Africa Friendship Safari '10 - Angola

[Leo]

The 2010 Africa Friendship safari (AFS) has happened and all that remains now is to dream about all those days in the saddle and regret the fact that one has to sit in an office and earn a daily. However allow me the opportunity to give our sponsors some credit for their contribution in making this event a reality.

The Bearing Man Group is a market leader in terms of bearings, seals, conveyor belts, etc and certainly needs no introduction to anyone who has ever attempted to work on his / her bike

Jenfit is a Pretoria based company and specializes in plastic injection moulding – specifically high pressure fittings.

Kerridge Commercial Systems through their K8 software is a market leader in integrated point of sale systems.

 

[Leo]

Africa Friendship Safari 2010

This was damn hard work. Being in the peak physical condition that I am, like most middle aged white males I know, dragging this overweight GS up the mountain was taking its strain on mind & body. We had been riding for one and a half hours, OK, maybe riding is the wrong choice of word, we had been going for one and a half hours, yet the spot where we camped last night was still clearly visible to us. Shaun and I were tugging at the tow ropes tied to either side of the big GS while Basil was piloting his unwilling beast, stones being catapulted down the mountain from under its rear wheel as it was struggling to find grip on the steep rocky incline. We had turned off the main road the night before to visit the spectacularly beautiful Bingo Bay on the Angolan coast, approximately 12 km’s from the main road going north and the road leading there is definitely red route material. Yet when we descended down into Bingo Bay the afternoon before, somehow the road did not seem as steep as it turned out to be now that we were trying to leave. Yes Africa had thrown us a curve ball, like it always does and we had to deal with it as best we could. Teamwork was the order of the day and eventually with lots of effort and assistance all six bikes were parked on the highest point leading away from Binga Bay. We still had another 12 km of challenging ride, where several tumbles would be encountered and bikes were damaged, but as is customary, I am getting carried away, so let me start from the beginning.

The 2010 edition of the Africa Friendship Safari was visiting Angola and a bit of Namibia. In our planning phase we decided to trailer our bikes to the Angolan border with Namibia which would save us 2300km of hard riding just to get there. Our group consisted of Basil, Antonie and myself all on R1200GSA’s, Shaun on a R1150 Adv, Glen on the new Super Tenere and Excalibur on his trusty old R1200GS. So with lots of huff and puff we loaded the bikes onto a rental trailer on the eve of 8 June at Excalibur’s house - he and a driver were going to leave early the next day and take our bikes to Ondangwa in northern Namibia where we would meet on the Saturday and continue our Angolan experience. Regular updates from his side kept us informed of their progress and all was on track as planned. Life was sweet!

The group of friends for this event with John the driver who delivered all our bikes safely.

Our bikes on the trailer

Friday afternoon, 11 June 2010 while South Africa and the rest of the world it seemed, headed for soccer city, we headed for OR Tambo international airport to fly to Windhoek. We managed to catch the last bit of the opening game and although Bafana Bafana did us proud, our minds were occupied with other things. From the Hosea Kotaku airport we made our way to Windhoek in a rental and headed straight for Joe’s Beer house. Well nothing more needs to be said about that place that has not already been said, so after we had stuffed ourselves on some of the finest Eisbein’s ever eaten we searched for a place to sleep, to try to get some eye close before we had to catch our plain the next morning at 7 am from Eros airport to Ondangwa.

In the plain from Eros to Ondangwa. Excitement was the order of the day.

By 5 am we were up and having a hot beverage, by 6:30 am we were heading for our plane, army style food parcel in hand as there were no air hostess on this little 19 seater plane. At 8:30 we touched down in Ondangwa where Excalibur and John were waiting with our bikes still neatly and safely parked on the trailer. A hype of activities ensued as we unloaded all bikes, and everyone packed their bike as he had planned for the trip. By 10 am John was send back to SA to return the trailer while we finished the last few matters in Ondangwa before heading for the Oshikango border post. A last meal in Oshikango saw us arriving at the border post around 2 pm where we expected to spend an hour of two. Well we eventually left the border post around 4:30 after a very frustrating ±3 hours where we had to submit every possible letter, invitation letter, copies of our licenses, and copies of our passports, copies of our visas and copies of everything imaginable except our fingerprints.

The last photo Excalibur took before he donated his camera to charity. Sorry my friend

Expect to spend a few hours when you arrive at these windows – customs on the Angolan side

Most important we had a very official looking form that said we could visit the whole of Angola and not just a specific province or region. It seems personnel movement in Angola is a strictly monitored business and no fooling around was permitted. Excalibur also decided do donate his camera to the redistribution of wealth fund, right from under his nose – sorry about that one my friend, they seem to target you for no apparent reason. Hell those tsotsies are skelm fcukers! We also exchanged some money for Kwansas and managed to get ± Kzn 13 for R1 and ± R97 for U$1. The road to Ondjiva was uneventful to say the least and here we filled up as we were heading due north east towards Mupa and fuel stops were going to be few and far between. Pleasant surprise as fuel cost Kzn 40 per litre – that’s about R3.07 per litre. Like fools we had filled up in Ondangwa as we were unsure what to expect, but that was in the past. From here we headed east on a road that Tracks4Africa noted as “Very sandy and landmines”. I was told to keep my speed above 90km/h as that would ensure the landmine explodes behind my bike. Needles to say all fear was in vain as the road was under contraction by Chinese and the broad gravel road made for speedy travelling. Here we saw our first of several tank wrecks and as most of us were ex armour soldiers we took a keen interest in inspecting the wreck and how, where and possibly with what it was destroyed.

Interesting wrecks along the way

Another that did not survive the SA onslaught

Several wrecks later saw us arriving at the bustling metropolis of Nahone as the sun was starting to say good night. Glen has got limited Portuguese speaking abilities and along with his Portuguese phrase book we convinced the local policemen to allow us to camp inside the local school grounds which were nicely fenced in and only allowed access through one small gate. Excalibur did himself proud with his cooking abilities, and we went to bed well fed and comfortable in the knowledge that the safari was now well and truly under way.

Our “campsite the first night

This humour on Glen’s ST would turn around and bite him later on the trip

Sunday morning we rose to a splendid morning with a slight crisp, high spirited and ready to tackle the day with vigour. From Nahone the road turned due north towards Evale and eventually Mupa which was one of the towns we wanted to visit. We managed to locate the old farm house where Glen spend a lot of time during the border war fixing, preparing and maintaining captured Russian T54/55 tanks before driving them back to the Namibian border where SA manufacturing companies would take procession and see what could be copied, or used for future development.

Outside Mupa

 

[Leo]

Our road had turned into a sand trap and as we pulled into Cuvelai our physical resources were well and truly put to the test. A local policeman insisted we go to meet the local provincial administrator and report our whereabouts, but we somehow managed to convince him that it would be easier to bring the man to us, than for us to haul 6 loaded bikes around town just to go and see one individual.

As a young soldier at the age of 19, Glen spend several weeks sleeping in this room – really a trip down memory lane

The farm house outside Mupa where Glen stayed during the border war

The policemen later returned and commented that the administrator was already aware of us as the man from Ondjiva had called him and informed him of our movements. Well Cuvelai or Kuvelai as the locals spell it had a restaurant called Pappa Maick where we sat down with the matron of this fine establishment and had a cold coke and lots of “Aqua Minerale” (Mineral Water) while a sea of locals gathered around the perimeter of the establishment to watch our every single move.

Papa Maich in Cuvelai

The bridge over the Kuvelai river

From here the road got “more” interesting and our progress was slow to say the least. What was indicated on the GPS as an “other road” offered, sand, rocks, muddy saunas but mostly sand. We soon discovered that the local taxis – millions of small 50 – 250cc motorbikes imported from China by the millions, made little “alternative” routes around the sandy patches but one had to take care as occasionally these little tracks would lead off to a local village or would go between trees so close to one another that a loaded GS could not pass through. So we followed these “woer woer” tracks and as soon as they veered more than 100 meters of the “main tracks” we would track back to the sand road and continue our path north.

The GS living up to its reputation – no sand

One tired looking rider – tired but happy

By late afternoon as we passed Techimatete we noticed a railroad leading off towards Dongo which was where we were heading so we decided to follow the railway line maintenance road. This was a bad idea initially, which turned out good after a particularly nasty waterhole where I almost managed to drown Honey as I was to lazy (read tired) to walk through the water before attempting it. As I ran up onto the railway line to show the other not to ride through the waterhole I noticed a very nice “woer woer” rack right next to railway line.

Woer Woer scooters by the millions

Now try and imagine this – you have the railway line, laid on top of a bed of stones. These stones are in turn laid upon a heap of sand, so in that ± 1 meter wide gap between the edge of the stones an the edge of the sand bed, you have this 20cm wide “woer woer” track. The guys looked at me in disbelief as I suggested we ride there as there was very little margin for error. I promptly got Honey on there and as the other saw how easy the going got they soon followed. The drop off to the right varied as one crossed over dongas and rivers and as the devil would have it one or two lost it and ran their bikes down the steep embankment. Eleven hours and ± 250 km’s later we called it the day and decided to camp right next to the railroad under the Africa sky with no visible sign of life anywhere near.

The woer woer track next to the railway sometimes had a decent drop off to the right where some of us strayed

Sometimes sand made way for mud

We were fresh out of water, so Glen volunteered to travel another 10km’s ahead to where there seemed to be a village. I asked him to return and not go beyond that point as I would have no idea where to start looking for him. By 7:30 pm, two hours after he left I decided to go and look for and eventually tracked him down way past our agreed point. He had travelled an additional 1 hour beyond that point, but no sign of life. So we settled down for the night and cooked the food with the little water that we had left.

 

[Leo]

Our camp site next to the railway line

Precision Chinese engineering on the railway line

Early the next morning I was woken by a woer woer scooter, the rider and passenger staring in disbelief at these massive machines that has suddenly graced their neighbourhood – almost like aliens.” Aqua Minerale Akie” was his response to my question for water as he pointed me in an easterly direction - 6 km’s. My GPS showed the town of Jamba in that direction so we decided to follow the little woer woer track that led in the general direction of Jamba, by 7:30 we were standing in town looking for a nice restaurant or whatever facility could provide us with food and water.

The “road” to Jamba

A local restaurant owner saw the opportunity to make a buck or three and offered to open his fine establishment before the regular opening time of 8:30 am. We promptly ordered water, cokes and food as he arranged for his chef to come in early and prepare food for us. In the meantime word of our presence had spread through town and not long before a local radio DJ popped in for an interview in Portuguese, and moments later the police to write down details of who, what, where, why and when. We were told the road from here to Dongo was asphalt (tar) so we spend a laid back morning eating and drinking our fill.

Eating in Jamba

The local police chief taking our details

The local Unita office in Jamba

As it turned out the road was not asphalt but rather fali (gravel), but we did manage to hit the asphalt about 30km’s from Matala where we filled up before we set our sites on Lubango. According to our original itinerary we were one day behind schedule, but somehow we were not too worried about this. All agreed that we would put in an extra mile or three and make up for that in no time. Late afternoon we arrived in Lubango and immediately went to the “Biker’s Bar”, a venue where I was told we would meet Joze Carlos who would take care of our every need. As we pulled in we saw the Honda Varadero and immediately knew we were in good hands.

The inside of the Millennium Mall in Lubango looks almost like Monte Casino

The beautiful hostess at our restaurant

Unfortunately his place was being renovated, but he insisted we stayed there and put us in one of his bungalows at no cost. As his place had no stock he escorted us to the Millennium Mall in downtown Lubango where we sat down for a cold beer, had a quick snack and also filled our bikes with fuel. That night we treated him to a nice meal at a local restaurant where he drank Napoleon brandy and coke with us and we chatted the night away. The next morning he arrived dressed in his biking gear and insisted he showed us he way to the Lebo pass and a few other spots as this was their regular Sunday morning breakfast run route.

The Lebo pass

Groupie with Jozy second from left

Spectacular engineering

Apparently the pass was designed by a Portuguese women

Every time I saw one f these trucks I got a nervous twitch and just wanted to shout: HE loaded, Target, FIRE!!!

A beer at the bottom of the pass before Jozy returned back to Lubango

At the bottom of the Lebo pass we had a quick beer, before he returned and we continued on our journey to Namibe on the Angolan coast. Namibe is one big rubbish dump, where Chinese calls the shots and the locals dance to their tunes. Although the scenery was spectacular, it was spoiled by the presence of filth, human faeces on the beach and the general disrespect for Mother Nature and her health. We visited some ship wrecks on the beach, the one turned out to be the local toilet, while the other was quite impressive. We bough ourselves some very expensive fresh fish, ice, coke and charcoal and prepared ourselves a sumptuous meal. We were meant to have a rest day, but unanimously we decided to get out of the dump and find more scenic places.

Getting on with the business of relaxing in Namibe

Fixing broken crash bars with Pratley Steel

Cleaning our supper

Our camp site in Namibe

The grey cliffs of Namibe. Massive Chinese hotel being build on the top

The Namibe slumps

The locals shows little to no respect for nature

Fish bbq

Riding on the filthy beaches

Basil getting it wrong

This one didn’t reach the harbour – The Independencia

On top of the Independencia

Filthy beaches

Sponsor logo

The next morning we returned some 20 km’s inland before we caught the EN100 north on a road that could be mistaken for the section between the Komas Hochland and Swakopmund. The good tar road soon gave way to a gravel road which varied in condition, but generally made for good progress. At the intersection where one would turn of to Lucira we were stopped by the police – once again who, what, why, where, so after a brief exchange of words we continued our journey towards Lucira. Of all the places we visited Lucira gets my first prize. Stunning scenery, reasonably clean beaches and calm water saw us dining on tuna and bread while taking a dive in the cold waters. A quick recce on the GPS revealed another beach Bingo Bay about 60 km’s to the north so we decided we will go there and sleep over in that town.

 

[Leo]

Going north from Namibe

Lucira

Where the main trade is drying fish and selling it to the Chinese

The whole way is desert with the occasional oasis where rivers mouth into the ocean

Later that day I waited patiently for all to arrive at the turn off to Binga bay and reccied the route using tracks4africa and Garmap. It seemed we were in for a hop skip and a jump, but what the hell. The 12 km’s was definite red route material where some guys took a few tumbles, but by late afternoon we were all parked on a high point overlooking the bay of Binga. There was a rather steep rocky road leading down to the beach, but we had already decided where we were going to sleep – right at the end of the bay next to a rocky outcrop where we could try our hand at some fishing. I was the first to go down, and it was uneventful to say the least.

Binga Bay

The road down to Binga Bay

Our camp site on the beach in Binga Bay

Riding out of Binga Bay

Once all was down in the village we asked the local chief if we could sleep on the beach – “No Problemo”, so I promptly ran Honey onto the beach and set of at speed towards the rocky outcrop where we wanted to sleep. Soft sand had me struggling to get momentum, but finally I go things going and made good progress. As I rose over one of the wash aways on the beach, the front wheel suddenly dug in and the rear overtook the rest of the bike. As I was send flying through the air I became aware of my head hitting the sand first, and then the tumble, as if in slow motion. After it all stopped I looked up to see Honey lying on her “roof” , the final drive and gearbox making strange noises as the bike idled in 4th or 5th gear as the wheels pointed to the sky. I threw her on her side, switched the bike off and next noticed the gaping wires of the helmet cam hanging from my shoulder. A frantic search for the camera lens ensued – which I luckily found. I returned to the rest of the group, with a broken screen, missing mirror and my ego totally destroyed. None of them had seen my spectacular tumble but could see from the bike that it was one helluva thing. So as we settled down for the afternoon, instead of fishing I went about bending straight the screen bracket, fixing the screen and gluing the GPS antenna. Antonie and I returned to the scene of the crime to look for the missing mirror, but we eventually had to give up. That night we braaied some fish that was given to us by a lady from the local village and sat on the beach reminiscing the days events.

Honey sporting her new Angolan plate

The next morning with aching bones, a chest that would not allow me to breathe normally, let alone laugh, we packed and made our way to the village from where the road lead back to the main EN100 route. Antonie offered to go first so he could park along the way and film our ascend with his video camera, so we watched in anticipation as he made his way up. At a particularly rocky section with two definite rock steps things came to a halt and he decided to wait there and film our progress. Unfortunately he left his bike ride on the riding line, so when Glen tried next he had to abandon ship at that same point. They moved his bike out the way before Glen rode down to have a second attempt. More hands would be needed to get the bikes past that rocky section. Shaun went next and dropped his 1150 quite hard on the right side denting the tank and sending indicators, etc flying in different directions. My turn next, - yes long legs and lots of momentum does help and soon Honey was parked right at the top of the mountain from where I walked down to assist getting the rest of the guys up. Tow roped tied to bikes, with guys pulling saw us getting all the bikes to the top and me taking the “next year resolution” to become fitter for next year’s trip. I also vowed this last year, but somehow I never got round to working on my fitness. As mentioned at the start of the RR, at 9 am we were all on top of the mountain from where we looked back at the spot where we had camped the night before.

The road north of Binga bay towards Benguela

Almost like the Komas Hochland road in Namibia

That’s how you fix a cracked screen

The odd 12 km’s back to the En100 took several more casualties – most notably Glen dropped his Tenere on the left that send his pannier scattering in pieces. It seems the pannier is not made of one solid construction, but rather different panels held together by pop rivets. We tied the pannier to his bike using extra tie downs and the kept his belongings at bay as we set our sails for Benguela. The road north was barren desert area only turning to a luscious oasis where the big rivers would mouth into the sea. The village of Dombe Grande was particularly nice and we stopped at a local shop in town where we bought water, coke, some tinned food, a bottle of Nederburg Cabernet and a bottle of Richelieu. From here we visited several villages along the way - Baia Azul being the only one worth mentioning. The rest might just as well have been rubbish dumps.

Baia Azul – also a very nice spot

We had no particular business in Benguela apart from refuelling so we drove through town, visited the beach and then set our target on Lobito. On the double lane road linking Benguela and Lobito a truck burst it left front wheel just as I passed it, which caused the truck to hit the centre barrier and jack-knife, behind me but in front of Excalibur. I had the mother of all frights as I was sure my mates had ridden into the truck, but what a relief when I saw the guys appearing unhurt from behind the truck. This could have been a nasty one.

In Benguela the beach was rakes by the local town council

In Lobito we rode the end of the 6 km long peninsula, hoping to find a camping spot but none was to be found. I stopped at some policemen and asked where we could camp – Akie (here) were their response. It was a nice spot, but security and the lack of ablution facilities made us wonder. In the end we decided to have a cold beer at the Zulu Rest restaurant, the very last one on this peninsula, and revisit our situation. Our predicament soon became known to all and soon the restaurant owner, Louis insisted we camp right on the edge of his restaurant. He would put his staff toilet and shower at our disposal, no charge, as long as we ate in his restaurant. Now that was fine hospitality. A quick inspection revealed two thatched roofs with cemented floors and lots of space around, so we took him up on his offer. We had found a piece of heaven right there on the beach.

Sunrise in Lobito

The next day we had a rest day and we set about washing our clothes, fixing our bikes and just relaxing. Glen managed to sow his pannier together using a hot screwdriver to drill holes through the plastic and stitching it together with cable ties – 19 cable ties later and some duck tape to keep out the dust left him with one mighty fine repair job.

The beaches of Sumbe

After our rest day we moved further north – Sumbe being our next destination. The rubbish dump of Sumbe did not really interest us, so after a chips and olive lunch, swallowed down with some Cuca beer we moved out the filthy spot. From here our road went inland towards Cabela, and area I wanted to visit as my brother who was killed in 1975 was buried somewhere in the region and I wanted to try and find the grave. The road inland was in reasonable condition and took us past the spectacular Cacheoira waterfall before we stopped in Cabela. No camping so we decided to travel south towards Ebo and sleep at the first available nice spot. Late afternoon we passed a ploughed land next to a massive big rock and we agreed that any landmines would have been unearthed so we set up camp.

The Cacheoira waterfall

The entire region is earmarked by these massive rocks protruding from the earth and could easily be mistaken for Swaziland. That night Excalibur outdid once again outdone himself in the cooking department and we sat on the massive rock enjoying the splendour of the area while sipping on some B&C.

The Ebo province

 

[Leo]

Camping on a worked land in Ebo province

Senor Glen reading in the early morning

The next morning we had some 15 km’s to go before we got to the GPS location I was given as my brother’s grave, but unfortunately the lack of communication between us and the locals as well as the absence of any clear indications of a grave prevented us from locating the exact spot. We did however cross the bridge on which his armoured car was destroyed and someone had built a memorial with the remains of the armoured car still neatly intact.

On this bridge my brothers armoured car was destroyed in ‘75

Although I had failed in my quest to locate his grave I was more at peace in my heart and will definitely return to collect his remains once the SA and Angolan governments has given their stamp of approval. This process has been ongoing since 2007 when we were told about the location of the grave - the guy who made the discovery would accompany us and he is able to pin point the spot. We spend a few hours here before setting our GPS to Huambo where we wanted to spend the night. The road from Ebo to Waku Kongo was nothing but a rural footpath but the main road going south to Huambo was in reasonable condition, so by 4pm we were in Huambo and refuelling, buying coke and water before moving out of town. We definitely didn’t want to spend the night in town, as it seemed like a very chaotic city. About 5 km’s out of town we pulled off into a thick bush area only to find a Chinese construction site located beyond that. We promptly pulled into the construction site and convinced the guards that we had to sleep inside on of the unfinished structures. Amazing what Abraham Lincoln can accomplish. Excalibur cooking, us drinking B&C while the Ipod was blaring away had the guards staring at us in total disbelief. That nigh we slept like babies while the guard with Ak47 intact took care of our security. We did give him some Pilchards and bread.

In this armoured car my brother died on 23 Nov 75

Tricky bridge crossings sometimes took it’s toll

Nice roads

This man helped us lift the bike, so we gave him a brand new Portuguese bible to replace his tattered one – check the one in his left hand

The “road” to Waku Kungu

More bibles being handed to youngsters

Huambo

Our “camp site” outside Huambo

Woer Woer scooters queuing to fill up and buy petrol to sell at double the price on the black market – still a bargain

As we hit the main road the next morning the onboard temp meter indicated a freezing 5 degrees, but we wanted to get to Lubango by nightfall, Africa was not for sissies, so we got on with the job. Well the tar road soon gave way to a potholed monster, which after many km’s and lots of praying turned into a completely gravel road which allowed for speedier travelling, but soon this turned into a potholed gravel track with sand traps.

Bad roads south of Huambo

More bad roads

More praying and lotsa perspiration saw the appearance of a new tar road at a town called Cusse. I have ridden bad roads in my life, but this was certainly the cherry on the cake. Late afternoon we pulled into Lubango and decided to stay at Caspers Lodge as we didn’t want to inconvenience Joze and his restoration / revamping work. We had his cell number and informed him about our plan, but he was not a happy chap. He drove to Casper’s Lodge to express his dismay at our plans, but by that time our tents were up, we had bought some meat, coke, ice and all else needed and was planning and going for gold that night. He brought along a Spanish couple who were cycling around the world – they have done 28500 km’s since their start 2.5 years ago. I tried explaining the advantages of having a motor connected to the two wheels, but they were unfazed.

The road south of Huambo suddenly disappeared at this river – no bridge so we had to follow the cattle route. Wonder what the vehicles do

this youngster could “Falu do English” so we gave him a bible

Caspers Lodge – the second time we stayed in an acknowledged camping site

Lubongo from the Jesus statue

Basil at the replica statue

The next day we left Lubango and headed for Cahama, situated on the main road to Santa Clara, but first we visited the Jesus statue, replica of the one in Rio (Brazil). A miscommunication led to people ending up all over the city, but a few SMS’s later we were all heading for Cahama and making good distance. During the trip south Antonie hit a step-up in the road with such a force that the bottom shock mounting bolt sheared. A local welder managed to weld a piece of metal to piece stuck in the swing arm and managed to remove the bits so a longer bold could be fitted. What was the odds of finding a welder out there in the sticks – lady luck was smiling upon us.

Camping at the granite site

Antoine’s bike in the workshop

In the meantime Glen and I were waiting for all to arrive in Cahama when a fellow South African gave us the message that our mates were stuck about 65km’s before Cahama. We stocked up on water and bread and headed back along the road to meet with the rest of the guys, but not before Glen had a major off in the thick sand of main street Cahama. This left bread and water scattered all over city centre and a bent handlebar, much to the amusement of all pedestrians in town at that moment. We eventually met up with the guys and decided to camp right there in the middle of nowhere. A near by granite mine provided some protection and we squatted in their campsite amongst a pig sty that smelled absolutely awful.

The Chinese bolt that saved Antonies trip

The next morning we hit the road early, filled up at Cahama and after a brief discussion with a fellow SA about the bad road south we decided to go off the main road and head towards Tichepa. After about 10 km’s the GPS instructed us to turn off and continue on a road marked as “other road”. We passed one small little village and although the GPS pointed us in one direction, the locals suggested another as the main road was (according to them) too sandy. The alternate route was also indicated on the GPS so we happily obliged. Several woer woer tracks later we realised we were going too far away from the main “other road” so I decided to return to the original road. We passed the “supposed” road, only there was nothing, so we bundu bashed some more. This was going to be the trend for the next few hours. Left around this bush, right around that bush, till you run into a wall of bushes, select the one with the thinnest stem, point the bike, drop the clutch and hang on for dear life, while trying to ignore that feeling in your heart and soul when you hear the branches scratching your beloved bike. The sapped the energy as we plodded on. Every 20 meters or so we had to stop, ensure all was still with us as one could not see beyond 20 metres and loosing someone there would certainly spell trouble.

This is how you duck tape a mattress pump to a ST to keep it cool

Roads were nowhere to be found

Camping somewhere in the bush on the way to Ruacana

On one occasion Shaun dropped his 1150 in a hole and required assistance to get it out. As Glen returned to his ST, the side stand had pushed into the sand and the bike fell over. He lifted it up and followed me, not long before the condensation tank on the radiator popped its cap. The bike was overheating. For some or other reason the fan was not kicking in. On inspection we noticed that the fan got slammed into the core of the radiator when the bike fell over, so we straightened the flimsy bars that kept the fan n place and covered it all up. Not long after the ST overheated again – the fan was still not kicking in. We connected the fan straight to the battery, no joy so presumably the fan motor got cooked. The radiator needed air through it, so our solution was to duck tape a mattress pump to the air inlet to blow air through the radiator. This worked temporarily and we managed to continue. By 4pm after about 8 hours of this sh!t I decided we turn back to where we last saw a road. All was against it, but I persisted and eventually all agreed. We had an overheating bike and another two bikes with clutches that were not sounding too well. We returned to the little village we visited that morning, stocked up on cold ones and looked for a place to camp. The village people were so friendly, we got offered the one daughter as an escort for the night – we had been away from home for long, but apparently not long enough as we all declined, much to the dismay of the mother and father who were obviously trying to make a quick buck. Shame the poor girl was absolutely petrified at the possibility that one of us would say yes, and she had put on her cleanest dirty dress for the occasion.

The road to Ruacana

We travelled till we were out of sight and sound of the village and settled for one of the coldest nights of the entire trip. The next morning we rose and congratulated Antonie on celebrating his birthday. We travelled with a massive detour past Outjinjau and Chitado and eventually reached Ruacana. The border officialdom was handled within 20 minutes and soon we were stocking up on Richelieu, coke, meat and all things nice at the Ruacana garage. It was really nice to walk into a shop and all the basic goods were on offer. A quick phone call to Kunene River Lodge (KRL) told us they were full so we settled for the Hippo Pools just outside of Ruacana. That night Antonie indicated that the office was calling and that he would be returning.

 

[Leo]

Chitado, the topless paradise

Ruacana customs office, now sporting an AFS ’10 sticker

Glen longing for his son’s back home

He left early the next morning while we packed and set our sites for KRL. The 40km’s was dealt in no time apart from a flat on Honey and by 11am we were ordering cold ones at KRL. The rest of the afternoon was spend fixing punctures, washing our clothes and just lazing around while on the ST the mattress pump made way for an ice cream bucket that was shaped to act as a ram air duct. By late afternoon the camp site was packed with Capetonians and a few Gautengers. We had ourselves a splendid meal and went to bed after several old ones with ice 

A quick dip in the Kunene – chuck in a big rock to chase away the crocks

Camping at Kunene River Lodge

Relaxing at KRL

From KRL we headed for Epupa fall which was in flood and the campsite packed to capacity. We convinced the caretaker that 5 tents don’t take up that much space, so we were given a spot. Coke and ice was on hand and we happily dug into our resources for the rest of the afternoon. That night Excalibur made pap and sous and we braaied boerewors that we got from the bar. All was splendid, although I’m not a particular great fan of pap and sous, but when you’re hungry, I guess one will eat any sh!t.

The mattress pump gave way to this ice cream tub to act as a ram air duct

Namibian highway

The impressive Epupa falls

…..more Epupa falls

Local campsite

Camping site in Epupa

From Epupa falls we set sail for Uis – Our initial plan was to sleep at Palmwag, but somewhere in the translation this got fazed, so we ended up in Uis for the night. En route Shaun indicated that he was heading for the office as the lady was not coping, so he feared off the road and started the return journey.

Sunset over the Brandberge (Fire Mountains)

Lovely campsite in Uis – www.Brandbergrestcamp.com

Our host Basil with his smoked rump and “fire water” – very strong local brew - better than tequila

Uis from the top of the mine dumps

The road to Henties

Duine Hotel (Dunes Hotel)

At Uis we stayed at the brandbergrestcamp where Basil was the host. What a splendid little spot. He kuiered with us, gave us some vuur water and some smoked rump. Absolutely tasty for a hungry man. Early the next morning he took us on a tour of the old tin mine which closed in 1990, while Glen had also decided to head home. Yes we had been away for 2.5 weeks and the okes were taking some strain. So Excalibur, Bail and I hit the dirt highway to Henties where the Duine Hotel served us a splendid breakfast before we continued our journey to Swakopmund.

Excalibur taking a nap – hands in pocket

If you don’t have a bucket for the salad, you make one using a 2L coke bottle

A rest day in Swakopmund where we enjoyed the sight and sounds of this beautiful city gave us the energy to head home the following morning via the beautiful Komas Hochland road.

The road over the Komas Hochland

Mountain pass

The famous “Spookhuis” (Ghost House) where alcoholic German officers were treated

We managed to hit the Botswana border post by late afternoon where we stocked up on Coke and Ice and BBQ’ed some meat we had bought in Gobabis. Last night of the trip and we were all left with a bit of sadness at this epic adventure came to an end. The next day we did the absolutely boring piece over Kang, Jwaneng and Lobatsi and by 8 pm we were all safely at home.

Our last BBQ on the trip

Thanks to “The Mates’ who went along.

This was certainly a memorable experience.

 

[Timolgra]

Wow, now that looked a brilliant trip, great photos too

 

[Monsieur]

Wow, now that looked a brilliant trip, great photos too

Seconded
Poingnant too

 

[PDiddy]

Great ride report, really enjoyed that, thanks for taking the time to post -

 

[garfield]

Cheers Leo, that was a fantastic read.....

 

[Big Nick]

Thanks for the pics, it looked a great trip

 

[Lord Snooty]

Fantastic report Leo, and I hope you quest to repatriate your brother's remains is successful

 

[mr_magicfingers]

Looks amazing, haven't been to Angola for over a decade, would be interesting to see what it's like now that there's relative peace.

Thanks for the report and good luck with the repatriation.

 

[Ash]

Cracking report and pictures

 

[Stewart H]

Great report thank you for sharing it .

Stewart

 

[(RIP) Nakambale]

Thoroughly enjoyed reading that. Thanks for posting

Pictures from Nam bring back some fond memories.

 

[Buttso]

thanks for sharing, great pics.. really enjoyed that read..

 

[David Lee]

Great report, driven over a bit a Namibia myself but never Angola

Good to see