Re and I were planning to start our trip toward Victoria Falls today. We had a choice of two routes- one that was paved the entire way, and another that involved about 200 miles of gravel roads. Initially, I was planning on the paved route but had heard from many other people who had driven in Namibia how good the gravel roads were. Mistake #1 was that I listened to them.

It rained overnight and the power went out in the entire town near morning. We woke to a wet campsite and no electricity for the coffee pot at the guesthouse. We dawdled around, hoping the rain would stop but were honestly freezing our butts off. Fortunately the water heaters that fed the showers at the guesthouse still had enough hot water for both of us to shower and warm up before we packed up the bikes and started out at around 9:30. Our first stop was the gas station for a quick fill-up, but it didn't happen that way. While our bikes were being filled, two Africa Twin riders pulled in and hopped off their bikes for a chat. It turns out that one of them was Onno (1NiteOwl) and one of his friends, who were in the middle of a ride from South Africa through Botswana and Namibia and back home again. While we were chatting with them, some other bike week revelers pulled up and also wanted to chat with us. We again told our story, shook hands, posed for photos, AND declined the invitation to ride with them to Walvis Bay for bike week. Mistake #2 was not going with them.

After at least 30 minutes at the gas station, we headed north up the C34 toward Henties Bay. It was still drizzling and cold as we rode further north and eventually turned east on the C35. As we rode toward Henties Bay, the theme song to Gilligan's Island was going through my head. I kept looping on the three hour tour part. I'm not a superstitious person, but I think ignoring this “sign” was Mistake #3 for the day.

The first 10 miles or so of the C35 were nicely groomed, hard-packed dirt and sand and was easy riding. Suddenly the road surface changed to imbedded rocks covered by larger gravel and drifts of dusty sand. Our speed went from 45mph down to 30, and even to 20 on some of the more roughly corrugated sections. Maybe Mistake #4 was continuing on after Re saw one of her spare tires rolling through the desert, since the roughness of the road caused the bungee to let loose. But we persevered. With visions of broken spokes and punctured tires dancing in my head, we continued. That's when Re apparently decided to see whether the sand in Namibia tastes the same as the sand in America. We were in one of the smoother sections and were riding close to the left edge of the road at about 35mph when, in my rear view mirror, I saw Rebekah drift farther to the left and into about 4 inches of soft sand. Well, ****. Re put up a valiant fight against the forces of physics, but like all of us, she eventually lost. I could see her bike fishtailing and then saw the puff of dust and nothing more. Well, double ****. I spun my bike around and went back to see what the damage was. Re was lying face down in the sand, not moving and more concerning still, she was not swearing. She said she was okay and that everything was working but was clearly very shaken up. She spent enough years at the racetrack with me to know that the first concern is the bike, so after she got her leg out from under the bike, we assessed the damage. I figured it was better to keep her focused on something besides what just happened and sent her off to pick up the various ejecta from the bike. Her one spare tire was, once again, in the desert, along with her bike lock. The bike actually crashed well- nothing was broken, only a bent footpeg, the headlight out of adjustment, and a bent turn signal mount. The real casualty (other than Re's confidence) was her MSR Dromedary water bag, which was now crying all over the desert. Re's only complaints at this time were a bruise near her elbow on her right arm, her right pinky finger, and her right shoulder. All were working but sore.

After we repacked the bike, we continued on for maybe 10 more miles at no more than 20mph, and the road never got better. And then, we discovered that Re's tire had gone AWOL once again. Re was still looking a little upset, so I said I would go look for the tire while she took a break. I headed back from whence we came, figuring there was no chance I would actually find this tire, that it would have rolled off into the desert someplace, gone for good. It was a pleasant surprise, when about 6.5miles back, I found it laying on the shoulder of the road. At least one thing went right today. Not wanting to find a place for it in my pile of crap, I wore it like a necklace for the ride back. When I made it back to where I'd left Re, she giggled at my new jewelry. We consulted the map and realized we were only about 40 miles into this 150 mile gravel section. At this point, I started doing the math to determine how long it would take us to reach our destination, and it wasn't going to be tonight. It was at this point that Re suggested we admit defeat, put our tails between our legs, and slink back to Swakopmund. This was the best idea I had heard all day. Re knows that I do not like to backtrack, but in this situation, it was the wisest thing to do.

We retraced the nearly 90 miles back to Swakopmund, only to find that most of the guesthouses were full (it was Saturday night). We didn't want to camp again since our tent and gear were still wet, and it was still cold. Re did find a nice place for us to stay that was a little beyond our usual budget, but in light of everything that happened today, it was well worth it. The ride back was miserable for a couple of reasons: first, it was genuinely cold, and our hands were nearly numb by the end of the ride, second, we were fighting a fierce headwind for the final 40 miles of the ride, finally, it gave me plenty of time to think about Re's crash. Back on her KLX650, she's tipped over at a near standstill several times, but this was her first real crash. She seemed to be okay with it, or was at least putting on a good face, but it's a bad feeling to watch the woman you love crash in the rear view mirror. It also made me consider, why are we here, and why are we doing this? We spent the evening talking about a lot of these issues, and Re is fully committed to going on. But we did agree that we are going to have to realize the limitations of our little bikes and stick to paved roads for safety's sake.

161 miles in 7 hours. Re's bike took a nap and my speedometer cable vibrated loose.

After yesterday's misadventures, we were both anxious to get on the road, the paved one this time. After a great night of sleep under a fluffy duvet, we ate our included breakfast, and I heartily enjoyed my bacon, eggs, and toast. This was the first bacon I've had since Ohio, and I remember why I like it so much. After lowering the tire pressures for the gravel section yesterday, I aired them back up to road pressure to the entertainment of several other hotel guests. As I previously mentioned, this hotel was much nicer than our usual accommodations, and I don't think the other guests were expecting to see our kind there.



We hoped that it was a good sign that it was sunny and clear this morning, as this was the first sun we'd seen in Swakopmund, so we left. The ride started out cool, but as we headed inland, it warmed up nicely and the sun stayed with us all day. The other factor that made the day's ride so enjoyable was the absence of our nemesis: the Namibian headwind. We were able to cruise at 45mph at three quarters throttle and covered the miles quickly. Last night, Re and I carefully looked at the maps and possible routes eastward, with the new understanding that we will be confined to sealed roads. We discussed the northern and southern routes to Botswana, and eventually to Victoria Falls. The southern route would take us through the northern edge of the Kalahari and Ghanzi before heading to Maun and up to Victoria Falls. The northern route would take us through Grootfontein, up to Rundu, through the East Caprivi, and into Botswana at Chobe National Park. We decided on the northern route on the advice of several other travelers and Namibians. They stated that northern Namibia is the true Namibia. So north it was.



Our new route took us back up the B2 to Karibib, then north on the C33 through Omaruru, and then to Otjiwarongo for the night. Around lunchtime we stopped for fuel (again) and picked up yet another lunch of pies to picnic on at a nearby rest area. After our lunch of pies and carrots, we continued north. Along the ride today, we saw warthogs, the biggest baboons we've seen so far, giraffes, and some sort of curly-horned antelope. We rolled into Otjiwarongo around 5pm and soon found a very nice campground. While I set up the tent, Re headed into town and soon returned with the makings of dinner. She cooked new potatoes with onions and boerwors (the local sausages). After we finished dinner and washed up, a couple of the local cats showed up for dinner, but they were too late. We told them to come back in the morning, and maybe there would be some leftover eggs for them. The other odd featured of the campground was the flock of 50- 100 helmeted guinea fowl that pointlessly ran back and forth all evening. I wondered aloud how they would be on the braai.

I also took the opportunity to figure out our likely route to Dar es Salaam. We've been in Africa for two weeks now and need to figure out how and when we are getting to India. Zimbabwe looks most likely, not for Zimbabwe sake, but mostly because other travelers have warned us away from Zambia mostly due to the border corruption issues, road conditions, and relative expense. Ciphering done, we headed for bed.

259 miles in about 8 hours. The bikes purred along today.

It got cold overnight. Re and I both woke up in need of a warm shower. Since we only had a short ride today, we were in no particular hurry, so we made a relatively easy morning of it. Re had picked up eggs for breakfast today, so she scrambled them, and as if on cue, the local cats from last evening made an appearance. We had a fun time feeding them and a good laugh when one helped himself to what was left of our butter. Everything on the bikes was in spec except for the header bolts, which all needed slight tightening. Oil level is okay, but it needs to be changed.

The ride to Tsumeb only took about 3 ½ hours but we did fight a headwind the entire way. Today's short ride was dictated by tomorrow's long run to Rundu, and Tsumeb was chosen because, according to Loser's Planet, our guesthouse for the evening had internet. Along the way, we saw a couple of different kinds of antelope (we really need to look these up sometime), another hornbill, and wildebeest.

We arrived in Tsumeb around 1:30pm, and it was a bust. Disappointingly but unsurprisingly, the guesthouse had no internet. On the plus side, the rate to camp was lower than listed in the book. We decided to take the afternoon off and catch up on RRs and blog posts that we will upload at the local internet cafe when they open in the morning. Lunch and dinner were self-catered again from the local grocery store. We also took the opportunity to get some laundry done. We also spoke with other travelers who were staying at this guesthouse and heard of a place to stay in Chobe.

131 miles in 3 ½ hours. The rear tires are getting thin, will need to be replaced soon.

Up early this morning since I wanted to change the oil in the bikes before we hit the road. Unfortunately the wind was blowing very hard, and the sand and dust storm made the oil change no fun. As an added bonus, I trapped my finger between the wrench and the oil sump, giving myself a humongous blood blister at the tip of my left thumb, which promptly split and bled all over the place.

Maintenance done, we hit the road toward Grootfontein, and of course, fought a head wind the entire way. We stopped for lunch and fuel in Grootfontein, where we loaded up our jerrycans for the further 160 mile run to Rundu. From now on, fuel stations will be even farther apart. The ride to Rundu was what we imagined Africa to be. We didn't see another white face until we reached Rundu.



All along the road were traditional dwellings and people going about their daily business. Both Re and I could barely lift our left arms by the end of the ride- they were worn out from waving so much! The little kids, especially, seemed to be excited to see us, running toward the road and waving, ofter with both hands as we rode past. Everywhere we stopped to refuel, we drew a small crowd. The only wildlife today were hundreds of cows and goats (mostly in the road).

We finally rolled into Rundu at around 5:30. We cruised through town to find accommodations, and not seeing anything, reluctantly consulted the Lonely Planet. One recommended place was near the town center, so we headed in that direction. We turned left onto a road made entirely of 3” deep sand, and the recommended guesthouse was another 2.5km down the sand road. Fortunately, 275meters down the sand road was another guesthouse with camping. Re and I quickly decided to try here and found that in addition to camping, they had a fan bungalow for a reasonable price. Since tomorrow's ride to Katima Mulilo will be over 300 miles, our longest ride in Africa so far, we opted for the bungalow to save the time of striking camp in the morning. After paying for our room we walked back to the bikes, and it was then that I noticed Re's flat rear tire. Yay.

As our bungalow was only about 100 yards from reception, we decided to ride to the bungalow slowly and fix the flat there. As I got back on my bike, I thought I smelled burnt oil, looked down, and discovered that in my haste this morning I failed to screw in my oil dipstick all the way. After reaching the bungalow I added oil to my bike and found that it had only lost approximately 150cc's. Hopefully no damage has occurred. Note to self: double check everything. Before Re headed out for food on my bike, she helped me remove the rear wheel from her bike. I am once again glad the Symbas have center stands. We both inspected the tire for a puncture, and neither of us could find one. After she left, I partially dismounted the tire to get to the tube and immediately found the problem. Before I removed the tire, I noticed that the balance mark on the tire was no longer lined up with the valve stem, which seemed odd, because it was aligned when I installed it. Apparently the 7hp of the apocalypse was enough to spin the rear tire on the rim and put a wrinkle in the tube. I never thought I would have needed rim locks on a Symba. I got the patch kit out, glued on a patch, waited a few minutes, and put the wheel back together. I pumped the tire up to 33psi and left it sit overnight to see if the patch held. We are carrying two spare tubes if needed, but I want to save them until they're really needed.



As I picked up the tools, Re returned with dinner. So what are we having for dinner tonight, Rebekah? How about, more pies. The local grocery store had few options that could be prepared easily. At least we are eating a lot of fruit to balance out the pies (I like pies. The USA needs more pies). The best part of dinner was watching the sun set over the Kavango River and looking into Angola while we ate on the porch of our bungalow. We both enjoyed a shower before bed to remove the thick layer of dust that covered us.

210 miles in about 7 hours. Remember to tighten anything you loosen, and we had our first flat tire of the trip.

Our plan for the day was to ride east to Katima Mulilo, our final stop before the border with Botswana. If we made it all the way there today, it would be our longest ride yet in Africa at over 300 miles. As the middle of the ride transited the Bwabwata National Park, there would be a potential for no fuel for nearly 200 of those miles. One way or another it was going to be a long day, so we got up at 6 am. First order of the day was to check the status of my repair job on Re's rear tire. I was very happy to find that the tire held 32 psi overnight, so Re and I quickly reinstalled the rear wheel and then checked the other tires and lubed both chains.

Maintenance done, we had a quick breakfast on the front porch of our bungalow and enjoyed the sunrise over the Zambezi River. After showers and once again, loading up the bikes, we were on the road by 7:30. We stopped for fuel but didn't completely fill our jerrycans as there was another fuel stop about 125 miles down the road in Divundu. Our constant companion, the Namibian Headwind made another appearance this morning and fought us until lunchtime. We made it to Divundu around 11:30 am and stopped for fuel and lunch. We filled up our tanks, 9 liters in Re's jerrycan, and 5 in mine, which would hopefully get us to Katima Mulilo. The OpenStreetMap GPS maps I downloaded indicated that there was “Fuel (not all the time)” in Kongola, approximately 120 miles east of Divundu, but we didn't want to rely on the chance that they would have fuel. We were heavy. Our lunch choices were limited because Divundu seems to consist of a gas station, small grocery store, bottle shop, and bar. We had leftover droewors and “chilly bites” (dried sausages and spicy meat), half a loaf of bread, and oranges, which we supplemented with sodas and ate straddling our bikes in the shade of the grocery store. While we ate, I noticed that I was able to understand some of the signage in the store window and realized it appeared to be in Spanish. I commented on this, and Re said it must be Portuguese since we were right across the river from Angola, and Portuguese is the official language of Angola.

Leaving Divundu, we passed through an agricultural checkpoint staffed by Namibian police force members. Apparently, hoof and mouth disease is a major problem in this region of Africa, and the checkpoint was to help prevent the spread of the disease further into Namibia. While we waited for the arm to be lifted for us to pass, we once again answered many questions about our bikes and the journey. After 5 minutes or so of questions, the sole female officer (who was clearly not impressed) left her booth, walked over to the arm, and lifted it and waved for us to pass, thus ending our conversation and allowing us to ride on.



Shortly after entering the park, our eyes lit up when we saw the warning signs that told us to look our for... elephants. We spent the next several hours scanning the roadside for large, gray objects, but to no avail. We did, however, see several different types of antelope and some warthogs. The next several hours passed relatively quickly, the lack of headwind and search for pachyderms made the time fly. We had seen plenty of elephant poop on the roadside, but we began to suspect the signs were a ploy to lure tourists to the area and that the elephant poop was planted by unethical tourism officials.



But our patience was rewarded just before we left the park. In my rear view mirror, I saw Rebekah slam on the brakes and turned around to see why. It was then that she pointed out several groups of elephants gathered around the pools in a marshy area next to the road. We stopped, got out the binoculars and camera, and spent about 20 minutes watching elephants do what elephants do. Very cool. At about 4:30, we exited the park and found ourselves in Kongola, another very small village, but lo and behold, there was... a gas station with a big chalk check mark next to the word petrol on the sign out front. We had recently refueled the bikes, emptying Re's jerrycan and using 3 of the 5 liters in mine. We had enough fuel in our tanks to make it to Katima Mulilo but have learned enough to never pass up the opportunity to get fuel. We swung into the station, confirmed that they had unleaded, and got 6 liters in Re's jerrycan. I had to laugh when another attendant came rushing out of the station to see our bikes, and I noticed that he was wearing and obviously counterfeit Orange Crappy Choppers ballcap, those buffoons are everywhere! He appeared excited but a little disappointed to see that we were only riding little bikes.

The sun was beginning to set, and we raced it into Katima Mulilo, wanting to honor our pledge to never ride after dark in Africa. As we entered Katima, we encountered a veritable flood of people walking toward us. The workday must end at 6 pm, and everyone seemed to be leaving the “downtown.” I smiled as I saw everyone laughing and chatting with each other as they walked, rush hour in the East Caprivi seems much more civilized than in Ft Collins. We made it to downtown Katima at about 6:15 and the sun dipped below the horizon. Lonely Planet came through for us this time, directing us to camp at the Protea Hotel grounds, which is a very swanky hotel with camping on the side for “our kind.” By the time we registered and made our way to the campground it was well after 6:30, so we yanked the camping gear off Re's bike and she headed out in search of the local grocery store for some dinner. We hadn't seen any food stores on the way into town, and here in Africa, most of them seem to close at 7 pm, so the race was on. Fortunately for me, Re was smart enough to stop and ask a guard at the gate where to find the grocery store. He smiled and said, “I will take you there.” He said it was too difficult to explain, and she should just follow him. Since it was nearly 7 and the big stores would be closed, he took her to a small local store with a very limited selection of food options. He apologized but said it was the only thing open at this hour.

Re returned with a small bag of potatoes, milk, and (wait for it)... more pies. While I continued to set up camp, she made mashed potatoes and reheated the pies, and we had a reasonable dinner looking out at the moonlight on the Zambezi while the grunting hippos serenaded us. Tummies full and butts barking, we climbed into the tent and fell asleep to the sounds of hippos.

350 miles in almost 11 hours. Re's rear tire patch is holding air.

Since our ride to Kasane, Botswana would only be around 100 miles today, we were in no hurry to get up this morning and instead, spent some quality snuggling time. Again, the night was cool, but actually a little clammy. The climate is changing, as this is the first humidity we've experienced since South Africa. Crawling out of the tent into the sunlight, we looked down the riverbank and could see crocodiles basking on the river's edge. Not wanting to try and find our way back to the grocery store, we had a breakfast of dry muesli, fruit, and cowboy coffee. I took a quick look at the bikes while Re started on the tent. All of the vitals were good on the bikes, but the rear tires are getting very thin. I am trying to milk them as long as we can. It would be best if these rear tires last long enough that our other Michelin Gazelles could get us to India. I really don't want to have to put our locally sourced, plasticky front tires on the rear of our bikes.



The ride to the border was brief, only taking about an hour. The border crossing itself was very easy and very professional, especially on the Botswana side. The total cost for both bikes was about 31USD; that amount included road tax and 90 days of mandatory liability insurance.



Before we reached the border post on the Botswana side, we had to stop for a hoof and mouth disease control station. We both had to get off our bikes and do a little dance on a wet towel in a basin before riding our bikes through a 9” deep pool of dirty water. Maybe it will help prevent the spread of hoof and mouth disease, or maybe the guards just videotape it to laugh at later. Either way, it was our second water splash in Africa. Once the final paper was stamped, fee was paid, and gate was lifted, we rode into Botswana- our fifth country so far. We found ourselves on the A33 that is the transit road through Chobe National Park. As usual, motorcycles are not allowed in national parks in Botswana,(something about lions or leopards), but we were allowed to ride through on the public road.



We had planned on taking an organized safari tomorrow, but this ride turned into a safari all its own.



In the next two hours, we saw numerous elephants, including one group of at least twenty within 50 feet of the road's edge. We also saw zebras, baboons, giraffes, warthogs, several types of antelope, and at least ten different species of birds in all colors of the rainbow. Since we didn't refuel the bikes before entering Chobe, we both found our fuel lights blinking at us before we exited the park. I was a little nervous about stopping to refuel because we would have to shut off the engines and consequently, wouldn't be able to run away. We were climbing a hill about 5 miles before the park exit when Re's bike coughed, and mine would no longer accelerate. We were out of gas. We jumped off the bikes, grabbed the jerrycan, and quickly put some fuel in each bike, all the time looking over our shoulders for predators. I told Re she was absolutely not allowed to be calling, “here, kitty kitty,” and yet, she still did.

We made our way into Kasane and headed for the campground that another traveler had recommended to us. My moment of ignominy came as we pulled into the campground. We just cleared the security gate when I became confused about where we needed to turn, grabbed the front brake, not realizing that the driveway was made up of 3” of fine sand. Once again, the laws of physics took over. The front wheel snapped right, I tried in vain to save it, and found myself face down in the sand. With the help of the rather startled looking guard, we picked up my bike and thankfully found no damage. I'm beginning to notice a pattern: Rebekah goes down, then I go down. She's really going to have to stop crashing.

This campground was mostly frequented by the big safari trucks which would take up a whole group site each, but we were able to find a corner of one of the group sites for the night. Since it was before 2pm when we arrived, we decided to take the afternoon off and catch up on some personal maintenance. Re gave me a quick haircut, and we both showered before heading back into town for food and a trip to the ATM. Where we used to live in eastern Oregon, we had mule deer that would walk through town, but here in Kasane, they have warthogs. Riding down the main street, I came within about 6” of slapping a warthog on the ass as he lazily wandered in traffic. Later that afternoon we booked our early morning game drive and afternoon river cruise. We spent the rest of the evening doing laundry, relaxing in the pool, and cooking dinner.

90 miles in about 4 hours, with an international border crossing and lots of stopping for animals. Bikes are running fine, with the exception of a quick nap.

Have just read the lot, fantastic! Ewan n Charley eat your heart out!