School Support

We’ve had a few schools following our progress as part of their studies, namely Mrs Ripley’s P6/P7 group at Newtonhill School, and Mr Keen’s Hawking House class at John of Gaunt School in Trowbridge. So a big thank you for your interest and support! In light of this we thought we’d do a short blog on the school systems out here, mostly based around the Tanzanian system which we have the most knowledge of. 

Education is hugely important for the young generations in East Africa, and as the countries continue to develop commercially, language, numeracy and literacy skills are becoming increasingly valuable. Primary school is generally compulsory and children generally start at 5 years old, although children can start at any age leading to mixed age classes. Whilst both Tanzania and Malawi offer free ‘state’ primary schools, costs such as uniform and books must be provided for. Virtually all schools have a uniform and pupils are smartly dressed, obviously taking pride in their education. 

Smartly dressed children on the way to school

State secondary schools are available in Tanzania, where teenagers can continue their education providing they pass their exams. The system is uncompromising, and should any pupil fail their exams they are dismissed from the school and as a result not allowed to enrol in any other state school. The alternative in this case is private school, which costs in the region of $100 per term, which compared to an average daily wage of $3 can be prohibitively expensive. The additional difficulty faced by pupils on their secondary education is the change in teaching language- whilst the primary years in Tanzania are taught in Swahili, as soon as pupils reach secondary school all lessons are taught in English! 

In Malawi, primary education is provided free for all children up to 13 years old. However, to continue beyond this point even the Government schools are fee-paying, with fees of around $50 per term, which includes all uniform and books, etc. Whilst this seems comparatively cheap, a café worker who we discussed the system with told us this was equal to his monthly wage, working 5 days per week.   

More interesting than school... two tourists with a camera!

So, compared to the average child in the UK the difficulties faced here are significant. Providing a child can pass all their exams, and parents can afford the necessary uniform and equipment, a suitable education can be gained. The pupils then have the opportunity to go on to further training colleges and potentially decent job prospects. If the pupil stumbles at any of the numerous hurdles, and cannot afford the fees for a private school, their job prospects for the future will be seriously limited. 

For governments trying to provide for their ever increasing populations, the challenges are equally as difficult. Teachers come from a variety of backgrounds and have differing experience of education and teaching experience.  Governments have responded by creating teaching colleges, although, due to the backlog, many will continue in the classroom for several years before getting a place on a teaching course.

Milage Days

Our last blog entry left us in Mzuzu, a smallish town in Northern Malawi where we had managed to change our remaining dollars into the local currency at the favourable ‘black market’ rate of 250 Kwatcha to the dollar, favourable to the bank rate of around 165K. We aimed to make this cash last until Blantyre where we could get more dollars and a once again favourable exchange rate. As a result we had a fairly tight budget, so subsequently blew a large chunk of it at the town’s excellent Indian Restaurant, enjoying a long awaited change to our typical lunch on the road.

The afternoon cycle led us downhill from the relative coolness (and pouring rain) enjoyed at altitude to the shore of Lake Malawi. We took a detour to Nkata Bay, a reputed ‘backpacker haunt’ where we decided to spend a rest day, after being taken pity on by the guesthouse owner and offered a lakeside cabin for the usual price of a campsite. Here we enjoyed a long-awaited swim, and a free boat ride on the lake including some cliff diving, snorkelling and close up views of the fish eagles swooping in for some dried fish thrown out by our boat driver. Chatting to the other ‘backpackers and travellers’ we felt fairly removed from their experiences of Africa-  hopping from one idyllic tourist spot to the next, comparing their trips to ours with comments like “Oh yeah, I’m doing the same thing, but travelling by bus.” Not really the same at all then. 

Pad relaxing at Nkata Bay

The following morning, we dragged our bikes up the steep steps out of the resort. Feeling guilty after our lavish day of relaxation, we aimed to make recompense over the next few days with a target distance of 440km to Cape Maclear. The days were long, fairly monotonous, and made increasingly difficult by a persistent headwind. We enjoyed a variety of campsites- beneath a water tower in the town of Dwangwa (the only concealed patch of ground we could find), amongst the mud and thatched huts of an extended family where we provided the evening’s entertainment, then finally in the Lake Malawi National Park a few kilometres from our target destination. This was not down to lack of time, but a frugal money saving effort to avoid paying the £1 each campsite fee of the following two nights.

Snoozing out the monsoon rains

Instead of blow-by-blow accounts of those three days here’s a short summary on how to cycle 150km per day in the African heat:

4:45am- Alarm. 5 minute snooze, then breakfast of baby-food, peanut butter, milk powder and bananas (actually pretty tasty), pack tent up, load bikes and set off. 

5:45am- On the road, aim to cover 45-50km in the first couple of hours before the heat arrives.

7:45am- Second breakfast of tea (if we’re lucky) and bread rolls or mandazi (fried bready donuts).

8:15am- Another 2.5-3 hours cycling, aiming to take daily total to around 90-100km

11:00am- Stop for pre-lunch snack, usually chips, then rest down for lunch and daily game of chess. 

2:30pm- Back on the road for the afternoon session, usually broken by a soda stop and a few bananas. 

5:45pm- Veg shopping for dinner, start looking for suitable campsite.

6:00pm- Off the road, pitch tent, fire up the stove and cook dinner (rice or pasta, with tomatoes and onions, okra or peppers if we’re lucky)

8:00pm- Bedtime, try to read for a few minutes but generally asleep before a single page is turned.

Enter Malawi: First Impressions

Fifty is the most important number for us today. Its 50 days since we set off cycling from Kampala, Uganda, a journey that so far has taken us through Rwanda, Tanzania and, as of six days ago, Malawi. For all of these countries 50 is also an important number. Tanzania celebrated 50 years of Independence in December 2011, Rwanda and Uganda will follow suit in 2012 and Malawi a couple of years later. 50,000 is also the number of Kwacha (Malawian currency) that we could get for the $200 that we changed today on the Mzuzu blackmarket. The exception to the rule is the number 4000, which represents the number of kilometers we have so far cycled, as of this morning’s arrival in Mzuzu.

We left Tanzania last Wednesday with a tinge of sadness, the county had been good to us in many ways. There had been breathtaking landscapes and close animal encounters. We had built a strong routine of morning chai and rice or ugali lunches and there was always a plentiful supply of fruit and veg for our evening meals. The country and people, I felt, had a palpable sense of optimism and opportunity, physically represented by the homes and businesses which grew on most street corners. The African Leopard to the Asian Tiger. We entered Malawi with a certain naivety; we had been warned of sporadic fuel shortages and, from a recent Guardian article, the dubious exploits and policy of, to use his official title, His Excellency President Professor Bingu wa Matharika. Arguably nothing terribly unusual for an African country.

As we crossed the border into Malawi we expected little to change but at the same time we were alert, keen to form our first impressions of the new country. Most notably for us the road, compared to a relatively busy stretch in Tanzania, the M1 of Malawi was almost devoid of cars, buses or trucks. Instead it was a footpath, used preferentially by bikes, people and carts. A matatu or taxi may slip past every 5-10 minutes or so, but these were a secondary use. From the hills of Tanzania we had come to expect brick houses, with corrugated roofs, while here thatch and wattle predomidated and barefoot children streamed towards us shouting “money, money, money”. Perhaps our heightened senses detected more of a change, and first impressions are rash in their nature, but life did feel more basic than the Tanzania we had left. We reserved our judgement, after all from the humble beginnings of our journey in Tanzania we had found a bountiful country.

Some way still to go...

The first major town we arrived in was Karonga where we planned to stock up on food and cash. We stopped at the road side “People’s Superette”. Excited by the size and grand looking chain store, I urged Rick to “get whatever look’s nice”. A few minutes later Rick returned with two 500ml bottles of water and two expensive packs of biscuits. Although the shelves were full, the variety was worse than a roadside grocery we had experienced so far. We headed into town for cash and further investigation and, after a visit to the local market, eventually came out with our good for the evening and some cash for the next few days. After the rigours of mountain climbing over the past few days, our plan was to make our way to hilltop retreat of Livingstonia the next day. Despite a relatively relaxing morning of downhill I was shattered and had to force myself to eat dinner before turning in for the night.

Sleep however is a magical thing, and the next morning we were crushing our way down the M1 slipstreaming a speedy Malawian cyclist, excited at the thought of rest days ahead.  About mid-morning brought a technical failure. All through our cycle locals have been amazed by our tyres; how can they keep going for so long! After a blow out and a tyre inspection we found my tyre has split in 3 places, luckily we had a spare tyre so after 40 minutes we were back on the road, and arrived at the base of the Livingstonia escarpment. 

Grinding up Livingstone escarpment

Following two reports of an impossible climb, requiring at least a 4x4 (if not a helicopter), we had convinced each other that we should hitch up the hill to our campsite at Mushroom farm. As we sat over lunch we watched and waited for vehicles, and surveyed the hill. None came and our impatience got the better of us, and an hour and a half later we were 750m above the lake. Perhaps it was the endorphins, the thought of a rest day or just the incredible views, but we felt more refreshed then than during the last tired couple of days. We relaxed that evening over a couple of well-earned beers, in a hammock over looking Lake Malawi. A view which provided nightly light shows of lightening storms and latterned fisherman below. And, after I recieved some good news about a job offer, it was a position we weren’t keen to move from, and we spent the next couple of days in the same camp, exploring Livingstonia and the local Chombe Plateau.  

Relaxing on Chombe Plateau, with dog

A well worn spot on the Malawi tourist map, Livingstone was one of the first missions to East Africa, established by Dr Robert Laws in 1894 in a mission to bring “Commerce, Civilisation and Christianity” to the area. Today it is a quaint hill-top town which, on the surface, represents a Malawian Utopia, lines of Pine shade the street and beautiful brick houses, neatly laid out on the road toward the Hospital , Technical College and Church. The town is meant to be dry, although littered “Tyson” and “Black Punch” packets tell a different story.  We wandered to the Stone House museum, one of the original mission houses, the house felt (and smelt) like a Spartan Scottish guest house. The museum told the story of missionary arrival and their role in abolishing the slave trade, although the oddest museum piece was definitely the actual crockery and cultlery used by the Zambian President during his visit in 1978.

Sunrise at Mushroom Farm

Over dinner that evening we heard a little more about the situation in Malawi. Started by governmental control of foreign currency transaction, food prices have doubled over the past two years as inflation has taken hold. This is then compounded by the inability of Malawian companies getting hold of foreign exchange to import goods. The prime example being oil, no oil at the pumps means no distribution of goods and hence higher prices. It’s a sad situation underpinned by weak economic policy, all those present that evening felt that Malawi had regressed significantly over the past two years, since the re-election of His Excellency.

For us however, things weren’t going to be so bad, empty roads and hugely inflated exchange rates ($1 is 250 Kwacha, instead of 160) for the dollar play well into our hands. The last couple of days were spent negotiating some more off-road tracks back on the M1 to our town destination of Mzuzu where we will stock up for the next journey to Blantyre, arriving on the 29^th March.

The Last Hill in Tanzania

We left Morogoro feeling fully refreshed and clean after our stay with Kelly and Deon. Soon after leaving we crossed the 3000km mark, marking approximately the mid-way point of our trip. We enjoyed a short 70km afternoon ride to the edge of the Mikumi National Park, where pitched up for the night beneath an incredible full moon, and considered the numerous predators in the local vicinity. 

Mikumi is the only National Park in Tanzania that has a main road running straight through it’s centre. As a result, providing you are only passing through, no entrance fees are charged and we could enjoy a morning cycle safari across the 50km park. Home to all the big names in African safari it promised to be an exciting morning. In two minds about the prospect of seeing lions, we adopted a leisurely pace and kept our eyes peeled. We spotted numerous giraffe, zebra, elephants, gazelle and impala, and despite the warnings of ‘game viewing’ being strictly for paying visitors we found ourselves stopping for a few ‘rests’ at opportune moments. Interesting to note was the animals alarm at seeing bikes, and quickly scampered into the bush as they saw us approaching, however remained completely un-phased by the lorries and buses screaming past at top speed. 

Roadside game viewing in Mikumi

After our cycle safari we reached a real campsite, where we rested for the afternoon and came across our first other cycle tourers, and then shortly after our second. The first were a Swedish couple, cycling North from South Africa towards Ethiopia, who we swapped notes with on the various countries and routes we had passed through and gleaned some valuable info on Mozambique, through which they had already passed. The second was a solo Swiss cyclist who appeared to be in his 60’s, who had already cycled Alaska to the Tierra del Fuego, and was now heading North through Africa. He seemed concerned that we had just cycled across Mikumi NP, and equally surprised that the Swedes had come through Mozambique. He carried no tent, as he usually opted to sleep in deserted buildings or out in the open, and between ourselves and the Swedes we agreed his priorities with regards personal safety were a little warped after so long on the road! 

Our first full day on tarmac since Western Tanzania was an opportunity to see how our fitness has improved over the course of the trip, and without dirt roads/mud baths to contend with, we were keen to see what we could manage. We received warnings from the Swedes of “200km like this / “, as we would have to climb a good 1000m out of the Rift Valley towards the end of the day. By lunchtime we had already covered 95km, and stopped to enjoy chip omelet and roasted meat from the less-than-hygienic looking butchers shop. 

The classic tree-stump chopping block

The climb that afternoon was indeed ‘fairly hard’, but thanks to the Swedes exaggerations we reached the top in good spirits, having avoided the temptation and numerous offers of ‘skitches’ from the passing lorry drivers. We found a nicely concealed camping spot, and after 7 hours in the saddle, and a personal record 146km, were happy to crash to sleep. 

The next day, with sore bodies and aching legs, we headed on to the Old Farmhouse at Kisolanza. We had been recommended this spot for a restday and after 7 days straight it was not a moment too soon. The 100km passed uneventfully, with the exception of a record breaking skitch as I grabbed onto a lorry to catch Pad up who was cruising a few minutes ahead. His surprise was evident as I hurtled past at 76km/h with the cry of “Lightweight Buddy!”. Box ticked, never again!

The main attraction of the farm was its high altitude and cooler weather, which after the heat of the beach and lowlands we enjoyed immensely. Desperate to introduce some variety to our diet we managed to find some rhubarb for sale on the farm, and spent the afternoon making our very own rhubarb crumble- if only we had some custard, or even an oven to bake it in. Nevertheless, it was a delicious change to rice and meat with a little sauce. 

Cycling on from the farm, at an altitude of 2000m, we could have been back in the UK. Cold air, and low mist clinging to the pine trees made for a very agreeable alternative to baking in the heat. Refreshed after the rest day, and again enjoying the apparent ease of the tarmac, we had covered 100km by lunchtime. The afternoon was a little more relaxed, as we lost our valuable altitude and cruised for over 30km back down towards the plains, through what appeared to be sunflower growing territory. 

Traditional dwelling, sunflower farming and Game Reserve in distance

We found another perfect camping spot atop one of the small hills, with views of Kikoli National Park to the South and another large Game Reserve to the North, however had to do a small loop past it and back to allow the speedometer to tick over 150km for that day- another new record! A passing local recounted an elephant rampaging through the nearby village last week, and warned that we should be on the look out. The night, however, passed without any visitors. 

Our last full day in Tanzania was again to be a long and tough one. After the decent of the previous day, a mountain range and 2000m pass lay between us and Malawi. We cycled along the flat plains, as the looming range grew closer, and stopped for lunch before launching into the climb. Shortly into the climb, my bike made a disconcerting cracking noise, followed by the clang of broken metal hitting the road. Fortunately it was only the rail on my saddle snapping, nothing critical, but I have since been riding on an unusually angled saddle! The climb was relentless, with the only saving grace being the drop in temperature as we climbed, and the fact that with our heavy loads, pushing is at least as hard as peddling. As evening drew close, we were still hauling up the final section to the pass with our lungs and legs screaming. If I count my breaths I don’t have to think about the pain. 200 breaths to the top, 100 more, and then we were there- on top of the last hill in Tanzania, with staggering views of the plains below, scarcely believing we had been on those plains only a few hours earlier. 

A small wooded area provided a suitable campsite, and after our hard day we were rewarded with a massive thunderstorm, cooking dinner in the rain, and an invasion of ants whose nest I had just stepped in.

Pad hits 'mach ten' on the descent to Malawi

Our final morning in Tanzania was considerably easier than the day before, descending 1250m from the pass to the boarder over a very cruisey 75km. It was an opportunity to enjoy the scenery, and cast our minds back to our arrival in Western Tanzania some 2500km ago, and our experiences and undertakings since. I’ll remember Tanzania with great fondness- friendly and welcoming locals, wild and wonderful scenery and lots of rice with a little meat and sauce!

Off-Roading

After the ‘almost rest day’ at Irente Farm, we were once again ready to make life difficult for ourselves. An hour down the road we stopped for chai in the small town of Soni. From here we had two options: A 20km cruise downhill on tarmac, descending 1200 vertical metres back to the main road, OR take a left onto a dirt track and wind off-road taking the peaks of the West Usambara Range head on. Needless to say the easy option seemed too easy, so off we went up the steep and muddy track.

Paddy charges up a steep section!

Two hours later we were still climbing, sweating profusely and cursing our decision. Some 500m above Soni, we were now at an estimated 1750m altitude, but the tropical cloud forest provided enough humidity to counteract the cool air we had hoped for. We continued South, enjoying some wild downhills and the most technical and rugged ground my poor bike has ever had to suffer, interspersed with more hard, steep and muddy climbs. The villages we passed through were far removed from any Western commodities, and our bland lunch of Ugali and dried fish, sped us on our way with little to hang around for. As we descended we entered tea plantations and stopped for a break, watching the ‘pickers’ hard at work in the fields below. The boisterous women jovially shouted up at us asking for money, and as Paddy got changed what can only be the Swahili equivalent of ‘Take it off!’.

Afternoon entertainment for the tea pickers

By mid-afternoon, still grinding along some 1000m above the road we were aiming for, the rains arrived, turning dirt tracks to mud,. Whilst this was refreshingly cool we soon resembled drowned rates and our progress slowed further. The last 10km descent was a bumpy, bone-shaking, brake-wearing battle, but we eventually made it to the main road and enjoyed a fresh coconut from a local vendor, who told us it was only 2km to the town. He was wrong of course, and 40 minutes later as darkness descended we made it into town where we retired to a guesthouse to wash out bikes, clothes and filthy bodies. 

After the slow progress of the previous day we were glad to be back on road and making fast progress towards the coast. As we approached sea level, the heat intensified and with zero cloud cover we felt ourselves cooking as we cycled along. With tired legs after yesterday’s exertion we were relieved to find smooth roads and gentle inclines. 30km from our destination we branched off the main road again, once more bouncing over the stones, our motivation provided by the prospect of a dip in the sea and a seafood platter for dinner at our target campsite. We finally arrived just before sunset, fully exhausted and ready for a rest day, which involved nothing more than a bit of bike maintenance and a lot of snoozing in the shade (and another seafood platter!).

We had revised our route due to the early arrival of the monsoon season, and chose to head South down the coast, instead of back inland to the washed out roads we had intended to take. Our only obstacle was the Saadani Nation Park where we might be stung for park entrance fees, or forced to take a bus across due to the presence of ‘game’ in the area.

After an early start, a bumpy 60km down the coastal road and a short ferry crossing , we arrived in Mkwaje, a dusty dead-end town in time for lunch. Despite being on the coast, our only lunch option was a bland choice of Ugali and dried fish. We intended to cross the park mid-afternoon, when any predators might be at their least active. We crossed unscathed, pausing for shade breaks every 30 minutes from the immense heat, only meeting Park Wardens on the far side, who thankfully didn’t seem concerned with parting us from our dollars for park entrance fees.

The ferry across Pangani estuary

We cycled on from the park as the sun lowered in the sky and the heat started to dissipate. As is always the case, after being presented with an abundance of camping options an hour before dusk, by 6:30 and time to pitch up there was nothing but small villages, subsistence farming and elephant grass. We stopped to take stock, and some passing locals told us the large commercial farm to our right was a run by a Mzunghu (white man). We took our chance and were met by the Zimbabwean farm manager Keith, who welcomed us in, and later after enjoying a much needed shower, we met Rory and Sabrina who were running the project. The farm had been derelict for a number of years and the land reclaimed by the bush, and they were in the process of restoring it to commercial operation, employing some 150 of the local community in the process. They were very welcoming and provided us with dinner and a comfortable night’s sleep in their tents with beds (and pillows!).

Over a hearty pancake breakfast the following morning, Rory gave us details of a short-cut, which would cut a 50km corner off our dirt track on the way back to the main road. After a long breakfast we headed off later than usual- keen to make up time before the heat of the day set in. Within 20 minutes, my wheel, in protest of the abuse suffered over the past few hundred kilometers suddenly gave way with 4 spokes snapping in quick succession, resulting in the wheel becoming somewhat ovalised (or is that ovulated?). Unable to run the risk of my wheel collapsing completely, I retired to the shade of a tree while Paddy returned to the nearest village for assistance. He returned 30 minutes later, having commandeered a 3 tonne lorry and driver. We took my bike back to the village and with some tools borrowed from the locals managed to remove my cassette and replace the spokes with the four spares that I had bought on my final morning before leaving the UK.

The local bicycle repair shop

We had lost a full morning riding, but after lunch we headed on confident that with the short cut we could make up ground and be back on the road by evening. An hour later, we slipped, skidded and cursed as we pushed out bikes through mud resembling half-set cement, our bikes barely visible beneath the layers of stodgy dirt. It became clearly apparent why they use this type of dirt to build their houses in these parts! As the dark clouds threatened more rain and even slower progress we reminded ourselves of the old adage “A short-cut is supposed to be difficult, if it wasn’t it would just be ‘The Way’”. After the mud we reached the sand section, which was passable providing you kept your speed up- constantly running the risk of being bucked off in a deeper than expected sand drift. The sand nicely coated the cement/mud, and with every crunch of the gears we feared the damage we were doing to our chainsets. It was incredibly hard going, but wet, muddy, exhausted and half-lost we were having a great time and relished the impossibility of it all! If we had wanted it to be easy we would have stayed in Europe (or on the tarmac at least!).

There's some brakes under there somewhere

We finally reached the ‘truck-stop town’ where the dirt rejoined the tarmac road. It was past nightfall and we once again checked into a guesthouse to clean ourselves and our bikes up. At £1 a night each it was really scrapping the barrel- communally showering (from buckets) in the courtyard with three generations of the owners family. We vowed to be up and away ASAP in the morning.

Back on tarmac seemed like a breeze, and thanks to our 5:45 start we made good ground, with only one shortcut left to take. Are we suffering from amnesia, or just becoming masochistic? Either way, another 2 hard hours ensued, brightened up by a chameleon we found/nearly ran over along the way. On returning to the main road, we enjoyed the kind of lunch we had been missing for the past week (due to the lack of restaurants in the middle of nowhere!). 

We had been given the details of Rory’s sister Kelly, who lives with her husband Deon in Morogoro- our next target town. We texted ahead to see about the chance of putting us up for the night, and were encouraged to learn that we were most welcome, they would have dinner ready for us, and to our utter delight, that they had a pool! This was all the motivation we needed, and we charged onwards through the afternoon heat, arriving somewhat overwhelmed by the generosity and openness with which we were greeted. Every need met, including the use of a washing machine, we retired for a seriously good night’s sleep.

Moshi to Irente: Getting going again

After a few weeks away from the bikes we both returned slightly apprehensive. At the outset in Kampala we had been swept along in a wave of nervous anticipation, awaiting the headlong rush into the unknown. In Moshi, after our three week break, we knew our harsh realities – long hot, tiring days in the saddle, dirty clothes and lacklustre food. The rewards we sought were out there but they would only come if we could be determined enough to stick it out.

We left on a damp Sunday morning on 26^th February, slipping quietly past the runners and supporters of the Moshi  Marathon, the well-established event now into its 12^th year. Their sports nutrition resembled our own, as water stations handed sugary Coke to passing competitors. Our route over the next few days would take in the agricultural side of Northern Tanzania, passing large sugar cane and sisal plantations, before climbing into the fruit-bearing hills of the Usambaras.

Keen to avoid the busy main roads we headed directly south out of Moshi, into the huge 16,000 hectare Tanganyika Planting Company (TPC) sugar cane plantation. The heavy smell of burnt sugar and rising steam from the overnight rain and irrigation gave the feel of a sweaty kitchen to our mornings ride. Despite being a Sunday work was in full swing as we followed the locomotives down the narrow gauge railway to the factory. We took at left at the main village, complete with company golf club, and after a couple of hours on a sand track we popped out on the main road. Unfortunately the three week break had left Rick feeling the effects of the dodgy Kenyan cooking, and combined with a measly rice and beans lunch, we took the decision to break for an early camp. Opportunity arrived early as we found a spot next to the disused Tanga – Arusha railway, hidden from view by the stiff fronds our first sisal plantation. Sisal has had mixed fortunes over the years, initially essential to make rope it was superseded by plastics, however the last couple of years have seen a resurgence and once lifeless and unprofitable plantations are enjoying a long-awaited renaissance.

The narrow gauge line was first built by the Germans in 1911 (colonial rulers at the time) to transport coffee, tea and sisal to the port of Tanga. Work was interrupted by the arrival of the first world war and following a change of rule, the line was completed and extended by the British. Over recent decades the lines have fallen into various states of disrepair making it impassable. However there are plans for an overhaul and further extension. In a bid to compete with ports in Dar and Mombasa, the plans is for a $1.9 billion line linking Tanga to the Lake Victoria port of Musoma, an onward by sea to Uganda. Tendering has been won by a Chinese company, so we expect to see results in the coming years! For the moment, the line proved a useful walkway and grazing ground for local cattle herders, and a pleasant overnight camping spot for us.

Camp by the Tanga - Arusha railway

Feeling much refreshed we woke to stunning views of Mt Kilimanjaro to the North, and the Pare Mountains to the East. The 2000m peaks of the Pare mountains represent a string of mountains along the Tanzanian and Kenyan coastline which are unique in this region as they are not volcanic, instead being formed from the uplift of the Africa land mass over the Indian Ocean tectonic plate. In keeping with our overarching flexibility, the plan for the day was yet to be decided – the main road or an off-road detour? Things became much simpler a few kms in as we felt the first breaths of an ever stiffening breeze. “Strong Winds for next 100km” warned one of several signs. Our speed capped at 22kp/h downhill we dug in for 30km until our turning at Same junction, where we hung a left towards the Mkomazi National Park. Similar to the Serengeti and the Masai Mara, Tanzania’s newest park sits aside the Tsavo on the border with Kenya, and is home one of the few remaining packs of African Wild Dogs, as well as newly imported Rhino. Our loop skirted the edge of the park and circumnavigated the formidable looking Mt Shengena (2462m), to bring us back to the main road the next day. The route took us through a refreshing series of scenery changes, from bushland to forest and sisal plantation to rice paddies. We took the high ground that night and camped at the base of a telephone mast. With a little concern we watched thunderstorms dance across the horizon and asked the resident security guard if they might come our way.

“No, they are all going the other way!”  he reassured us.

Sure enough a few hours into the hot and sticky night we were caught in a torrential downpour, which a mixed blessing which cooled us off considerably, but left us a little bit damp in patches.

It wasn't a tailwind

We arrived back on the main road with a pleasant surprise awaiting us. The wind had turned and we had a strong tail to send us on our way to Mombo, the gateway into the Usambara’s. At this point it’s useful for a reader to know that our map is German, and therefore is reassuringly accurate. However, at a scale of 1:1,250,000 and with contour lines of 500m there is only so much that Germany can help us, and that afternoon was a case in point as what looked like about 1000 meters of climbing proved to be a bit more…

Looking back down the valley

We arrived in Lushoto, 5km short of our original aim of Irente Biodiversity reserve, half an hour after darkness had set in and explained our afternoons efforts to the Greek owner of the Lawns Hotel, the first camping site our head torches had picked out on our arrival.

“Yes, that is a long way. Mombo is at 150m and here we are 1450m”.

Having crossed another smaller pass in the middle of that climb, what had looked like 1000m turned out to be well over 1500m, a hard day’s work in any Alpine climbers books. Exhausted and feeling the aches of our day we digested the afternoon efforts over a couple of cold beers and a three course meal in the hotel bar.  Despite the extremes of exertion, the climb had given us some stunning views, the road had wound through a long valley before emerging into the heart of the Usambaras at Soni. Although we had initially the heat had felt oppressive the height had cooled us off and encouragement from passing locals (and monkeys) had cooled us off. Needless to say we slept soundly well into the next morning.

Looking like we feel at top of climb

Eating into our rest morning, we completed the final 5km to Irente where we were greeted by Annette Murless and some locally produced jams, chutneys and cheeses. The Lutheran mission uses profit from tourism and food processing to help protect the natural habitat of the mountains. It is undoubtedly a worthy cause. The Usambara’s are one of 25 world biodiversity sites, they have over 600 tree species alone (compared with 58 in all of Northern Europe) of which 25% are endemic. The key to this diversity is age, over 100 million years ago the forest separated from the Congo basin ecosystem making creating an ancient island ecosystem surrounded by savannah.

1000m's below is a headwind

We wiled away our afternoon and took a short walk to a spectacular 1000m view over the plains below, making it back just in time to shelter from another thunderstorm, and with the help of map donated by Annette, we planned our route off the mountains the next day.