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.

A new perspective: Gunnar Kornberg

I joined Paddy and Rick on their cycle expedition on the 31 March when I arrived in Blantyre, Malawi. I had been looking forward for that moment for a long time, but since I had not done any trips remotely similar to this one before I had a mixed feeling of nervousness and really not knowing what would await me. I had made myself some thoughts, however, of how it would be: Long and hard cycling in very hot weather and a constant worry about having enough water. 

Starting out from Blantyre

However, all of those expectations didn´t ring true. It was not long and hard cycling, it was very long and very hard cycling! At moments I wondered if these guys were machines that could just go on and on, and I was struggling to keep up. The weather wasn’t hot and sunny as expected (I actually had to wait ½ hour to get out of the plane because it was pouring down), but rainy and actually a bit cold – so I got good use of the lightweight rain jacket (really more wind than waterproof) which I´d bought at the last moment. As for the water, that was no problem at all. In Malawi many villages that we passed by had a well where we could fill up our water bottles. So far no need for the 6 L bladders I thought would be essential. Although that might change as we now head further into Mozambique which has more barren land. The wells were a real eye-opener to me for the important work Water Aid is doing (an organization which I´d never heard about before) and how much more easy it makes the life for the local population which have enough to struggle with. 

... And so the days passes by...

Since I joined we´ve cycled from Blantyre to Mulanje, which is a large massif containing many high peaks, of which we had set our eye on the highest: The 3002 m high Sapitwa Peak. It turned out to be quite an exhausting hike, but we were all happy to have done it, although our legs might not agree. The next few days would be even harder and, admittedly, at times I was thinking I cannot keep up this tempo. We did the 70 km ride back to Blantyre in a hurry to get to the Mozambique passport office to  get our visas the same day as that would save us both time and money (and not being entirely sure how acquiring a visa at the border was going to work out). But the hardest day still lay ahead. The around 160 km ride from our camp to the next target: Tete in Mozambique. On the way to the border we had to overcome some stinging hills while it was drizzling (which was quite welcomed at the time), but eventually we reached it and got our approval for entry to a new country.
It is always interesting to see the difference from one country to another, this time the first we spotted was all the holes in the road! (People complaining on the roads where I come from should have a look). The ride was a tad easier from the border, lacking the long hills. But the weather  turned more to my expectations and it was getting hot. We were really glad, then, when we reached Tete, ½ hour before dark, all of us really exhausted.

In Tete we were very lucky to have made contact with a family that invited us to their home. During the 2 days we stayed there we were really treated as kings and all of us are really thankful for the hospitality we were shown (I hope I can manage to bring the same hospitality back to Norway). We were even taken for a fishing trip on the Zambezi! Something we'd never imagined doing when we were biking over the bridge 2 days earlier. And even if we didn't manage to catch a tigerfish, it was a truly great experience, and the earlist beer we ever had!

Paddy's focusing on the beer

When I am writing this it is our last night in Tete, and we all agreed that after the 2 rest days it kind of feels like a Sunday before work on Monday. Still, I believe it will be nice to get cycling again and explore a new country and all it has to offer.

Mt Mulanje: Smash & Grab

Staying in Blantyre in Southern Malawi, gave us the opportunity to rest for a couple of days awaiting the arrival of Gunnar- a Norwegian uber-fit mountain runner who was to join us for the final leg of our journey down to Maputo. We planned to take a short detour to the East to climb Malawi's highest peak- Mt Mulanje, at 3,002 metres above sea level, before returning back through Blantyre to head West from Malawi into Mozambique. 


Plans to take the bus the 80km each way to the mountain were scrapped to ensure we could meet Gunnar's thirst for hard exercise, so it was an early start and back on the bikes as we started stage three of our journey. The ride to the mountain was fast and enjoyable as we decended around 500m from Blantyre to Likhubala, where we entered the Forest Reserve and could start our hike. The Forest Reserve was established in 1927, to protect the unique ecosystem of the mountain and protect, amongst others, the native (and now endangered) Mulanje Cypress tree which has suffered in the past due to heavy logging. The park office was very helpful in storing our bikes and excess luggage whilst we were on the mountain, but despite our strong protests, insisted on us taking a mountain guide to lead the way. This was the result of a number of accidents on the mountain in recent years, the worst of which was a lone hiker in 2009 who became lost in the mist descending from the summit and tragically died as a result. 

Mt Mulanje towers above the surrounding tea plantations

Mount Mulanje National Park covers an area of 240 square km, and consists of a number of peaks divided by streams, waterfalls and enticing rocky outcrops which in-season provide some adventurous rock climbing. The fog and mist which often hangs on the peaks has led to the area being dubbed the 'Island in the Sky'. 


We hiked steeply out of the village led by our guide Anthony, (who instead of energy sachets carried plastic pouches of local gin), but nevertheless set a solid pace as we had only 5 hours before dark to cover the 6 hour hike to the mountain hut. Leaving the forests of the lower reaches of the mountain we were rewarded by magnificent views of the plains below. The criss-cross of rivers made for some interesting crossings but ensured our water bottles were kept full, as the memories of our last climb in Tanzania brought back harsh memories of severe dehydration which we did not wish to repeat. Within a couple of hours we were well within the clouds and the river crossings became less of an issue as we were already soaked through from the rain. Around 4 hours in, surmounting a small crest, we spotted with great relief our mountain hut in the valley below, stomped through the now swollen river and quickly made a fire to dry out our sodden clothes and bodies, and to cook our dinner. 

The Island in the Sky?

The fire kept us warm through the night, until we were forced to leave the comfort of our sleeping bags at 5am in the hope of starting our summit bid. The final 800m climb to the summit is a mix of hiking and scrambling over granite boulders and slabs, and we were warned by Anthony that it would not be possible in the rain. Fortunately the rain had stopped in the night, but the scramble up was still difficult due to a mixture of wet, slippery rock and the thin air at 3000m. By 8am we were on the summit, enjoying a brief spell of sunshine and our long-awaited victory snickers. Job done- this only left us with a solid 6 hours of knee-destroying downhill back to the village. The rain luckily held off until we had descended the steepest rocky sections, and we sheltered for half an hour back in the hut as we brewed our tea and instant noodles, before continuing on the decent. Marching at top speed we descended quickly, hoping to give ourselves a couple of hours of riding in the evening to break the journey back towards Blantyre. 

Slippery steps on the way to the summit

We arrived wet and exhausted in the village, where we reloaded our bikes and enjoyed our lunch in a small village where bars on either side of us had war movies on full volume blaring out. Halfway through lunch, as we started to go crazy from the noise, a well timed power cut ended the disturbance and we felt ourselves returning to sanity and gorged heavily on the huge plate of carbs presented to us. 

A refreshing dip on the way down eases our sore legs

Thanks to the rain, the 10km of dirt road back to the main road at times resembled a fishing pond, and we often found ourselves axle deep struggling to keep speed through these huge puddles. Fighting into a cross headwind, we were spurred on by the thought of a 90 degree change in direction once we reached the tarmac and a strong tail wind back towards Blantyre. Reaching the tarmac with relief, we turned the bend and instantly doubled our speed, racing to make the most of the wind for the last hour of daylight. Having just made an ascent of the mountain in 2 hard half-days (which normally takes 2-3 days), and racing off towards the setting sun, we felt like robbers making a getaway after a smash & grab raid of a jewelry store. 


Crashing to sleep that night, I had to wake myself up twice as my dreams led me back to the repetitive walk down the mountain (quite enough of that thank you!). This would be the first of 3 poor nights sleep as the tightness in my quads prevented me from lying comfortably in any position in the tent. 


Again rising before dawn, we aimed to reach the Mozambique embassy in Blantyre by 8am in the hope of organising our visas and avoiding the increased prices and large bribes often required at the border. The climb was long and steep, and admittedly we took some pleasure in seeing Gunnar struggling to keep up with our now well accustomed cycling legs. Arriving as the embassy opened, our efforts paid off and thanks to the increasingly beneficial black market rate we got for our dollars, and the legitimate visa rates at the embassy we had obtained our visas by lunchtime at a third of our expected cost. 


As we peddled our of town, we all agreed that Blantyre was the best city we had ever cycled out of as it was downhill in every direction. With 230km to cover by the following evening, we pressed on and rode hard until the light faded before making camp in some very long grass, calling out to any scare off any snakes that might not take kindly to our presence. 


For the 4th time in four days we rose in the dark, with over 150km and a border crossing between our camp and our destination- the city of Tete, we had a long day ahead of us. The climb to the border went smoothly, and we enjoyed the last of the cooling rains we would receive for a while, before dropping into Mozambique where we attacked the remaining milage with gusto. Now with three of us in a close train we took turns leading and averaged well over 25km/h until we stopped to cook our own lunch under the shade of some trees (since we forgot to change any money at the border!).

Crossing the Zambezi River in Tete

The heat had risen immensely throughout the day, and suffering from fewer water-pump wells than we had enjoyed through Malawi, and the long day in the sun I started to suffer the early stages of heat stroke. Fortunately we were not far from town where we found an ATM and enjoyed a cold soda break before pushing on the final 30km to Tete. Our hard work was worth it as we were welcomed by Fraiser & Candice Ward, the next family on a trail of generous 'hook-ups' that we had been passed along on our journey. We showered and enjoyed cold beers, before our hosts apologised(!) at having to take us to a huge Brazilian-style goat BBQ to celebrate one of their friends Salma having just completed the Cape Epic- an 8 days mountain bike race in South Africa and reputedly one of the hardest cycle races in the world. 


The four days, combining the cycling and hiking had been the hardest of the trip so far, and a harsh introduction for Gunnar. They had done the job though, and we all felt completely broken and much in need of some good rest  and a serious amount of eating. 


Throughout our trip we have been welcomed, hosted and looked after by a range of hosts- both locals and ex-pats. The generosity and openness that we have been greeted with by complete strangers has astonished us every time. People we have never met before, chatted to briefly or who have stopped us in the street have welcomed us into their homes, given us food, shelter and treated us like old friends have really been the highlight of this trip for me. This sense of selfless giving has been a real eye opener for me and something I really hope to take with me and hopefully 'pay forward' sometime in the future. 


A big thank you to everyone who has helped us along the way. You have made this trip for us!