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! 

Cape MacClear to Blantyre: End of Stage 2

Despite the 1000 km that we have cycled through Malawi, we have emerged in the commercial capital of Blantyre feeling recuperated and rested. The feeling is down to a mixture of time, we have had longer to cover less ground, and perhaps, after two months on the road, our bodies are finally getting used to 6 hours of cycling per day

Having said that as we arrived into Cape MacClear one week ago, after 440 km over three days, I wouldn’t have said the same, we were much in need of a rest. The cove faces north-east on the spit of Lake Malawi National park, and as a result is sheltered from most of the prevailing winds and faces the setting sun. Although the National Park includes much of the land on the Cape (and is home to antelope, deer and, apparently, the odd leopard and elephant), the preservation is most pertinent under water. Lake Malawi is the most diverse freshwater lake in the world and is home to over 600 species of fish, over 200 of which are endemic. Indeed a whole family of fish, the Cichlids (‘sick-lids’) are only found in the lake. Although an unlikely comparison, the diversity places it on a par with the Galapagos Islands. Whether it was one of these factors, or something else entirely, that inspired Dr Robert Laws to create his first mission there is unclear. Nevertheless, the mission’s time there was short-lived, as malaria drove him ultimately to the higher climes of Livingstonia. 

Fish markets in Chembe

We arrived from our overnight campsite to a slightly bewildered campsite owner, not quite sure how we had made it so early, and settled in quickly to our rest routine for the next two days. In the village of Chembe, campsites and guesthouses are pleasantly intermingled with local houses and shops along the beach shore meaning that we never needed to stray further than a few hundred metres from our campsite in search of anything;  a convenient teashop offered sweet tea and ‘scones’ (a bread roll), and ‘McDonalds’ provided cheap and tasty chips. As with many of our rest days, daily life revolved around foraging and gathering food, which in Cape MacClear meant we could get fresh fish.  In fact, it couldn’t have got much fresher for one unlucky fish, as from being hooked by a local lad on the beach to sizzling on our barbeque took under an hour. 

One hour later...

After two days we were ready to move on, heading directly South towards Zomba, and our ultimate destination of Blantyre. Early on the Monday morning of the 26^th March, my bike limped its way over the hills of the national park, and to the tarmac of the Blantyre road. The rubber had started to split along the inside of my tyre, creating a herniation which I could feel on every revolution, although we had thought local tyres would fit, it turned out that that they are made for wider rims – so didn’t. It made for a nervous three days to Blantyre, hoping the tyre would split entirely and burst the inner tube… 

We allowed two days for approximately 200k to Zomba, so were in no hurry. For the first day we strolled lazily along the flat road, the only moment of excitement coming during our night’s camp in a roadside field. Shortly after getting to sleep we were woken by a man in a trench coat, holding an umbrella. He demanded to know who we were and what we were doing, sleepily we gave a short summary of our ‘mission’ and explained to him we were just camping here and would be gone in the morning. Still slightly confused but seemingly satisfied he explained that he was the Chief of the local village, who were very concerned, having seen lights in the field, that they were to be invaded. We could safely reassure him we posed no threat, although unless we were attacking with water pistols, I’m not exactly sure how he was planning on protecting the village. 

As if we needed reminding of what hills were like, the road slowly started to climb toward Zomba but thankfully did little to trouble us from the relative comfort of our bikes and we rolled on. The two lazy days allowed time to reflect on life on a bike, a life that has really become the norm for us. Like most travellers we pass through towns relatively quickly, striking up friendships and seeing the sights before moving on to the next spot. On a bike however, the journey feels as much a part of the experience as the end-points, whether it’s smelling the burning sugar cane of the Illovo sugar factory, tasting the sweet roadside maize drinks or cycling alongside a flying Hammercop bird feeding off the early morning insects on the road. In our efforts to save weight (and more recently money, our budget was only allowing $5 each/day for the past two weeks), we enjoy living simply; it’s a challenge to remember the last time we had a chocolate bar, or other luxury items. 

We reached leafy suburbs of Zomba town on the by lunchtime on our second day. The capital of Malawi for almost 100 years until the mid 1970’s, it still bears the hallmarks of faded colonial glories. Grand administrative buildings, a golf course and large, now slightly flaky houses stream up the hillside toward the plateau. The town has retains an affluent feel in comparison to much of what we had seen, there is an outpost of the University of Malawi, and it’s pleasant atmosphere no doubt helped attract several NGO’s to base themselves in town. I felt slightly bewildered cycling around town, having to deal with the first semblance of road traffic for the first time in two weeks.  

After a sleepy lunch and buying of provisions, we chose to head up to the plateau, having gathered reports of between 4 and 20 km of climbing to get there, not an unusual range of guesses for a set distance in our experience. Ultimately it was 10 km of steep tarmac, imaginatively cut into almost sheer cliff which delivered us to the trout farm campsite, from where we could explore the forested plateau and eek out the best from the few remaining Kwacha (local currency) we had left. During our climb we had a comedy meeting with a Danish couple we had met in Cape McClear, who had offered us an evening out in Maputo, their home town. In Cape McClear they had felt inspired by our bikes and started planning a bike trip across South America themselves, seeing us sweating up the steep climb however, they had started to reconsider in favour of more motorised alternatives…!

Relaxing at Queens viewpoint

After our final rest day, we sped down the mountain towards Blantyre, with a feeling of excitement and anticipation. In 70 km we would reach the end of our second stage. A stage that in just over a month had taken us from a home in Moshi, over the rugged terrain of Usambaras, though the baking coastal heat of Pangani, back across the Rift Valley toward Mbeya and finally hugging the cooler waters down western shores of Lake Malawi. This second stage of our journey been a real pleasure, during which we have become accustomed to the physical and mental challenges of a long distance bike journey, and have had the time to relax and take in the countryside and its people.  

Arriving in Blantyre, end of Stage 2

Blantyre was the first major city since Arusha, and early on exhibited many of the hallmarks of a big city. The ever present face of His Excellency Bingu smiled down from billboards, while shopping malls and industrial parks lined the road, ranging from the colourful ‘Rainbow Plastics’ to the smelly poultry farms.  We were extremely fortunate to be kindly received by a family whom we had met in Cape McClear. It was another example of the stunning trust and kindness that we have met all the way along our journey, from the smallest local subsitence farmers, to the biggest of landowners we have been welcomed. After an afternoon exploring the city, and once again doing our blackmarket money changing, we sat down for a lovely dinner happy to feel part of a family for a night. 

We now look forward to our final stage, and the arrival of our third team member, Gunnar Kornberg from Norway. It’s a month that will take in more of the superlatives of the continent: First of all we take on the dizzy heights of Mt Mulanje – the highest mountain in Malawi (hoping not to repeat our mistakes of Mt Hanang…); then to Zambezi valley of Tete in Mozambique, reputably the hottest city in Africa; and then onto the beaches of Southern Mozambique, home to some of the best surfing beaches in Africa. 

Finally, a big thank you to all those who have donated so far.  As Rick mentioned, all through Malawi we have enjoyed the benefits of clean water from roadside pumps, which for local villagers are an essential part of daily life. The experience has certainly made us believe in the importance and worthiness of our fundraising for WaterAid which we hope we have impressed upon you.