... 2 Germans on black XTs, whom I first met in Ephesus in Western Turkey, a long time ago. We (and Adam) had a great few days. Lots of laughs. Why didn't I ride with them all the way from Ephesus? They even got into Egypt without a carnet.


Pyramids at Giza

The chance to appear in an Egyptian movie
I also gave up the chance to appear in an Egyptian movie. Some weirdo of western extraction was touting in the hotel. My question, as to which line of business he was in, fazed him somewhat. 'International marketing'... Yeh, right!



Just to cheer myself up I went to the Sudan Embassy to check the progress of my visa application. (Having been ignored in London and refused in Bonn...) After waiting an age, I talked to bloke who couldn't find my application. The result of 3 hours toil: 'Come back on Monday at 10am to see the Consul General, who might know where the application is.' (Editor's note: He didn't!!!)


Nile cruise

Flying became the only option. The bike wouldn't fit into through an A320 Airbus of Egypt Air or a Boeing 757 of Ethiopian Airlines cargo door. Only Lufthansa's A300 to Addis Ababa had a door big enough.


Luxor

No traffic violations
To clear customs (which took 5 days!) you have to get a 'no traffic violations' confirmation from the traffic police. I violated at least 4 rules to get the last 300 metres to the office.... u-turn across the central reservation of a dual carriageway, ride over a railwayline, drive the wrong way up a one way street and park in a no parking zone... all under the watchful eye of 10 'busy' police officers.


Skipper

Depletion of the rain forest
When not spending time at the customs/ airport, I decided to have a productive morning extending my visa. So many people, pushing so many pieces of paper, achieving so little. Hundreds of them and that was just the passport section. I counted that my passport went through 28 pairs of hands. It is my firm belief that Egypt is solely responsible for the hole in the ozone layer with its generation of hot air and also for the depletion of the rain forest, with its devouring of bits of paper. Unglaublich!!


Impounded cars... never to be released

Shipping wasn't an option as the routing from Alexandria takes too long and Suez is in the clutches of Ahmed the Spiv, so the bike eventually went for $580 ($350 freight, $230 for customs!!… of this 230 smackers I had receipts for 50… the other 180 for bribes) on Lufthansa and me for $430 on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa.


On the Nile

A special thanks must go to Messrs. Van Morrison, Jimmy Barnes and John Coltrane, as well as, the entire soundtrack of Easyrider for getting me through the nightmare. Never forget, there is a soul out there, but not in Egypt.

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

CH6: Helga: German and functional

Original words and images are here: http://www.thebrightstuff.com/ch6.htm



'Zis iz ze real Afrika'
The landscape of Ethiopia from the air looks like the design of camouflage fatigues, brown and dark yellow, interspersed with black and greens. It was, figuratively and literally, a breath of fresh air. The scenery is superb. So varied... arid high plateau to alpine pastures to rolling countryside to jagged cliffs. At night millions of stars as there is no pollution in the air.


It gets hot in Africa


Ringo Starr?

To coin a phrase over-used in the past: 'Zis iz ze real Afrika'. (Hi Curly!) The 'you you you' takes a bit of getting used to. To the western ear it sound rather aggressive. It is rather aggressive! People here, no matter how friendly they appear are only associating with you, because they want to share your wealth. I met nobody who was helpful, who didn't want money.


Child eyeing up bike


Guard at Lalibella

I took a day to get the wife out of Ethiopian customs. I paid a grand total of 8.70 Birr (US$1) to the Ethiopian Treasury. A slight contrast to Egypt...


Nun praying

In places, the road from Addis Ababa to Bahir Dar was, shall we say, rather poor. The rear sub frame decided to break for the first (of 4) time. I found a man who did some rather dubious welding. The sparks from the welding kit and the angle grinder worried me. Something to do with 30 litres of fuel in the tank being in rather close proximity. Not that it wouldn't have made a good story for the diary!


Smiling kids

The roads made it all worthwhile. 'It' being the stress in the UK and Egypt. The ultimate... speeding along at 50 or 60 km/h over gravel piste with the biggest dust cloud behind and nothing but friendly faces and great, in places, breath-taking scenery ahead.


Intrigued locals

In Bahir Dar I visited some monasteries on islands in the middle of Lake Tana. The lake and the scenery are tranquil. Everywhere birds of all sizes and colours. In the morning there were ten pelicans swimming close to the shore in front of my tent.


Pretty women


St George's Church, Lallibela

Youyouyou
The road from Bahir Dar eastwards is called the Chinese Road. A great piste: long straight, flat, niccccccce... 3400 metres above sea level, the roadside littered with abandoned tanks and rocket launchers from past happy Ethiopian get-togethers. Avoiding the ‘youyouyou’ types and beggars was difficult... some others were more friendly. There are absolutely no western tourists here. Wars (presently with Eritrea) tend to make your average punter run a mile. The only evidence of the conflict that I witnessed, apart from the biased anti Eritrean rhetoric in the papers, was the many army trucks and a few low loaders carrying large covered objects, the silhouettes of which looked remarkably similar to tanks.


On the road


Views


The road to Lalibela was out of this world. Great piste through remarkable terrain. It wasn't really my scene... 'The second Jerusalem' etc etc. So, what's wrong with the first one?

Threshing corn


Tank from a previous conflict

I learnt many things on my travels around Ethiopia's roads. Trees disguised as people, trees disguised as donkeys, as trucks, as camels, as anything... Particular care should be taken with suicidal death-wish donkeys and gormless goats.

Bridge


Chinese made road

Golden Boy
I can now change a front tyre blindfold. Of the 6 or so times I did it, once was even in the dark (on Christmas Eve!). I put on the well-known brand 'Golden Boy' to get me to Kenya where I could put on a decent Michelin. The back Bridgestone is holding up OK, but you should never say never, but I will never put a Bridgestone on the front again! It lasted 3000km and was beginning to disintegrate from the inside. This caused the punctures.


Another puncture


More views

Lake Langano was excellent. Very relaxing, lots of ing, fooding and chilling. I spent the time hanging out with Guy and Marlene from Belgium, travelling RTW on a R1100GS. We debated a name for my bike. I suggested 'Janice' (as in Joplin: too nice a name!?), they suggested 'Helga' (German and functional...). An Ethiopian policeman said that BMW stood for 'be my wife'.... so the bike is now called 'wife' or 'wifey' or whatever.


Monastery on lake Tana


Blue Nile Falls

At the lake there were also conference delegates discussing solutions for the AIDS problem in Ethiopia. Our suggestions were quite straightforward, but cannot be printed here. One delegate also had a puncture on his moped. He thought it perfectly reasonable that we should repair it for him as he was, he told us, a high government official. My straightforward thought (also a cure to the AIDS problem) to this demand also remains unprinted. He probably took the bus home.


Monk taking my picture...


Monk

The border crossing to Kenya took 40 minutes. Half an hour to get out of Ethiopia and 10 minutes (of which, 5 were swapping pleasantries with the customs and immigration officers) to get into Kenya. Why isn't it always this easy?


Another monk

The 'adventures' of the road from Moyale to Isiolo and the rest of Kenya follow next.

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

Original words and images here: Chapter 7 The Big Trip

Ch 7 Life is Sheep: Kenya and Tanzania

Baron Brighty von Blixen…
I hope things are well with you all. Here the adventures are seemingly over; East and Southern Africa (south of Mount Kenya, that is) should be relatively easy. I, of course, still manage to add a little spice to things....


Samburu biker?

I'm presently reading Robert M Pirsig's 'Zen and the Art if Motorcycle Maintenance.' I tried it a few years ago and it was very hard going, mainly because I wasn't sure what planet RMP was from. Now it is much clearer.


Mud

The more I ride the wife, the more I'm impressed. I hope, I'm not speaking too soon, but with all the abuse I'm putting her through, she just keeps on truckin' (Editor's Note: Was he speaking too soon!). Babe, we've still got a long way to go though.

The boys who got me through the mud

Before moving onto the report, more ramblings... Turgut, a Turkish friend from Istanbul, wants to do a cartoon of my adventure... In the mean time, here's a plot for an, I believe, blockbuster film:


Puncture repairs

I star as myself, a Basil Fawlty/ Victor Meldrew type character, dressed as Baron von Blixen in a pizza deliverer's uniform, in a new vastly improved version of 'Out of Africa', to be called 'Out of Egypt'. The final scene sees me riding into the sunset with a huge dust cloud behind... Shouting "I'm outta here' and 'Zis iz ze real Afrika'. The curtain falls and the audience is left with a rap of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries' and Steppenwolf's 'Born to be Wild'. What do you think???


Equator

Anyway...


Nice going down, but bad hangovers and gas

She is now a 'collector's item'

The 'road' from the Ethiopian border at Moyale to Isiolo (about 50 clicks north of Mount Kenya) can be described as 'challenging'. It took me 5 days to ride 500km. After the first day, I spent the next one in a hamlet called Marsabit, reassembling the wife. She is now a 'collector's item'... bits fall off and I collect them. The 'nice' corrugations caused my sub frame to snap again, the bashplate to fall off, the spotlight on my crash bars to fall off, I stuck a hole in the right-hand rocker cover, causing a little bit of pollution involving engine oil to spill onto the road (3 cheers for metal cement - kindly supplied by a German couple in an Iveco truck) etc etc. After dropping the bike for the 5th time in rather large bolder strewn ruts (the wide Boxer engine and inadequate rubber, as well as my tiredness didn't help matters) meant that I was not the happiest of bunnies.


Milenium Eve service

Then (not the same day!)... 4 hours to travel 2 km through some top mud. With 2 local lads pushing and stopping every 10 or so metres to remove the cement-like clay/ mud that was jamming both wheels (they build houses from it here!!!!) from the wheel arches. I know what the smell of burning asbestos (the clutch) is like.


Bright Future

African Nativity Play

This, by the way, was Christmas Eve and as fate would have it, I ended up at a Catholic mission station in Laisamis, where they did an excellent welding job on the frame and I saw an African Nativity Play with two hundred locals in their best dress and tribal costumes with simulatious translations from Italian to English to Kiswahili to Samburu as well as a satellite telephone linkup with a Church in Bari, Italy! Not bad really. Christmas Day was spent on the road and in the evening in Isiolo repairing a puncture and talking to a French rose-seller/ drug-dealer from Ibiza.

Boy and cart

The few days up to New Year's were spent sorting out rubber, servicing the wife and chilling. I got lots of help from Rick of Rick's Bikes and Vic Preston's with repairs and sub-frame strengthening. Thanks guys.

New Year's at Upper Hill Campsite and in a dubious nightclub in Nairobbery was a bit of a non-event, but hey, I could have been at the Millennium Dome in Greenwich!

Plank woman

Life is cheap

People say about Africa 'Life is cheap'. Slightly adapted, if you say it with a German accent: 'Life is sheep', or possible 'death is sheep' or whatever... In the last report I spoke of gormless goats and docile donkies. I didn't mention suicidal sheep. The problem with sheep is that they have absolutely no brain whatsoever and are quite large, but still very mobile. Goats are small (ish) and if you hit one, it's probably like driving over a pothole. Donkeys tend to be quite immobile and are unlikely to be able to do a swift u-turn and try to take you with them on their death mission.


Hair braiding

You've guessed it... I belted a sheep while doing about 80km/h, high-sided it and did a bungyless bungy jump 20 metres down the road and the wife slid upside down for about 15 metres. Luckily there were no handy cars, trees, walls to cause my deceleration. The sheep was as dead as a 'did parrot'. As well as shock, my only injury was where my Psion (now broken) palmtop computer buried itself into my left hip. I was wearing the full gear with Kevlar reinforced cordura clothing and army boots and a good helmet. If you see any idiots in just jeans and a tee shirt, please tell them my story!

I was very lucky to be travelling with Dirk, Kiki and Rocca from Germany in an Unimog. They appeared on the scene and were my saviours. Rick and Vic in Nairobi checked the bike out and did necessary (very minor) repairs. With the cosmetic scaring, the second hand value of the wife is now about the US$1100/750 squids declared on the Carnet de Passage. As she's not for sale, who cares anyway. So children: If you want to collide with a sheep, do it in at least a 10 ton truck and not on a motorcycle!


Grafitti

Ted Simon suggested that if things were going well, you could always run out of fuel deliberately. Things were going well, but I recon my sheep stunt was taking this train of thought a little too far!


Boys having fun

Protect you family, use a condom

I saw a couple of amusing signs in Kenya:
'Protect you family, use a condom' and another 'Beware: workers working on the road'...

After my little adventure avec le mouton and generally realising how low in the pecking order I come in the minds of the crazed Kenyan demons that drive matatus (minibuses) and buses, I decided to increase my life expectancy dramatically by leaving Kenya post haste.

The border crossing from Kenya to Tanzania was as uneventful as the crossing from Ethiopia. As it was a public holiday, the Kenyan customs woman wanted some 'overtime money'. I told her I had none (as I had genuinely spent the last of it on fuel) and she let me off!


Too fast, rain, corner, bridge, driver and co-driver dead...

After passing through Arusha the excellent tar sealed road led to the nicest piste (since the last time I had a nice piste in Ethiopia) to Karatu where I managed to hitch a lift with a very pleasant couple from Holland called Maik and Maaike, in their rented Landcruiser into Ngorogoro Crater. Many nelliefants, hippipottimice, simbas at a kill, a mum and baby rhino and the usual zebras, flamingos, wildebeest etc etc were seen. A top day out, particularly as I now (since my robbery in Jordan) only have a 35-135 lense and so could enjoy the views for what they were without constantly trying to take photos.


Kili

The Tanzanians seem to be better drivers than the Kenyans or maybe it has something to do with the police actually doing their job. There were police every 10 or so km on the road to Dar es Salaam. They generally seem to be more relaxed than the Kenyans. It is still, however, a constant pain to have to get the price of everything down from 10 times the market rate to something within the realms of credibility.

Golden Shower

In Moshi I camped in the garden of the 'Golden Shower' restaurant and had a great view if Mt Kilimanjaro from the tent door in the morning. I am slowly getting used to rising (on travel days) at dawn (6am), because if you're only on the move at ten it's an absolute killer. Being in bed my ten pm helps here too!


Dawn on ex golf course of Lawns Hotel

In Lushoto, a former German colonial hill station, I stayed (or rather camped) on the ex-golf course at the Lawn's Hotel, allegedly the oldest hotel in Tanzania. On the petrol generator powered satellite TV, I watched Arsenal vs. Sunderland and also the South African version of CNN/BBC News24. The presenter was having a hard time as his producers were pulling a few stunts. He clearly, on prime time TV, mouthed the well know 4-letter f-word. The next night he was still at work!

Carter's Place

That night, I felt very safe, or maybe not. The hotel filled with 2 MPs and a Government Minister, plus flunkies and guards. Guns everywhere. They had been ceremoniously opening a dirt track, errrr sorry, I mean ‘road’, and had many of the traits of western politicians: lots of wind and naff jokes. For the first time in 4 months I walked more than 10 km, to a viewpoint called ‘Carter's Place’. Mr Carter was apparently a Peace Corp volunteer who stayed and went hang gliding (and book writing) from a cliff edge overlooking the Massai plain 1000 metres below. He tried to befriend a hawk (?) to teach him where the thermals were. Neither Carter, nor the hawk, were there to verify this story.


Fish market, Dar es Salaam
The 350km on excellent tar to Dar es Salaam were easily covered. At the ferry across the estuary I nearly asked somebody what altitude we were at (only kidding!). Dar es Salaam has changed a lot in the past 12 years when I was last here. To the better, I think.


African sunset

Africa House Hotel

Zansibar was also negatively different in some ways and in many others timelessly pleasant, enchanting and intriguing. Mass tourism has arrived and with it the money-berserk touts, sellers and drug dealers. Drinking an ice cold Kilimanjaro at sunset at the Africa House Hotel made the trip there worthwhile. Before I left England, I visited a creative writing course, at which I wrote a Hemingwayesque short story set just here at the Africa House. I think I described it well, but I'm not sure, as the only copy I had with me, was on the hard disk of the Psion, which is, as I said, kaputtshino.


Man admiring sunset

As an epilogue to this little ditty, I think it's quite useful to make a synopsis of the journey so far and where the road is leading.

So, being the teacher I am here are my marks out of 10 for each country visited ref. bikeability and friendliness of people.

Greece: 7 and 7, Turkey: 8 and 8, Syria: 8 and 10, Jordan: 8 and 5, Israel ??? (I was there sans moto) and 4, Sinai: 8 and 7, Egypt (the rest): 5 and 0, Ethiopia: 9 and 7, Kenya: 6 and 6, Tanzania: 8 and 7.

The route from Dar es Salaam: I have 2 options I think: either Malawi, Mozambique, southern coast of RSA to Cape Town (pick up some things left there by my parents) and then north again to Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe and back to Cape Town OR Malawi and the traditional route trough Zim, Bots, Nam and RSA to Cape Town. Any suggestions?

Berlitz

After Cape Town: After my little adventures with bureaucracy and the pleasant, helpful, kind-hearted people in of Egypt, I ain't touching India with a bargepole, well at least, I have no intention of shipping into or out of there. Also cash (or lack of it) means all the shipping connections to India to Australia to the Americas etc etc are out of the question. I can however do one more move and this is very likely to be either to S America and ride north or N America and head south. If I can achieve London to Cape Town and Alaska to Argentina (or vice versa), I recon that would be pretty good. I have heard from everybody how wonderful Latin America and its people are; I'll have to check it out myself. Where's the Berlitz Spanish book?

I won't be writing for a while as Malawi (and Mozambique) are emailially challenged, but I will be in touch when the facilities are there and the rate per hour is affordable.

Hang loose and rubber side down, shiny side up.... as the sheep wouldn't say.

__________________

Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

Ch 8 : 'Go West' or 'Take The Weather With You'

Still no pictures of plates of food. Sorry...

Original pictures and words: Chapter 8 The Big Trip

Stardate 21st Century
'Captain's Log, The Namib, Stardate 21st Century, Commander Bright speaking.'
I would like to thank the Pet Shop Boys and Crowded House for allowing me to use their song titles as the heading for this rip roaring instalment of the lesser life of the even less great Brighty.

There is a disappointment in store for all those who are expecting more crashes, dead sheep, collectable motorbikes, run-ins with bureaucracy etc etc. The only difference between now and a month ago is that I'm older, wiser, more good looking and that the wife has 6000km or so more on the odometer. We've driven from steamy Dar es Salaam, on the coast of Tanzania to wet Malawi, transited wet Mozambique, visited wet Zimbabwe, crossed wet Botswana and arrived in -so far, touch wood- not as wet Namibia.


Easy Rider?

Hurricane Eline
Yep, it's the rainy season. Not just any old rainy season though. Apparently the wettest one in 50 years. Great if you're in bed with a woman, but not if you're on a bike (called 'wife'?!) or fighting in the jungle either for that matter. The weather made my indecision about my further route seem positively decisive. I thought I was just outrunning a few rain clouds by heading west. It was only 10 days later that I watched the news and saw what havoc Hurricane (or was it ‘Tropical Cyclone’?) Eline has been causing.


Warning

The wife has been running like a dream. The terrain has been very changeable. Cold, warm, hot, sun, cloud, rain, flat, straight, curves, good roads (Tanzania and Zimbabwe), potholes, dirt, corrugations (Malawi and Mozambique) and the most boring straight trafficless roads ever (Botswana).

Just didn't stop at his road block

I must confess one thing. Please don't tell another soul though! I nearly ran over a 6-inch lizard the other day, but I think I've learnt my lesson. Lizards are nice creatures and they eat mosquitoes. I also managed not to collide with a Tanzanian policeman who wanted to stop me for speeding (he had neither car, nor gun, nor radio and I didn't fancy trying to stop to talk/ bribe my way out of it, so I just didn't stop at his road block!) and a bull elephant and two giraffes in Botswana, who are rather nice creatures too, and also much bigger than me and the wife combined.


Wildlife

The last night in Dar es Salaam was spent drinking mucho s with Greg Frazier. For an old bloke, he can drink like a fish. Being younger myself, the 2 days and 1200km to the border with Malawi were quite difficult. At the frontier I got the first taste of what was to come. The engine went from air-cooled to water-cooled and oil temperature fell from 110 to 80 degrees C faster than you could say 'Give Me Money' (as they say in this part of the world...).... The heavens opened.

Gay Darkies

In Malawi, the road up to Livingstonia, a quaint old Scottish church mission station was, shall we say, interesting. I drove up (and down again!) without luggage in first gear nearly all the way. Huge inclines, vicious switchbacks, monstrous mud and excellent views. In the museum there was a lot of old junk and also a gramophone record player with a record by the, don't laugh, 'Gay Darkies'! Three cheers for political incorrectness, that's what I say.


More...

At Nkhata Bay I spent a week admiring the dramatic sunsets over Lake Malawi. Not! Two reasons... firstly the Bay faces east and secondly, it rained every day.

Before meeting up with Rob and Mike at Vic Falls again, I must admit I was getting very lonely. I didn't expect to be surrounded by millions daily, but having to fend off Africans whose sole aim seems to be to share my wealth with them (by menace, begging or inept trickery) or try to talk to largely Antipodeans and British kiddies on overland trucks is not really the be all and end all. Where are the other overlanders?


The News

If you fancy a flutter, you might like to invest in the Malawian economy. The bank base rate is 47% and for 6-month deposit you'll get a fat 33%. Well at least they are publishing their rates.

Threw the remote control over the fence

Somebody described Blantyre (the largest town in southern Malawi) as being like Milton Keynes in England. Wrong, Milton Keynes is better! The local hotspot for the expats is, wait for it...the overlanders' campsite, right next to the bus stand, where they listen to loud naff music all night. We won't mention the fact that sleep wasn't possible. By 4 am, I was p*ssed off enough to turn the loud TV off (there wasn't anybody around and I had been trying to sleep in my tent since midnight!) and threw the remote control over the razor wire fence into the bus park. B*stards.

Oh yes, there are no cinemas in the whole of Malawi! All in all, Malawi was 'nice' (what a poor adjective!) but probably better in the dry season.


Another sunset on the s...

The matey at Mozambiquan immigration was a star. He insisted that I give him US$5 to give me an entry stamp into my passport (I had already paid for the visa in Blantyre) and when I questioned this, he asked if I had a problem and confiscated my passport! Needless to say the 5 greenbacks made the passport reappear with the required stamp. I managed to fob off the blokie who wanted to flog me road insurance, short change the customs officer and drove round a barrier without paying the bridge toll over the Zambezi river at Tete, so in the big scheme of things I probably broke even anyway.

The transit route through the 'Tete Corridor' was different in a few ways. The people I did communicate with seemed friendly. The signs in Portuguese were photogenic and the size and location of the 'pot holes' took a while to work out. Huge things (now filled in, of course), the size of cars (or even tanks!), on the crests of hills and around blind corners. Normally potholes are on straight flat roads where vehicles are travelling at speed and their shock absorbers can do most damage. These ones were in the best ambush spots from the time of the recently finished civil war in this former Portuguese colony. Their other colony in Africa was Angola; also very safe...

Oh no, it's Mrs Hazeldine

Oh no, it's Mrs Hazeldine at Jacaranda House, she's got a shot gun and I'm wearing 7 raincoats (if you don't know what I'm talking about, read Tom Sharpe's 'Riotous Assembly'), ahhhhhhhhh.... Oh sorry, it must have been a dream.... the Larium...

The hostel in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe could have been just the Jacaranda House that Mr S describes. A very pleasant place too. Apart from this, dial-a-pizzas and shops to buy things in, Harare is a nasty crime-infested hole where everybody has to hide behind high walls topped with razor wire. Three cheers for Bob's kleptocracy... Not!

Mutare and Chimanimani in the Eastern Highlands, bordering Mozambique couldn't have been more of a contrast. Dramatic mountain scenery, friendly faces and surprise, surprise, it only rained twice in the 3 days I was there (including 2 days walking and camping in caves in the mountains.) There were storms around, but I did have an enjoyable time going the opposite direction to the clouds. Hence my movements were rather erratic. This has been the only exercise, apart from the routine 10km daily slog round Egyptian customs in Cairo, in the past 5 months, and I felt it.

Great driving roads: As Bob Magobe hadn’t paid his petrol bills there were no buses or trucks on the road. I had the whole thing to myself.

Great Bulawayo Municipal Campsite Lake

As I was suffering from 'rubble-withdrawal-reaction-syndrome', the visit to the Great Zimbabwe Ruins was a good tonic (except the Bob-trained army of klepto-baboons), but camping in the lake known as the ‘Great Bulawayo Municipal Campsite Lake' was not endearing to my mood. My thermorest sleeping mat saved the night and kept me dry(ish) from the ankle deep water that covered every square cm of campground.

The Victoria Falls were majestic from both the Zambian and Zimbabwean sides. Saving US$10 by climbing over the fence on the Zim side at midnight and seeing the permanent rainbow under a full moon made it even better - I felt absolutely no guilt doing this, as the dix dolleros would only have gone into the budget for the Zim army to protect Bob's private mining interests in the Congo. And anyway, stolen fruits always taste better.

Smoke that Thunders

When I was here in 1992 there was a drought and barely a trickle dripped over the cliffs. This time it was definitely a 100% humidity job. Water everywhere. Truly magic. Mosi-O-Tunya, the Smoke that Thunders; and was it loud!


Victoria Falls

After some R and R, Rob and Mike, 2 pommies in a Landcruiser (whom I knew from England and had bumped into in Addis Ababa and Nairobbery) eventually arrived. At the exclusive Vic Falls Hotel we had to pay for the drinks up front on account of our motley appearance!

Botswanan highlights include having the whole of the Nxai Pans Game Park to ourselves (and even spotting 2 cheetahs) and taking a flight over the Okavango Delta. The pilot flew incredibly low and even impressed us with tight aerobatic turns over a herd of elephants. Top stuff!

I'll leave you today with a verbatim version of a diary entry. I don't normally do this, but I couldn't have written this better myself... (Hang on, I did write this myself!?....)

"It's a Tuesday in February, I'm sitting in room 2, it's 2.30pm and it's Year 9 French. Outside it's cold, dark, wet, miserable (like every day in Feb in nameless city in central England). The kids are playing up and I'm about to lose my rag."


Splash and dash


Actually, I'm in Botswana, near Maun, it's dry (quel surprise!), hot and I'm 15 metres off the ground in the cleft of 2 branches of a centuries old baobab tree at Baine's Baobabs in Nxai Pans Park. The s are being cooled by the wet cotton sock over the can in a bucket of cold water technique (thanks Curly!): Rob’s fridge is temporarily broken. My view pans the Pan (sorry about the pun, or is it pan!) 5 Oryx gallop gracefully across the six inch deep steamy water and high cirrus clouds cast intricate shadows towards the distant horizon. Why am I here? I could be in Blighty...'

.... Answers on a postcard please. I'm off for an ice cold Windhoek lager....

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Brighty's website: TheBrightStuffDotCom

CURRENT RR WITH REGULAR UPDATES: The Wife Takes on Chlamydia: A South American Retrospective

You got anymore long trips planned chris ?

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Did some trips.
Rode some bikes.
Fix them for a living.
Can't say anymore.