There was a German cyclist heading the same way so we left together. Klaus originally didn’t plan to cycle, but got a cheap 2nd hand bike in Namibia and had made a tour to Mozambique, now heading back to South Africa. His specialty and pride was his wood stove made from cans. And I have to say, it was pretty cool! In the two days that we cycled together, he made the nicest meals including a fresh bread! He only intended to cycle about 50 km a day and spend the rest of the time cooking. After losing my stove in Ghana, I had now bought a gas stove in Lusaka. So his recipes were very useful.
After two days, he continued on the main road to Livingstone and I took a small road direction Lake Kariba to use small dirt roads to get there. A 5 day off-road adventure would begin…
I left all traffic and especially all the big trucks behind and was now roughing it uphill threw stunning hills. After crossing this ‘mountain’ range, I took the bottom road which kinda follows the edge of Lake Kariba (unfortunately you don’t get to see the lake very often).
As usual I went up to a family when the sun set to ask if I could pitch up my tent somewhere. Although her husband wasn’t home yet, she accepted me and I installed myself for the night. Women are definitely more emancipated here. Mothers often come up to me to shake my hand and have a small chat. I found their compounds intriguing with space to stock the maize high of the ground, small houses for the goats and chickens, a fence to keep the cows and nicely made huts or a house from clay bricks for themselves. Having cows to pull the plough, they were cultivating quite big lands and the agriculture seemed more developed then for example Congo Brazza.
Rolling hills kept coming and during one of the climbs I was looking at some people in the distance before taking my focus back to the track. I saw a branch and when I was just about to cycle over it, I realized it was a snake! I rolled a bit back and took the camera out. It was definitely alive, and it surprised me that it was just laying there. Normally they’re gone before you can see them. I told two men that there was a small snake there so they came over. They told me it’s a green mamba and with kids around, they didn’t hesitate to pick up a rock to kill it.
I continued the road, up and down, across small rivers and through small villages. The hills were steep and with a bad, rocky road it was taking a lot of energy to summit them. The Nshima (doug made from maize flour) turned out to have no energy and I felt constantly hungry. Luckily I now had a stove and cooked pasta to continue my journey.
I missed the turn-off for the bottom road heading west and had to cycle back ten km’s. The intersection turned out to be marked with a big baobab in which was carved ‘signpost’... haha! The road was so small you would never believe this was actually going somewhere, so easy to miss.
It was often not easy to see clearly which was the main road at intersections so I would walk up to a family to ask. Being afraid of the white guy with the strange bicycle suddenly walking towards them, the kids tended to run away and hide. Luckily there was always one brave mum to help me out in basic or no English. To be sure, I asked the son to come with me to the intersection to show me. Who needs GPS right? I had time and was in no hurry what so ever. Apart from that, as I said, I really enjoyed explaining my trip and talking to people who actually seemed to understand me and respected me for what I was doing. Here they call me a strong or big man, where as in Congo Brazza they call me ‘le petit’, the little one.
As I kept kicking ass on the bad roads, stubbornly not slowing down in the downhill, the Ortlieb rear panniers liked to come loose and even fly off. No way that I was going to slow down! I was absolutely loving life and the thrill of speeding down the bad track. So I tie-wrapped them to the carrier and could continue flying over the rocks and dips. Jihaaa!!! If a dip would unexpectedly show up, I just jump over with the front wheel, the rear panniers now firmly into place, the bike just follows. If I have a good speed/ momentum I just jump over it with the whole bicycle. Oh yeah, I had the best riding experience of the trip!
I imagined doing it with a mountainbike, because the steep hills kept being very exhausting with about of 30 kg of luggage holding it down. For three days I only did about 60 to 80 km, every day being exhausted as I was never before. Using the momentum after coming down, trying not to lose too much speed crossing the dry, rocky river to push it as hard as possible to get back up the other side. It didn’t only require energy, I also had to be very focused not to hit any rocks during climbing. Walking up some of them was inevitable.
The burning 35 – 40 degrees heat was a burden, but also a bliss because it meant the road was hard and the mud dried up. Where cows used the road too, it was extremely bumpy for this reason, but at least my energy was not getting lost trying to plough through mud.
Out of the hills, there were a lot of sandy sections. I would come down a hill only to get into loose sand and trying to keep the handlebars straight. Where it was just sand, it was very hard work to pull the bicycle through. With no wind cooling you down, the heat really gets you. Luckily, Zambians are cyclists too, so if there was a long, sandy section, they would make alternatives. Awesome to cruise down these single tracks threw the bush! They leave the main road for a bit, to get back to them after a while.
Alcohol seemed to destroy a lot here though. Even at 8 am they start drinking a local beer which is very cheap and quite strong. Leaving their fields, they don’t improve their lifestyle. Luckily they are all happy drunkards, ecstatic to see me and willing to pose for a photo shoot.
One of the worst drunkards was a nurse in charge of a local clinic. I could spend the night there and he brought a fan, so I wasn’t complaining.
Next morning I walk down to the lake and talk a long time to fishermen. The lake has plenty of crocodiles, but they tell me they have their way of dodging them…
People were always happy to see me which made taking photos easy. For example I would have a chat with the principal of the school, then to see a huge baobab tree and easily getting a dozen of pupils with me to pose in front of it.
Crossing this ‘mountain’ range back towards the north meant a bit more of walking again. A young guy just happened to watch and cheer for me when my shoe broke. He was very mature and understanding for his age and I ended up spending the night there. Instead of having just enough daylight to pitch up the tent, I could now join them to fetch water. After a lengthy walk I was surprised to find a dry river. They dig a hole and scoop up upcoming water from that. No wonder they were asking me for a waterpump.
In the morning I bring the young boy to school on the back of the bike (strong wheels!) to find both his fellow pupils and his teachers in awe. I tell them the story, see how the flag is raised and take the road. I pass many people who are on their way to try their luck in an open mine for mineral stones.
I now reach a plateau and with a slight tailwind it’s time to finish off the dirt road! Being relatively flat, I get into a good rhythm and end up doing 130 km of dirt road back to the main road Lusaka – Livingstone. 70 km to go on a perfect tar road. Next day I reach Livingstone before noon and can’t believe my eyes when I arrive at Jolly boys campsite and hostel. A pool, chill out zone, cold beer… After five days off-road I didn’t feel like leaving the place anytime soon. Klaus, the German cyclist, was there already and my Belgian friends were also soon to arrive!
I spend a couple of days going to the supermarket and feeding myself. But let’s not forget about the Victoria Falls. I seriously cannot believe my eyes when we get there. Even only the sound! The massive water flow falling over the edge makes for a heavy thunder before flying back up creating a water curtain. You definitely get wet! We wander around all the trails after which one of our group, Alf Martin from Norway, takes a bungee jump from the bridge 111m down to the Zambezi River.
A couple of days later, I crossed the same bridge to Zimbabwe. From Livingstone I had actually two options: Botswana or Zimbabwe. I had no idea what to expect from the latter, apart from Mugabe trying to get white people out, so I just went there to see it with my own eyes.
Again I got visa on arrival, for 30 dollars this time. I doubted to visit the Falls also on the Zim side, but the 30 dollars for entry make me decide not to. A decision I would later regret for quite a while. I felt like moving on, trying to get to Bulawayo in about three days.
I got a sim card and dollars from the ATM in no time. Again, these things would cost me half a day in Central Africa.
The road was boring with just a couple of small hills and almost no villages. Just bush… People were still nice and happy to see me, but not everyone like in Zambia. Before coming to Zim, I decided not to compare to Zambian people, because I would probably not find any nicer people anymore in Africa.
I took the main road because I had about seven weeks left to reach Cape Town so I had to make some progress. Unfortunately the road was very uneventful. Apart from that I didn’t feel very strong. With the slight headwind, progress was rather slow. Villages were rare and with elephants around, I was happy to get to a mining village where some security guy set me up for the night. Next morning I noticed my lock was broken, but the quality being so poor, it was easy to cut it was a saw blade.
Next morning I still didn’t feel great and just when I left Hangwe, I saw a Thai cyclist that I had met in Livingstone. His pace was slower, but we both planned to get to Bulawayo in three days now. And actually the road was so boring that I was happy to travel with someone.
Sombad, ex-marine and (war)photographer, turned out to be a legend. He left Thailand in 2011 to cycle around the world during eight years of time. His bike got stolen in Kazakhstan, so he bought a new one. Then in Zambia he got hit by a truck forcing him to go back to Thailand to recover for a year. So basically he had just continued his journey from Lusaka.
We covered about 120 km a day through the bush. Luckily there was not a lot of traffic on this main road, but still so boring, I could have felt asleep. Every 25-50 km, there was a resting place where we spent quite a lot of time because it were the only places where we met people. Other than that, no villages just bush… People were very nice by the way, respectful, easygoing, caring and helping us continuing our journey.
Our main interest was having a cold beer at the end of the day, and we managed perfectly. Sombad having traveled so much, we could talk all night drinking beer and swapping stories. Like the one where he showed his Thai-boxing skills to some thieves on the border Iran-Iraq. Knowing that the guy is 57, it’s all very impressive.
We got to Bulawayo, the 2nd largest city of Zimbabwe. The Packer’s rest campsite was disappointing after Jolly Boys in Livingstone, but I only planned to stay for one day anyway. Zimbabwe is also quite expensive. Norwegians that we met here, told us that Harare is as expensive as Norway! In 2008 there was drought and also 10.000% inflation forcing them to change currency. Now using US dollars prices were more stable, but still expensive.
Anyway, Botswana lays at 200km from here, so off I go!
After two days, he continued on the main road to Livingstone and I took a small road direction Lake Kariba to use small dirt roads to get there. A 5 day off-road adventure would begin…
I left all traffic and especially all the big trucks behind and was now roughing it uphill threw stunning hills. After crossing this ‘mountain’ range, I took the bottom road which kinda follows the edge of Lake Kariba (unfortunately you don’t get to see the lake very often).
As usual I went up to a family when the sun set to ask if I could pitch up my tent somewhere. Although her husband wasn’t home yet, she accepted me and I installed myself for the night. Women are definitely more emancipated here. Mothers often come up to me to shake my hand and have a small chat. I found their compounds intriguing with space to stock the maize high of the ground, small houses for the goats and chickens, a fence to keep the cows and nicely made huts or a house from clay bricks for themselves. Having cows to pull the plough, they were cultivating quite big lands and the agriculture seemed more developed then for example Congo Brazza.
Rolling hills kept coming and during one of the climbs I was looking at some people in the distance before taking my focus back to the track. I saw a branch and when I was just about to cycle over it, I realized it was a snake! I rolled a bit back and took the camera out. It was definitely alive, and it surprised me that it was just laying there. Normally they’re gone before you can see them. I told two men that there was a small snake there so they came over. They told me it’s a green mamba and with kids around, they didn’t hesitate to pick up a rock to kill it.
I continued the road, up and down, across small rivers and through small villages. The hills were steep and with a bad, rocky road it was taking a lot of energy to summit them. The Nshima (doug made from maize flour) turned out to have no energy and I felt constantly hungry. Luckily I now had a stove and cooked pasta to continue my journey.
I missed the turn-off for the bottom road heading west and had to cycle back ten km’s. The intersection turned out to be marked with a big baobab in which was carved ‘signpost’... haha! The road was so small you would never believe this was actually going somewhere, so easy to miss.
It was often not easy to see clearly which was the main road at intersections so I would walk up to a family to ask. Being afraid of the white guy with the strange bicycle suddenly walking towards them, the kids tended to run away and hide. Luckily there was always one brave mum to help me out in basic or no English. To be sure, I asked the son to come with me to the intersection to show me. Who needs GPS right? I had time and was in no hurry what so ever. Apart from that, as I said, I really enjoyed explaining my trip and talking to people who actually seemed to understand me and respected me for what I was doing. Here they call me a strong or big man, where as in Congo Brazza they call me ‘le petit’, the little one.
As I kept kicking ass on the bad roads, stubbornly not slowing down in the downhill, the Ortlieb rear panniers liked to come loose and even fly off. No way that I was going to slow down! I was absolutely loving life and the thrill of speeding down the bad track. So I tie-wrapped them to the carrier and could continue flying over the rocks and dips. Jihaaa!!! If a dip would unexpectedly show up, I just jump over with the front wheel, the rear panniers now firmly into place, the bike just follows. If I have a good speed/ momentum I just jump over it with the whole bicycle. Oh yeah, I had the best riding experience of the trip!
I imagined doing it with a mountainbike, because the steep hills kept being very exhausting with about of 30 kg of luggage holding it down. For three days I only did about 60 to 80 km, every day being exhausted as I was never before. Using the momentum after coming down, trying not to lose too much speed crossing the dry, rocky river to push it as hard as possible to get back up the other side. It didn’t only require energy, I also had to be very focused not to hit any rocks during climbing. Walking up some of them was inevitable.
The burning 35 – 40 degrees heat was a burden, but also a bliss because it meant the road was hard and the mud dried up. Where cows used the road too, it was extremely bumpy for this reason, but at least my energy was not getting lost trying to plough through mud.
Out of the hills, there were a lot of sandy sections. I would come down a hill only to get into loose sand and trying to keep the handlebars straight. Where it was just sand, it was very hard work to pull the bicycle through. With no wind cooling you down, the heat really gets you. Luckily, Zambians are cyclists too, so if there was a long, sandy section, they would make alternatives. Awesome to cruise down these single tracks threw the bush! They leave the main road for a bit, to get back to them after a while.
Alcohol seemed to destroy a lot here though. Even at 8 am they start drinking a local beer which is very cheap and quite strong. Leaving their fields, they don’t improve their lifestyle. Luckily they are all happy drunkards, ecstatic to see me and willing to pose for a photo shoot.
One of the worst drunkards was a nurse in charge of a local clinic. I could spend the night there and he brought a fan, so I wasn’t complaining.
Next morning I walk down to the lake and talk a long time to fishermen. The lake has plenty of crocodiles, but they tell me they have their way of dodging them…
People were always happy to see me which made taking photos easy. For example I would have a chat with the principal of the school, then to see a huge baobab tree and easily getting a dozen of pupils with me to pose in front of it.
Crossing this ‘mountain’ range back towards the north meant a bit more of walking again. A young guy just happened to watch and cheer for me when my shoe broke. He was very mature and understanding for his age and I ended up spending the night there. Instead of having just enough daylight to pitch up the tent, I could now join them to fetch water. After a lengthy walk I was surprised to find a dry river. They dig a hole and scoop up upcoming water from that. No wonder they were asking me for a waterpump.
In the morning I bring the young boy to school on the back of the bike (strong wheels!) to find both his fellow pupils and his teachers in awe. I tell them the story, see how the flag is raised and take the road. I pass many people who are on their way to try their luck in an open mine for mineral stones.
I now reach a plateau and with a slight tailwind it’s time to finish off the dirt road! Being relatively flat, I get into a good rhythm and end up doing 130 km of dirt road back to the main road Lusaka – Livingstone. 70 km to go on a perfect tar road. Next day I reach Livingstone before noon and can’t believe my eyes when I arrive at Jolly boys campsite and hostel. A pool, chill out zone, cold beer… After five days off-road I didn’t feel like leaving the place anytime soon. Klaus, the German cyclist, was there already and my Belgian friends were also soon to arrive!
I spend a couple of days going to the supermarket and feeding myself. But let’s not forget about the Victoria Falls. I seriously cannot believe my eyes when we get there. Even only the sound! The massive water flow falling over the edge makes for a heavy thunder before flying back up creating a water curtain. You definitely get wet! We wander around all the trails after which one of our group, Alf Martin from Norway, takes a bungee jump from the bridge 111m down to the Zambezi River.
A couple of days later, I crossed the same bridge to Zimbabwe. From Livingstone I had actually two options: Botswana or Zimbabwe. I had no idea what to expect from the latter, apart from Mugabe trying to get white people out, so I just went there to see it with my own eyes.
Again I got visa on arrival, for 30 dollars this time. I doubted to visit the Falls also on the Zim side, but the 30 dollars for entry make me decide not to. A decision I would later regret for quite a while. I felt like moving on, trying to get to Bulawayo in about three days.
I got a sim card and dollars from the ATM in no time. Again, these things would cost me half a day in Central Africa.
The road was boring with just a couple of small hills and almost no villages. Just bush… People were still nice and happy to see me, but not everyone like in Zambia. Before coming to Zim, I decided not to compare to Zambian people, because I would probably not find any nicer people anymore in Africa.
I took the main road because I had about seven weeks left to reach Cape Town so I had to make some progress. Unfortunately the road was very uneventful. Apart from that I didn’t feel very strong. With the slight headwind, progress was rather slow. Villages were rare and with elephants around, I was happy to get to a mining village where some security guy set me up for the night. Next morning I noticed my lock was broken, but the quality being so poor, it was easy to cut it was a saw blade.
Next morning I still didn’t feel great and just when I left Hangwe, I saw a Thai cyclist that I had met in Livingstone. His pace was slower, but we both planned to get to Bulawayo in three days now. And actually the road was so boring that I was happy to travel with someone.
Sombad, ex-marine and (war)photographer, turned out to be a legend. He left Thailand in 2011 to cycle around the world during eight years of time. His bike got stolen in Kazakhstan, so he bought a new one. Then in Zambia he got hit by a truck forcing him to go back to Thailand to recover for a year. So basically he had just continued his journey from Lusaka.
We covered about 120 km a day through the bush. Luckily there was not a lot of traffic on this main road, but still so boring, I could have felt asleep. Every 25-50 km, there was a resting place where we spent quite a lot of time because it were the only places where we met people. Other than that, no villages just bush… People were very nice by the way, respectful, easygoing, caring and helping us continuing our journey.
Our main interest was having a cold beer at the end of the day, and we managed perfectly. Sombad having traveled so much, we could talk all night drinking beer and swapping stories. Like the one where he showed his Thai-boxing skills to some thieves on the border Iran-Iraq. Knowing that the guy is 57, it’s all very impressive.
We got to Bulawayo, the 2nd largest city of Zimbabwe. The Packer’s rest campsite was disappointing after Jolly Boys in Livingstone, but I only planned to stay for one day anyway. Zimbabwe is also quite expensive. Norwegians that we met here, told us that Harare is as expensive as Norway! In 2008 there was drought and also 10.000% inflation forcing them to change currency. Now using US dollars prices were more stable, but still expensive.
Anyway, Botswana lays at 200km from here, so off I go!