The World is a better place than you think it is, and other stories

 

With families and friends breathing a sigh of relief, all three of us are back to our day jobs. Sitting at a desk, chasing an x-ray and processing another request from an over-zealous healthcare professional. Walking home from the swimming pool yesterday, for the first time since I came back, I had a pang of desire to go back. I didn’t want to go to work the next day. I wanted to wake up before the sun rose, eager in anticipation for the unknown and keen to see the world waking up around, cycling out of a secluded camping spot. It’s not going to happen though and, in the meantime, I figure its best to try and learn and take pleasure from what we have done. I hope you enjoy my final blog, some reflections from the past few months on the road.

The World is a better place than you think it is

Perhaps we were lucky but, after 4 months on the road, the truth is that all we have met is incredible kindness, generosity and trust. These acts of kindness have almost entirely come from people that we had never met before that moment. Whether it was a bed for the night, a cold drink on a hot day or even a dinner out on the town, they were gift which people went out of their way to give. Gifts that we could only give our thanks and inadequate offers of trying to returning the favour in time. Sadly, we will probably not meet many of these kind people again, I believe however that in these altruistic acts there was an understanding that the binding light of humanity had been passed on. That within their act of kindness, they have handed on the baton and it is now our duty to pass that forward – something I will certainly try my best to do in the future.

It would be unfair to make a comment only on the people we met along the way without also thanking the 105 people who have so far sponsored us. When we first set out on our challenge, £3500 seemed an inconceivable amount. It would require many of our friends and family to come together to raise the amount needed to build a water pump for a village. As the journey progressed our resolve to reach this goal was strengthened by the fact that we often cycled for days relying only on these village pumps. The value that they brought to the local community was obvious, it didn’t need a randomized trial or cost-effectiveness analysis. It was difficult for us to imagine life without them. In each village the pump was a constant hive of activity, families filled water buts and tracked in and out on the radiating paths. Who knows how far these paths went into the bush.   

The response to our fundraising for WaterAid have had has been incredible and we want thank all of our family and friends who have donated. We appreciate that in the current economic climate money is not easy to come by and many of you will have made a small sacrifice. I hope that you can also feel part of the wheel of generosity that we feel the trip has enlightened for us. The kindness you have shown in your donations is certainly equal to that of our new-found friends on the road, and we hope to repay that in some way in the future.   

During one of our long, hot afternoons on the bike Rick reminded me of Alistair Humphreys concluding comments from his epic 4 years cycle around the World: "The World is a lot better place than you think it is". In four short months of cycling, we couldn't agree more. 

Friends we made along the way...

There is no such thing as an easy days cycling/Never expect anything

As we cycled for four months, it would be remiss of me not to have learnt something about cycling. After many conversations during idle hours on the bike I think we all felt that there is no such thing as an easy days cycling and, related to this, never expect anything. Whether its rain on the penultimate day of the trip after weeks of blazing sunshine, a stinger of a hill that comes out of nowhere, a mechanical failure or a blasting headwind, they are all part and parcel of the physical and mental challenge of a bicycle tour. Even as someone who enjoys a challenge there are days when you wake up tired and sore but hopeful, as you have only planned on an “easy” day 60 km’s down the road. In that situation, I learnt never to expect what you hope for and to be prepared for any number of eventualities. Never expect anything, least of all an easy days riding…

On a good day however, the unpredictability is something you look forward to (even if it is a stiff, winding hill to get stuck into) and can be the reward that you never expected, like a stunning view over a series of lush crater lakes, a chameleon crossing the road or a friendly chat to a random punter over lunch. These all meld into your “Golden Moments”, times that you never expected but will stick with you forever.

An easy 30 km afternoon

Africa is Rising

My experience of the past 4 months, passing through 7 countries in East and Southern Africa, has instilled a belief that the African Continent is on course for economic success. Over the past decade six of the ten fastest growing economies in the world were African. In eight of the past ten years Africa has grown faster than East Asia, and the next half century will likely see the rise of the African Lion economies, as the last saw the Asian Tigers. The continent’s ancient geology and relatively sparse population means it has what the world now desperately needs, natural resources and land. Compared to Western Europe, 1/5 of Africa’s natural resources remain “undiscovered”, while in Mozambique only 8% of the countries arable land is cultivated. Sadly, the crux of whether this wealth converts into equality and a functional state lies in the governance of the nation and the investors it chooses.

On the whole, our cross-section of factory owners to street hawkers expressed their hope and a belief that the country was headed in the right direction. For some the excitement was almost uncontainable, the business opportunities were all around you, all you needed was some common sense and “a bit of capital”. And to be fair, the signs of growth were there. We saw the burgeoning middle classes queuing around the block for the bank, representing the boom in African banking. Trucks rolled past us over the Zambezi Bridge transporting heavy machinery to the mines and the construction boom that has followed it. Commercial farms from Mozambique to Tanzania have started to supply Western Supermarkets with fresh fruit and vegetables.

Queuing around the block for the bank...

With the global economic crisis unfolding, the era of foreign aid is slowly passing which, many would argue, is not necessarily a bad thing. The future for Africa will never lie in dependent, donor-financed projects. As markets have opened Africa is now entering the razor-edged world of commercialization and investment that will engender their economic growth. The challenge is that this growth can be converted into infrastructure, education and health that will benefit the half of the population still living on less than $1.25/day. However, the pillars of good governance stand in the way (as Wanguri Maathai calls them, the three legs of an African stool), and many states are in need of deep reforms. Of the countries we have cycled through, several harbour flimsy democracies controlled by the rich and powerful elite, others are little better that benign dictatorships in which ministers are deposed of at a whim and leaders imprison their opposition on spurious charges. As if we needed reminding, in Tanzania last week allegations of bribery and corruption have led to an overhaul in the cabinet. Whether this represents a suring up of power amongst the elite or an actual move away from corruption is unclear. Either way, in what many believe is most stable democracy in East Africa, it’s a worrying thought.

As we cycled through the developing countries of Sub-saharan Africa we have often tried to imagine what the streets, markets and homes might look like in 50 years time. Looking back on the changes in the 50 years since independence one might come out with an infinite number of options. If 6% of rural Kenyans have power now, how will that change? For the adventurous touring cyclists, will there be a widely serving road network? Will there be health centres run by assistant medical officers, or family practice surgeries? What will the unemployment rate be? Will every family have a laptop? Or, will they just use their smart phones to check their emails?

To return to the main point, although economic growth is a near certainty there are singificant issues. Rampant inflation (often between 15-25%) means that for most qualifying as “middle-class”, little in their living standards changes. There is a still a huge, huge gap in gross GDP; America’s GDP per capita is 137x greater than Malawi. Even double-digit growth would take centuries to reach a level of international equality. Not forgetting this, internal equality is perhaps the most important. Since 1998 the number of dollar millionaires in Africa has doubled, while the total number in poverty has risen. A recent report by the Africa Progress Panel, led by Kofi Annan describes the “deep, persistent and enduring inequalities in evidence across Africa”.

The challenge is set, will the governments of the countries we have visited choose to follow the current trajectories of disjointed but high growth, with the hope of a “trickle down effect”, or will they choose to build a more sustainable, egalitarian model with universal access to essential services. I can’t help but feel that, for the average village women we met along the way, their already well-developed patience will be a virtue. Over a seafood dinner in Maputo, Mozambique, a thoughtful local construction merchant predicted, “10 years of stability and growth after which things will be too unequal and people won’t stand for it any longer”. Perhaps April 2022 will herald the beginning of the Subsaharan Spring? 

The Environment is more important than we think it is

The final 200 km into Johannesburg cast a dark and sooty cloud over otherwise untainted and natural route. We passed by countless shafts and excoriated open-cast mines, interspersed by the smooth, concrete cooling towers of the coal-fired power stations. The land had been scarred. As the early morning mist clung tenaciously on to the last tendrils night, we passed a rusty fence, a locked gate and a lonely, armed security guard protecting a disused open-cast mine. Perhaps the abandoned slag heaps needed the from the recolonising ochre scrubland. A few kilometres earlier noxious fumes from the power stations belched into the atmosphere, their unseen efforts contributing to future decades of plight for people thousands of miles away.

Bar this final industrial scab, we had cycled lush forests, open savannah and thorny bushlands on a route blessed by wilderness. Where farming took place, it had been largely subsistence, the basic methods that seemed the result of a long-lived relationship forged between man and the environment. A definitively far cry from the anthropocene carnage we see in the industrialized world. The comparison is laughable because it’s so obvious, and yet you can’t help but feel that the average African’s relationship with nature is worth something important. Important not only in the sense that morally we in the west are plundering the lives of other creatures we share the planet with, but environmentally and economically in the carbon sinks we destroy and the plants and animals that may hold the secrets to help us in healthcare or industry.  

Mineshaft over the road

At present Africa is a low carbon continent as energy use and spending power are extremely low. Americans use 10,381 Watts/year while Tanzanians use just 618 Watts/year. There are also success stories. The Cahora Bassa Dam, in Northern Mozambique produces over 2000 MW of energy. Equivalent to almost 90% of the countries energy needs in 2008. Driven by huge rivers tumbling from ancient plateaus, the future for hydroelectric power in Africa is immense. Current estimates suggest that Africa only harnesses 7% of its potential hydroelectric potential. The Congo river alone can be felt up to 25 miles out to sea. At present however, as evidenced in Tete and in the Johannesburg area, coal generates over half of Africa’s power. And, with oil and gas reserves on the East and West shores, the future looks to be sticking with fossil fuels.

It’s difficult to cover environmental issues in Africa without referring to the Kenyan visionary and campaigner Waangari Maathai who (in addition to offering the three legs of the African stool) highlighted the centrality of the environment in addressing her Challenge for Africa. Although she sadly passed away in November 2011, her spirit will certainly live on in the aspirations for good governance and partnership with nature which she forged. From the experiences of the past four months, I can’t help but share her well-founded sentiments. Cycling past the open coal seams of Mozambique and South Africa, the logging trucks in the Congo basin of Western Uganda, the charcoal production in the Usambara’s and the traded fishing rights in the rich waters off Mozambique, I felt a sad realisation that I might not ever truly appreciate the value of these unique and often indigenous environments until they are gone. 

Usambara's, diversity equivalent to the Galapagos

Maputo to Johannesburg: The only way is up

Although Rick may have more to write, and Gunnar may want to upload his interviews for the Norwegian press (!), this is the first of two final blogs from me from our East Africa Cycle. In retrospect, perhaps we would have been more accurate to call it East and Southern Africa Cycle. To include the South in the title would be not just geographically as Mozambique and South Africa are Southern countries, but it reflects the influence that the relative economic giant of South Africa has exerted over our route, since entering the lower reaches of Malawi. But, before going over some personal reflections in the next blog, the final weeks cycling was not without the usual trials and tribulations that deserve some mention.

Given that Swaziland has the title of the “Mountain Kingdom” and the fact that Johannesburg is 1700 metres above sea level, you would be forgiven for expecting us to be better prepared for some hills. However, sporting a nonchalant attitude, we rolled out of Mozambique with visions of speeding west across smooth South African tarmac into the setting sun. Bar a few sharp climbs, the first day and a half granted us that wish. We spent our first night camping out in a Game Reserve before crossing the Hlane Royal National Park early the following morning where, despite the warnings we came away our empty handed from our last opportunity to see a lion or leopard, although did see a few zebra, wilderbeast and giraffe.

Crossing the border of Hlane National Park...

We joined the main road to Mbabane, the capital of Swaziland, hoping to make it 20 kms past it by evening. Early on we made excellent time and 10 km’s out from town it was looking good. Only then did we meet the hills of Swaziland. It was seven kilometres of pure climbing the easiest of which must have been 7-8% gradients, with my speedo stuck at 7 kph we slowly ground our bottom gears up the hill. We had spent that afternoon on the hard shoulder of a dual carriageway and were not keen to cycle on in the dark, so when on the first descent towards the bowl of Mbanane Gunnar had a two inch shard of glass lodged in his tyre we started be concerned. A quick inner tube change and tyre patch and we just had the time to make it to a near by market to buy our dinner. In a new country, in a city, next to a dual carriageway was far from ideal when it comes to safe camping. After a few minutes chatting to a few passers by (at one point Gunnar was being told by a local Swazi guy not to speak to or trust anyone, while I had someone telling me that Swaziland is the most friendly and safe place in Africa…) the lady who ran the local market place offered us a camping spot in her garden! We just had to wait a few minutes for her to close everything up. Happily, we sat by the market enjoying the Chelsea buns which seemed to have popped up in local shops – definitely one of the better roadside snacks of our trip – before being led up a short hill to her house to spend a very comfortable and satisfied evening. 

 

Maguga Dam

The small, stocky nature of Swaziland reminded me of Rwanda, and similarly it was only going to take us a couple of days to ride through it. The next day we would ride to Piggs Peak and then cross the Bulembo border into South Africa into Barbeton and our rest day. At about 130 kms it should have been fairly manageable. We covered the hilly 70 kms to Piggs Peak, a stunning ride which swept down to cross the Maguga dam before rising up to the Peak, comfortably in the morning, and enjoyed a well earned lunch still buzzing from our climb. Before we were due to set off we treated ourselves to a nice clean toilet and an ice cream at KFC. We met a South African couple who gave us a warning – the 20 km road to Bulembo was dirt, hilly and the border closes at four o’clock, in two hours time. Not unduly worried but not wanting to rush our cycling, we set off promptly on our bikes. 

Climb up from the dam (under my left hand!)

It was about half an hour in, after winding out of town on a rough and steep track, at a pace of about 8 kph we started to be concerned. What happened next I would happily choose to forget. For the next 90 minutes we pounded up rocky climbs and picked our way down technical descents, barely having a moments rest between the two. In my exercise addled brain I was constantly trying to work out what speed we were going to need for the next section to make it on time, but never quite seemed to get it right.  When we finally struggled into the border post, up a sharp incline with less than 5 minutes to spare before it shut, we collapsed in a sweaty, dusty mess. A South African family clapped us in and I swore at that point I would never ride the road ever again (I still stand by that). Perhaps slightly ironically we didn’t make it much further than the border. Supportive and generous the Saffer family may have been (they gave us a couple of beers and some biltong for our efforts), but they were horrendous at road descriptions. “Ah yah, it’s mostly downhill to Barbeton”. After another 4km of constant up, followed by some rolling hills, our legs politely told us to stop and we pitched up, 30 km short of our rest day. Despite being the sacreligous choice – nothing messes with the rest day – it was a good one, we were treated to a stunning campsite and beautiful couple of (definitely not downhill) riding the next day.

I had been looking forward to entering South Africa for a long time. I had never visited before and was excited to see what African flavour development tasted like. At first it felt guilty, I felt we were breaking the frugal rules of our trip by having a Full English breakfast, with filter coffee and topping that off with a takeaway pizza for dinner. But it was difficult to turn down. We had the money and in an affluent town in a developed country it wasn’t an absurd thing to do, so why not? I guess after the simplicity of our roadside foods, the choice and opulence was a culture shock and the inequity that came with it was difficult to swallow. Either way, it did taste good even if my stomach seemed to struggle with the extra cheese.

Gunnar rides our from freezing morning mist

The final three days to Johannesburg happily passed without incident. After being advised the road was “fairly flat” it wasn’t a surprise to find a 10 km and 7 km climb in our first mornings riding (Why are drivers so rubbish at remembering and describing roads!?). As we arrived into Carolina that evening black drifts shimmered by the roadside and heralded the beginning of 200 km’s of rich coals seam which would take us all the way into Johannesburg. From the beautiful, green pastoral lands of Swaziland and Western South Africa, the brown, tufted arable fields, interspersed with Coals mines and Maize fields felt cold and unwelcoming. We passed several huge Coal fired powered stations, working at full capacity generating electricity that sped towards the big cities of Northern South Africa on athletic-looking steel pillons. Perhaps the saddest sight was a lonely security guard protecting a now disused open-cast coal mine. Having dug 60 metres down and clawed all the coal from the earth, it was left for nature to attempt to reclaim what was rightfully hers protected by a lone gunman. The parasitic humans had moved on in search of more energy to feed their insatiable demands. If the views weren’t unpleasant enough the cycling wasn’t much better, double-trailer land trains came past us every couple of minutes meaning we rode ever-vigilant in single-file. If this was the development that I came for, it was a sobering view, I hoped that the land around Tete, where $4.5 billion of coal reserves had been discovered might have a better fate.

Power station on full blast

Although normally comfortable on a busy road, I felt nervous on my final day cycling. The road remained busy with uncompromising trucks and we carried the burden of 4 months without any significant incidents. Thankfully, providence delivered us safely to the friendly Turton family on the outskirts of Johannesburg. The final entrance was low-key. If there were any banners we missed them as we cycled straight past the main entrance and up the wrong driveway, eventually needing to be let in the side gate. We took off our panniers, unpacked, showered and did our washing before falling asleep in a hammock on their verandah. It took a while for it to sink in, over an incredibly tasty braii, a few beers and some warming Turton hospitality that evening I had one of a series of small waves of satisfaction – Kampala to Johannesburg by bike – job done. However, a few days later I am still waiting for that huge rush of elation for having achieved what we set out to do. I’ve come to think that it probably won’t ever come; Johannesburg was just another stop that happens to be a bit further than the rest. To be quite honest, I don’t mind, I happy in the knowledge that the rewards we searched for have been there all along, in every pedal strike of our journey.

Journeys End

Tofo to Maputo: The Beginning of the End

It was with mixed emotions that we doned our lycra cycling shorts and stepped onto our peddles for Rick's ride into Maputo. The beach at Tofo had been a stunning place to unwind and collect our reflections on the last three and a half months of hard riding, and while one half revelled in the joys of daily scenery changes and life on the open road, the other looked forward to the end-point which we had been touting for such a long time. I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation, I wanted to be there now, to cross the city limits and feel the rush of having finally made it. Equally the final three days were something to be savoured, to enjoy sitting out in outside our tents, making dinner in the diming evening light.

Sunrise through the coconut palms

Our final three days were to be no mean feat, we had 500kms to cover in three and a half days. To have a chance of finding our way safely through what was to be one of the biggest citys' we had cycled through we wanted to arrive as early as possible into Maputo, and so planned to make early headway into our mileage. For the first two days we felt fortune was on our side, as the stiff Southerly winds we had struggled into down the coast had eased considerably. It was these same Southerlies that had brought Vasco De Gama North as he rounded the Cape of Good Hope in 1498, to colonise eventually Mozambique for the Portguese. The coast around Tofo had been one of the original places they had landed, where local people had brought forward avocados and tropical fruits to give the newly arrived foreigners, kind gestures which led De Gama to name the area the "Terra Des Boa Gente". The bounty of the area was plain to see as we passed glades of palm trees heavy with coconuts and tangerine stalls lined the road, selling 6 fruits for a total of 20 pence.

"White cyclist drinking coconut" camera photo makes it famous of Mozambique Facebook

Added to our lucky wind break a mixture of strong wills, fresh legs and early starts meant that we had covered almost 240 km in a day and a half and were in a good position to make our push into Maputo. As we rode on we day-dreamed of our final ride into town, of a glorious sunny afternoon and a cold beer on the Indian Ocean. However, if there is one think we have learnt in three and half months it is never to expect anything. Our second night brought torrential rains and when Rick and I emerged from the tent to a drizzly, misty morning, which would not have been out of place in an English Autumn, most of our bedding was soaked through. As if to herald the end of our trip, the tent had finally given up its waterproofing and Nature had given a final throw of the dice to boot. The wet weather continued in fits and starts throughout the day, never clear long enought to allow us to dry completely and, as we came to 100km our plans for a final evening of sitting our underneath  a clear African sky for our last supper were looking less and less likely. Our final evening therefore was a new experience, having seen abandoned buildings a-plenty on our trip we now found use for them as a shelter. With two tents nestled in on a sandy floor, and a fire in the corner to smoke out the hungry mosquitoes we happily drank our celebratory carton of wine sheltered from the rain which continued to rattle our tin roof.

The further we came South the more developed Mozambique had become, with more commerce, banking and traffic on the road. The South African influence was inescapable and gave a tantilising taste of what we might come to expect from the most economically advanced country in Africa. Shops stocked South African commodoties, convoys of 4x4's with slick ocean fishing boats sped past us and bars hopefully affliated themselves to South Africa, such as the "Cape Town Rest House". Xai-Xai was the biggest town we had come through since Blantyre and as we passed through, out of the mist came a jaw-dropping sight - a KFC with Drive-Thru! Urban legend has it that no two countries which have a McDonalds have ever gone to war with each other, although this may not apply to their competitors, it certainly felt like the beginnings of something more commercial than we had seen and, perhaps, developed.

Lady luck seemed to smile on us one more time and, despite the slightiest of early morning drizzle we soon had clear, sunny skies for the final ride into Maputo. After cycling 6600 kms the final 100 came all to quickly, as we came to within 20km of the city it felt like the road should have carried on, that there must be more for us to cycle. How much more we weren't quite sure but this couldn't be it, surely? Nevertheless, it was to be the end. We rolled down the final hill to Maputo Bay and plonked our bike on the nearest bar for a well deserved treat of cold beer and cashew nuts. The bar staff crowded around our bike, tuting and shaking their heads at the sight of 6738 km on the speedometer. After savouring the moment for a short while, we headed into town to stay with Angie, Holger and their family. As has happened all too often on our trip we were welcomed beyond what we could have imagined. They have open their homes and taken us out for dinner leaving a debt of gratitude we will struggle to repay.

"It was this big"

Although we might happily end this blog here, it wouldn't be quite fitting to finish without mentioning our second "brush with the law" of the trip which came on our final day's riding. We had long debated the idea of a naked cycle but, with different reasons getting in the way, it hadn't happened. For Rick, it was now or never and on a quiet stretch of road he threw out the suggestion. A short stop and two minutes later we were back on our bikes and could feel the wind (and our saddles!) on our pasty buttocks. We caused some amusement to passing cars, one man in particular who pulled over and came past for a second time, unsure if he believed what he saw the first. After a few minutes of harmless fun we stopped and put our clothes back on, continuing towards town for our mid-morning snack. Tens minutes down the road we were flagged down by the same man. "This is very serious, the police they are waiting for you in the town. They have stopped me and asked about the cyclists. This is very serious". He made gestures of them clapping us in handcuffs and leading us away to who-knows-where. He proposed an alternative which seemed much better, he offered to put our bike in his pick-up and drive us around the town! Breathing a sigh of relief we took him up and twenty minutes later were safely delivered to the other side of town. For us however the suspense continued, constantly fearing a police car may pull us over. At one point our nerves were tested as a police car pulled up behind and turned its siren on, only to come past as part of a VIP convoy...

 

Perhaps one of the most well earned beers yet

As I sit and write this blog Rick is on a plane, no doubt somewhere over Tanzania, covering the distance we have in three and half months in three and a half hours. It was an emotional goodbye at the airport and he will be missed on our cycle to Johannesburg, where Gunnar and I will fly home from in a weeks time. It will be a fascinating final trip that hopefully will allow us to follow up on the taste of African style development, which has built up the further south we have travelled on our trip so far.

Rick rides off into the sunset

Vilankulos to Tofo: Beach to Beach

We had spent three full days in Vilankulos, longer than we had stayed anywhere since Moshi, so it was perhaps understandable that the preparations for leaving the comforts of our beachside campsite took slightly longer than usual. By the time we had wheeled our bikes through the sand and begrudgingly saddled up (for some this was less comfortable than others - Rick's saddle rails had finally snapped clean through, so left him with a floppy saddle attached by an old inner tube) it was 7 o'clock.

Fishermen come in at sunrise in Vilankulos

As one might have expected no miracles had been performed and as soon as we were back on the road, we found ourselves back in the throws of our old enemy, the mighty headwind. Distances and plans for the two day stint to the next beachsite resort of Tofo were conflicting, we knew it was between 250 - 300km, however with Gunnar feeling the effects of an upset stomach the 50 km made a big difference. Nevertheless, with a ferry crossing the next day, we resolved to make as much ground as possible on this first day.

I have to confess that these two days cycling have come as a late turning point for me, a turning point which i think for Rick happened a few days previously, out of Tete. I really felt that 6 hours cycling per day has now become habitual and our bodies had adapted. Wheras previously I would be patiently waiting for lunch to arrive and have the chance to rest, or to reach the end of the day so that I could rest my weary legs, these two days felt comfortable. At lunch we felt chirpy and even fairly well rested. And all this just in time for us to finish our challenge. For Gunnar the challenge was different, feeling the effects of his loss of appetite and stomach pains, he showed the depths of his resolve to battle out the 140k we completed on the first day.

Gunnar sleeps through lunch

Although the headwind stayed with us for the entire two days (bar a final 10 km into Tofo) the scenery began to gradually change from the treed scrubland, to enormous glades of coconut trees as far as the eye could see. The ceaseless flat landscaped also became punctated by gradual hills which took a few minutes to scale but took some of the boredom from the journey (yes, thats right, we have come to look forward to the hills...).

The general rule seemed that the further south we cycled the more developed and commercial towns became, with well-stocked shops and bars and restaurants. The one exception was finding a lunch spot out on the first ride out of Vilankulos, spotting a suitable place on the map, we arrived to find a smaller-than-the-font-suggested village. Unsurprisingly for Mozambique there was no restaurant, so we planned to buy some veg and cook our own. However no luck, despite a handful of shops nowhere sold any fresh fruit or veg. In fact, the only lunchable food was a tin of sardines. That's not to say the shops were bare, in fact they were well stocked, with fizzy drinks, alcohol, biscuits and cigarettes. When we asked the locals what they ate, it varied from "cold drinks and biscuits", to "gin and cigarettes".

With continued strong efforts from Gunnar, we made Maxixe, our launchpoint to the beach headland of Inhambane, by lunch the following day. From here we took a dubious ride on what can only be described as a large motorised dingy, with our bikes strapped to the roof, across the choppy inlet to Inhambane town. For the whole 20 min journey we were half expecting to see a large splash as our bikes slid from the roof. When we arrived in Inhambane we were pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful ex-colonial town which would barely be out of place on the Mediterranean coast. Furthermore we were well furnished with a tasty burger and chips.

Rick drops in on a "bomb"

Our final 15km doubled back on ourselves up the coast, and so reaped the rewards of our work into the headwind, as we clipped along the coast toward the northern coastal resort of Tofo. We found ourselves well rewarded by a huge arcing beach, with crashing waves and almost entirely deserted. Here we have rested ourselves, eaten some of biggest prawns i have ever seen and spent our time surfing to varying degrees of "radness", of note it was Gunnar's first efforts on a surfboard. The good news for our final leg is that Gunnars stomach has settled and the Norwegian powerhouse is back. So, when we make our final 3 1/2 day journey to Maputo on Sunday, it will be with a fully fit complement. The one element we cannot control is the roadworthyness of our bikes, both Rick and I are suffering from increasingly loose front bearings and a worsening wobbly cranks. However, with a bit of luck, they should last the last few hundred kilometres.

Chimoio to Vilankulos

After having had 2 rest days in Chimoio, with an expat-family that we were so lucky to stay with and for which we are very grateful, it was time to move on again. The about 460 km from Chimoio to Vilankulos awaited us the next 3 days. This was the largest stretch so far, but we started out with usual optimism!

Out from Chimoio we had a thick fog and a drizzle, not what you might expect, and Paddy had to put his headtorch on and use it as a rear light to ensure cars would see us! Otherwise it was a pleasant ride, mostly downhill and the km's went by quickly. That helped us to set a new daily record of 182 km, though we like to think it could have been 200 km if it wasn't for the headwind!

So far Mozambique had been a very scenic country with beautiful views and one could never get bored along the way. Unfortunately the same cannot be said about the way to Vilankulos. It is a sparsely populated area, which made us have to think more carefully about the water supply, and the road is for the most part flat and straight. Combined with the headwind that is a recipe for both physically and mentally hard cycling.

We had been told that we were now heading into cashew nut territory, and we really did experience that. In every town we entered we were surrounded by people selling their cashews. A real treat! It is otherwise not so much to say about this stage of the journey, other than it was a stage that had to be done, and we knew that arriving at the coast would make it all worth it!

Eventually we reached Vilankulos on the third day, just after Rick's seat had had enough on the bumpy roads and broken. Fortunately it happened close to our target destination so we could get there and Rick could fix it during our stay with great ingenuity! With its beautiful beach and amazing views, the last days monotonous terrain could be left behind and we had a few lazy days on the beach to treat our sore bodies to look forward to, including treats such as snorkling at a reef.

Gunnar

The Home Straight

Shortly after leaving Chimoio, we saw the first signpost for Maputo. Our lofty long-term destination for the past four months was final becoming a reality, but with 1,111km still to go we still had plenty of work to do. An hour or two later, we turned South on to the N1 which would take us all the way to the Capital. Another 730km later, we are now in the small town of Tofu, enjoying the warm waters of the Indian Ocean and a few days rest before the final three and a half day stint to the finish line. 

Leaving the clouds and Chimoio behind

On our last day cycling here we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, marking 20° below the equator. Having started a few degrees North of the Equator in Kampala, it is interesting to compare the differences in our hard earned latitude, and the changes in the environment through which we have travelled. The sun no longer passes directly overhead but arcs to the North and provides some twilight before rising and setting at the now slightly slower pace. The days are now considerably shorter as we head South, meaning we have only a few hours cycling in the afternoon before dark, but fortunately the nights are cooler and much more comfortable, and we no longer have to endure the ‘boil in the bag’ style camping we suffered in the Tanzanian lowlands. We last swam in the Indian Ocean on the Tanzanian coast, some 1,000km north of here and 3,000km cycling ago and even the change in sea temperature is noticeable. It’s strange to think we’ve covered all this ground by bike and that the changes are so apparent. 

Seafood carried in the usual manner

Tomorrow we will head off on a three and a half day stint to Maputo. The end is now in sight and (hopefully) very achievable. At the start of the trip, thinking of anywhere but the 3-day target was ridiculous, and admittedly quite daunting. We planned each three or four day section, and our destination was the end of these days. We then plan another and set off on another short leg. Somehow these sections all piece together to form what has been an amazing adventure. 

Every now and then as we’re cycling we find our minds drifting to our arrival, imagining what it will be like and how we will feel. We try to indulge in these thoughts as little as possible, and concentrate on the task in hand, but as we get closer the thoughts return more often, wondering how we will feel when we do finally arrive. Relief will definitely be felt- no more 4:30am starts, no more 7 hour days in the saddle. Satisfaction at the completion of our journey- the route visible on a globe, and the figures- over 6,500km of cycling feels impressive to us. Gratitude for the experiences along the way, places we’ve seen and people we met, and what has been (despite some hardships) a very enjoyable challenge. I am also excited about returning home, catching up with family and friends, and of course with Emily.

Gunnar playing football with the locals

Now looking forward to the final 450km of cycling that remains, and will relish the ‘last’ of everything as it passes by. The last wild camp, the last (of many!) rice and tomato curry, the last hill climb, the last puncture? Despite my snapped saddle and the resulting discomfort, we will also relish the fitness we have gained along the way, and the ease with which we can now cover ground on our bikes. I am quite sure I will never be this fit again! 

But, it is still too early to be complacent. The final few days will still be hard and no doubt present challenges and dangers along the way. Fingers crossed however, that by Wednesday evening we will be enjoying a few hard earned beers and the completion of our journey.

Tete to Chimoio: A hazy three days

In the past week we have entered a new country, Mozambique, we have covered a lot of good mileage and, with the introduction of our new team member, the Norwegian powerhouse Gunnar Kornberg, have enjoyed a new perspective on the trip.

Team on the way out of Tete with Salmar

It's been fantastic to welcome Gunnar as part of the team. Although several of our friends had motioned some interest in joining the tour, for one reason or another Gunnar is the only one (mad enough?) to have ended up joining us. The connection is perhaps slightly tenous but sets the tone for the type of tenacious athlete he is. On a trip to Bergen to visit my dad, it was suggested that i go for a run and cycle with Gunnar. Sounds good, i thought. . As we set off on a "short" run to the top of the local cable car i felt comfortable with the pace but he soon stopped. "That is the warm up done, now we do 4 minutes on, 4 minutes off". Suffice to say that after a few repetitions it all melded into 8 minutes of just-about-faster-than-off as i struggled to keep Gunnar within my distant sights. Nevertheless, two years later and after a volley of emails, Rick and I awaited his arrival on rainy Blantyre Saturday. He arrived looking exceedingly fit, healthy and well-prepared for the trip, counting amongst his training a 320 km one-day epic solo cycle through the Norwegian mountains, that's 18 hours of cycling in total...

For Rick and I its been a pleasure to have a fresh perspective to re-energize on the trip. After nearly three months of cycling together you often running out of things to say and we had become accustomed to peddling along quietly with each other, mulling over our own thoughts. We now had the opportunity to relive the original excitement and experience of our trip, reminding us of why we originally chose to do it and quite how different this all was to our normalities of daily living. It also gave us a chance to recount some of our favourite stories and impart some of our "tricks of the trade".

In terms of our journey, I think its best to pick up where Rick left off, with the incredible hospitality and generosity shown to us at every angle by all peoples. As i write this, i am sitting in the kids bedroom of a family in Chimoio, in North-Eastern Mozambique, our rest stop after three days cycling from Tete. We spoke to them yesterday a few hours before we were to arrive, on a number given to us by Fraser and Candice, our newly made friends in Tete, and were warmly welcomed into their home with a tasty Macaroni cheese dinner. It's the latest of a long line of connections, along we are fortuitously passed from family to family. To describe the kindness of Fraser and Candice is honestly difficult. When we arrived late in the evening we had planned to stay just one night, however within a few hours we had been convinced to stay another day and join Fraser Tiger fishing on the Zambezi for his day off! At every turn we were fed and watered and were even invited to their 10 year old daughters birthday party. It was fantastic to feel so welcomed and part of their family for two days.

Beyond these families, we benefit on a daily basis from the benevolence of the passing stranger. As we stopped for lunch in a local restaurant on the way out of Tete, no sooner had we sat down than we found a round of soda's courtesy of a Mozambican gentleman in the corner. He had passed us 20k out of down and felt he owed us a drink in respect of our challenge. In fact, that whole lunch we paid only for one bottle of water, as another gentleman bought us a further round of drinks. The whole concept of openness, sharing and generosity is overwhelming and slightly baffling to us insular Europeans, but is one which we will all try and spread on our return home. If only to rebalance our karma to which we are currently heavily indebted!

The lunch was also a memorable one for one other reason; the celebrations of Mozambican Women's Day. The role of the woman in Sub-Saharan Africa has been well documented, but cannot be overstated. As far as we have seen the stereotype still remains strong, especially in rural areas. We have often entered towns for our midday stop and had drunken men slur broken English in our direction from the bar, while their lady counterparts quietly go about their business selling food and wares, collecting water and tending to their shambas. But on April 7th in Mozambique it is Womens day and the chance to throw off the yolk of their daily chores and do whatever they wish! We had our lunch accompanied by a group of women in matching kanga's bearing the face of Josina Machel, a female independance freedom fighter who died on April 7th in 1970, they danced and enjoyed perhaps one of the most well-deserved beers around.

Well-earned beer on Mozambique Women's Day

The town of Tete is a fascinating example of the economic revival going in many parts Africa. It is spread along the banks of the enormous Zambezi river, as David Livingstone called it "Gods Highway", and has the claim to fame of being the "hottest town in Africa" (our hosts have had to twice replace their thermometres as they burst from the heat!). Passing through the town the pace of development is startling, from a relatively quiet town concerned mainly with Tobacco processing a few years ago, the discovery of $4 Billion reserves of coal have transformed it into a bustling industrial boom-town. Concerned of the heat we left early on the morning of Saturday 7th May on our road out of town, passing housing developments which a few years ago were deemed worthless scrubland. For the first section of our trip we were honoured to be joined by Salmar, a friend of Fraser who had recently completed the Cape Epic, an 800k off-road race around Cape Town with over 16,000 metres of height gain, not a challenge for the faint hearted!

For me, the journey onward from here leaves a short, painful and hazy imprint on my memory. The night before we left Tete, i started to feel unwell. I had headache, stomach pains and nausea. Being a good doctor i took no medicine and went straight to bed, sleeping through supper and waking 12 hours later the following morning. Feeling somewhat refreshed, and with the urgency to keep moving on the road i felt good to go. Sadly things didn't miraculously improve and within an hour i was sweating profusely and struggling to keep pace with Rick and Gunnar up the hills. As we set off from a short morning break i was on the verge of vomiting and our pace slowed up again. Gunnar and Rick kindly took my heavier luggage and, with my eyes firmly fixed on their back tyre, guided me into lunch.

"I Love Tete"

As a doctor with a budding interest in all things tropical, i'm still not sure what it was/is that  brought this on, the only certainty is that the list is a long one with options ranging from viral to bacterial to parasitic (sadly our Rapid Malaria tests failed to work, no doubt due to being stored in >40 C). What i do also know is that for the next three days i continued to feel rotten and struggled with the pace of the trip. The three most resounding feelings i remember from these two days are the frustration, anorexia and tiredness. The frustration that no matter how hard i pushed there was nothing i could do to keep up with the Rick and Gunnar, hills that would have previously been a comfortable climb became severe mountain passes. The loss of appetite was disconcerting for two reasons, firstly it was an entirely new feeling for me, despite the 6 1/2 hours cycling i felt absolutely no desire to eat, but equally because it gave me an impartial view while watching Rick and Gunnar hoover everything edible in sight, and then continue on their search for calories. I almost couldn't believe that i was also in this slightly crazed state of hunger for all of the rest of my trip. Finally the tiredness was overwhelming, as we cycled past shaded trees i imagined curling up underneath one and closing my eyes, for two days after lunch i fell straight asleep and each night was knocked out by 8. The good news is that things are better and that i can eat, whether this is the natural course of things or due to a course of antibiotics, i'm not sure (and i'm not sure i care!).

For Rick and Gunnar, the experience of these three days is, i'm sure, slightly different as they were able to concentrate on the finer elements of the trip. We were lucky enough to enjoy beautiful sunny weather, often not too hot in the early morning and therefore pleasant for cycling. Out of the tree and bushland rose dramatic rock fortresses, which excited the climber in Rick and, in combination with the Portuguese colonial feel, gave the area a similar feeling to Northern Spain. On our second night, we enjoyed camping with a local family, in the midst of their circular thatch and mud huts, a new experience for Gunnar which Rick and i were happy to share. And, a quiet, good tar road made the cycling as pleasant as could be.

Early morning with Mozambican family 

It's now the 10th April and we have 8 days of cycling left until we reach Maputo. The feeling of almost reaching the end is one that for a long-time seemed too far away to conceive, but has arrived more quickly than we had imagined. Still, the trip has so far thrown up the unexpected at every turn, i have little doubt that there is still plenty ahead before we arrive in Maputo.