Part 2

Picture a world map, now imagine yourself in Johannesburg-South Africa and then directly east around 12 000 kilometers is Turriff, Victoria Australia or 'Home' to me, now to get there you will ride a motorbike north up East Africa until Russia then head south to Australia, alone......hard to imagine??well even for me it is but for the next 12 months that's what lays ahead. Nervous I am, but also very excited.

Having just completed a trans African crossing down the west coast, which is meant to be one of the most challenging routes in the world one would think that the next leg will be a breeze, but the thought of riding home is unthinkable but one thing I have learnt is to take one day at a time, one country at a time, one bloody puncture at a time! One has to have a desire to do such a thing and really want to do it and love it because if you don't the unknown, the tough times, the AK47 wielding bribing soldier would simply be to much.

So what does lay ahead?....from here in South Africa on October 16th I will ride to Mozambique and head up the East coast of Africa through Malawi, Tanzania, Kenya, Ethiopia and say a farewell to the African Continent from Djibouti on the horn of Africa. Then skirt the coast of Yemen, Oman and UAE to cross over to Iran by means of ferry. North to Russia through the 'Stan's' hoping that the snow and ice will have melted upon my arrival. When for the last time I will head the mother ship south, Mongolia and China first, China still poses to be a huge hurdle not allowing people to move through their country on/in private vehicles-but that's to worry about later, have to get there first. If I do get in it will be onto Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, island hope across Indonesia and one final ferry to Darwin, Australia.....and this time it will be alone.

I have checked the stead over time after time, replenished spares such things as tubes, patches and pain killers, the trip will have a different feel to it than the last part, as having another rider is very comforting for safety factors and also sharing day to day burdens that this kind of adventure entails. So going alone will be a real test of the mind, patience, adaptability and character, I cant wait.

I would like to thank everyone that has left a comment on my blog or sent me an email, times do get tough from time to time and the words of encouragement or reminder of what normal life is like are a huge help, keep them coming, cheers.

Day 365

Well it was a year to the day that we rode into Johannesburg which marked the final destination for Amy, plus we were greeted by two friends that also fare welled us a year ago in Putney, London, Paul and Zoe Jenkins, not a bad little welcoming.

We spent quite some time in Cape Town enjoying the hospitality of friends, nice food and the beautiful city itself. I spent most of the time preparing the mother ship for the next voyage, including new fork seals(they gave up in Cape Town, so would I after the Angolan roads), a few missing bolts, restock of spares and some minor open heart surgery on the steeds engine room. But open inspection all was well except for the tired rings. 120k I should think so. Also I had my panniers reinforced with some more aluminium. So with a new ticca and a new direction, north, we left with Table Mountain in a wing mirrors around the coast.

Working on the motor in Cape Town.

Thats a bit black.

The mother ship engineless!!

Leaving CapeTown, my mechanic Tim.

Along the way we continually met the most wonderful people that gave us a place to stay, a meal and most importantly a cold beer or three. Along the Garden Route, we rode an ostrich, jumped off the highest bungee in the world and tried surfing Jeffery's Bay, more emphases on tried than surfed!!

Might be the most southern point but not the most comfortable.

Where I have come from , where I am headed.

The curry capital of Durban saw the weather warm to a pleasant temperature and then just to remind us it was winter we headed across to Lesotho, up Sani Pass which is a 3000 meter climb up a rocky gravel path which came as a struggle to me with a massive lose of power. With no great idea of the problem and the mother ship struggling to even move it was decided that I shoot back to Durban to get the problem solved and Amy would stay on with Brad and Jola, an American couple we had been riding with on and off since departing Cape Town.

I limped the mother ship back to Durban with the clutch slipping also, it was falling apart around me. Upon arrival I went and stayed with some lads, Steve and Len, we had met up in the Caprivi Strip in Namibia, I soon discovered that the clutch problem was my own silly fault of an adjustment at the handle bar, whoops! and after having the carb out it looked clean so why not give it 4 new spark plugs, after all the manual recommends replacing them every 12000 k's and they had now done 45 000k's, think I got my value out of them! Voila, the problem was fixed, I had my power back and also fuel economy.

Frozen waterfall Sani Pass.

That was those problems fixed but another was to come, riding back to where I was staying from town on the motorway in heavy traffic one night I thought the trip was over and also my life! Surrounded by cars the flow was about 110 k's an hour, then all I head from somewhere behind me was a cars tyres were locked up screeching down the motorway, in an instant I had time to think 'hell is this behind me or to the side of me and also grip the handle bars as hard as I could, the moment all that went through my mind and my grip tighten I found my self looking toward the sky, the car was behind me and had slammed right up my backside with a huge crunching noise, I was shot forward with my front wheel shooting up, I griped the tank tight with my legs and tried regaining control, my front wheel hit the tarmac with a wobble and I manged to keep it upright, in a state of shock I pulled the bike of to the side, my heart pounding out of my chest. I could not quite believe what had just happened.

The car was also pulled over by this stage and a man was out trying to pull the front of his car into place, he approached and I started of calm until he tried worming his way out of it and telling me he had no money to fix my bike, so I let him have it, I was furious, asked his name which turned out to be a false and his number. Not believing a thing he was trying to tell me I fortunately had my camera on me Which I took out and took photos of everything and zooming in on the work phone number on the front of his car, it was like beating my head against a brick wall talking to him so I rode of not only shaken but well wound up by this clown and not to mention on a bent up bike!

The next day I rang the number on the front of the car, the boss was very understanding and offered to pay for all repairs, so it all worked out in the end. So for the next few days I got my bike fixed and hung out with Steve and Len, playing a few rounds of golf, micro lighting and a booze cruise up a river in a speed boat, nice little trip to Durban in the end.

I had to leave paradise and met up with Amy, Brad and Jola on the other side of Lesotho, riding the longest day yet of the trip 701 k's, and after a year my but still l gets sore.

It was cold up there, so after a day of horse riding we headed to Swaziland for a look which turned out to be a nice relaxed country, such a pleasure then back into South Africa and up to Kruger National Park for a visit, saw our first Cats finally, lions, among a lot of other animals in the park. We hung out with Martin, Sasha and Family in at there farm for a few days giving the bikes an oil change, drinking nice wine and cold beer, more great hospitality from South Africans.

Kruger National Park.

Then finally to Johannesburg, where we are trying to sell Amy's bike as she will fly home to Australia in October. What a journey Amy has done, gone from having never ridden a motorbike to riding 45 000 k's across Africa and West Africa for that matter what an amazing effort. And not only did she ride the bike but she rode it well, I take my hat off to her.

Stay turned for Part 2, I will depart on the 16 th of October for the trip north up East Africa.

We made it!!

Almost there!

After 248 days, 39 323 kilometres and about 40 punctures we made it to the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa. After heading in southerly direction for so long and then reaching a place were we could go south no more was strange this was the place that was in the back my mind the whole time and there we were staring out over the empty ocean, that point itself may have been just another place but it was a great sense of achievement, to simply look at my bike and think it got me here and I got it here all on our own, not once did we use another mode of transport to carry the bikes we rode ever inch of the way except for the odd river crossing of course.

We made it.......

Cape Town and its surroundings are very beautiful, with Table Mountain in the heart of the city it is the most picturesque city I have ever seen, far cry from down town Lagos, Nigeria. After travelling the length of the African continent not once been hurt by a single wild animal it was Cape Town were I came unstuck, I was mauled on the hand by a killer penguin as I removed it from a fence it was stuck in!!!

A harmless killer!

The server flesh wound cuased by the killer penguin.

We stayed with a friend of mine who I met 18 months earlier whilst travelling in Cuba, Ricky De Agrela, who also enjoys an adventure having flown a mirolight around the world in 2004. This was great to have a nice bed and a garage to start the arduous job of fixing the bikes up to continue my journey north.

The microlight that flew around the world.

Above the waves, Ricky and I with Table mountain in the background.

Back in Namibia

Namibia was fantastic, the scenery spectacular, we headed north to where the Himba people are, these stunning primitive people have a tradition were the women rub a red colored paint all over their bodies and cake their hair with red mud to form huge long red dreads, just amazing people to encounter, the most amzing for me thus far.

Himba Ladies.

More Himba people.

In the north western corner of Namibia close to the Angolan border we encountered a road that was on par with a tough piste we road in Mauritania, huge boulders with steep climbs and descents smashing against my bash plate and having to wrestle the bike as the road wound through a mountainous pass was tiring work. Even though it was more of the adventure we liked, it made us want to simply get to Cape Town and not be subject to anything braking on the bikes nor on us, we had come so far and felt we did not want to be slowed now, we headed for the better roads once again.

Amy's chain skipped off on the corrugations.

A bush camp in a cave.

Crossed this before but home in Australia.

The rest of Namibia was a breeze besides my rectifier giving up half way down but since I heard it could be a problem I had been carrying a spare all the way from London so fitted it and continued on our way. The further south we went the colder it became, we passed a seal colony, the massive dunes of the Namib Desert and the ghost town of Kolmanskop, engulfed by sand dunes.

The giant dunes of Souselvie, Namibia.

The trusty stead.

......illegal entry

We reached the Zim/Botswana border at about 3 in the afternoon with the thoughts of getting through and getting down the road 100 k’s to Francistown for a bed but were we wrong and our biggest dilemma was about to begin.

On the Zimbabwe side we simply were stamped out and we road on to the Botswana border bidding a good farewell to Zim after a nice time there considering all we had heard before going there. As we approached the Botswana border post we could see lines of cars and people everywhere, queues, queues a mile long with no less than 200 people in them, we were in for a long wait. We lined up after parking our bikes and asked around how long the wait would be and it turned out to be a lot longer than daylight hours we had left and we did not want to be stuck riding in the dark. After awhile I came up with a plan to try and get through quicker, down the front of the line I went and spoke with the soldier controlling the line, gave him a story I was a very important person from the government and hey presto he said go through, great I thought. But this was the point that we would go no further!

The customs lady asked for our passports, looked at mine then Amy’s, the emergency passport, she raised an eyebrow, oh no what now. You have to remember in this part of the world blacks hate whites, not all of course but there is a lot of grudges held and when one is given certain powers they think they can dictate what ever they want. The customs lady said that we could not enter as it was an emergency passport and Amy needed a visa but I did not! We both thought this was rubbish and we did find out later it was. So I started out politely questioning her actions to why really we needed a visa and then kindly asked to speak with the officer in charge. The customs lady went to get the boss came back and said she will be with us shortly. We stood for about 30 minutes waiting, no boss arrived I asked the lady where she is and her simple reply was she has gone to lunch! Was getting well pissed off by now. I said lunch its almost 4 pm, the customs lady began with a lecture of well we need to eat you know just like ‘you people’ as they prefer to us, I started been not so nice realising that all hope of getting Amy’s passport stamped was fading and our option was to turn back to Zim and go to Harare, over a 1000 k’s back for a visa from the Botswana embassy, not an option I thought. So I argued the point some more that we needed to see someone important, then the reply came that the boss had one home, I lost it, saying how incompetent these people were and if this was a reflection on the people of Botswana I don’t want to enter their country anyway. Hmmm some how I think I was going down the wrong path. And then the boss appeared, I glared at the customs lady politely calling her a liar before chatting with the boss, nope her stance was the same and that was that.

We left the building dejected, it was late the sun almost set, a Friday afternoon so none of the Australian embassies could help, what to do, Amy got upset it was just to much for her. I was thinking of a plan, I had my passport stamped first but Amy did not but if we just could get passed the border man at the gate. We road up thinking the worst and prepared to turn around and go back, as it was a one way road we had to still ride around the border which involved entering Bots and then following the road back around into Zim. We road up to the border gate and I simply said to the man we need to go through and ride around to the Zim side please, he half looked at my passport and not Amy’s and waved us through, we road on nervously as I knew what I was thinking and hoped Amy the same, that was ‘lets keep going' I slowed so Amy was beside me as we approached the right turn to take the road back to Zim, took one look at her and yep she was thinking the same as me, we screwed the throttle into Botswana, I was fine but Amy was illegal, we cruised to Francistown in the dark, I now had to think of how to get her out of the country……

Namibia

Namibia was what we had been waiting for and anticipated for so long but as time went by we longed to be back in Angola, the rotten roads, bush camping, all this because the adventure was over(for now). The roads were superb, petrol stations everywhere and steak, steak, steak, vegetables are more expensive than steak in Namibia!!

It was nice to have all the luxuries of course but our trip took a sharp turn toward the more angle of a holiday rather an adventure. Having said this there were a few things that remained the same that reminded us we where still in Africa in the form of punctures and spares or there lack of. Trying to get to the first town that had a motor cycle shop that could give me a new tube was an effort with the already large number of holes in the rear tube I had to replace the patches every 80 k’s due to the heat from the road and inadequate glue I was using! Eventually we made it and the Baja was desperately in need of a new chain and sprocket but of course there were no such sprockets available in Namibia so the only solution was to machine the centre of a new sprocket and the outside of our old one and weld the two together, so after a few days a few steaks and quite a few hot showers, first since Nigeria we were mobile again and headed for Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe.

Entering Zimbabwe.

Victoria Falss from below...........

.........and from above.

Zimbabwe, well what to say, besides a lack of fuel, an inflation rate the highest in the world at around 3000%, and a leader who seems to have lost all his marbles-its actually not to bad. Vic Falls was quite something as it should be I suppose been a natural wonder of the world and what better way to view it than to take a ultra light flight over the enormous falls, throwing mist hundreds of meters into the air.

We made the capital Harare in time to for the ANZAC Day service for all resident Aussies and Kiwi’s and visiting ones as well, we looked a little out of place in our travelling rags amongst the suits and dresses but once the good Aussie wine and local beer flowed people were all ears to our stories.

ANZAC Day, Harare.

On the road to Harare my dash mount had had enough breaking on the corrugations making me have to hold it up with my left hand for 2 days until we reached the capital. Luck was on our side as we met a fellow biker called Rocky(an ex boxer) who lets say owned an adult establishment and along with his help and welding gear we fixed my dash and few other little problems our bikes had.

Repairs, Me, Rocky and Mpose.

Rocky on his vintage BMW.

Amy picked up her new emergency passport, which would become the biggest hassle we would have to face in time to come, more on that one later. We headed south to Botswana and on our way taking a wrong turn lead us to some good fortune. We stumbled across a white owned farm and because of the man who lost his marbles is hard to find in Zimbabwe-a white owned farm! The owners Joan and Lara let us stay a few nights, maybe in time to come there will be no white people on the land, I sure hope not.

After a nice time there it was a short ride to Botswana, where the trouble begins……………..

Periga Mina!!

I woke still drained, lets go thought I wanted to nearer to something that reveals civilisation which I guessed would be hard to find in Angola, as we rode I was weak and the what energy I had was draining fast just negotiating the track in front of me, we finally made it to a town called Miquala Do Zombo and that was it for me, fortunately we met an Italian lady there who was a doctor who let us rest in the shade of her veranda and away from the gather crowd. By 2 o'clock it was decided I had malaria as my temperature hit 40! SO quickly taking the treatment tabs we bought in Senegal we realised we would have to ride it out here, once again the police to the rescue, they let us camp at the station which involved putting a ground mats inside on the floor of the building as a huge storm approached, night one saw me in a daze, hot and cold, sweating one minute freezing the next as the biggest lightning and thunder storm raged outside.......for the first time I imagined been home curled up in bed with a fridge to go to and more importantly a toilet.

Yep thats a mine in the middle of the road.

The next day came after no sleep and I was no better, the head officer decided the place need a clean up for the new guest, us, and rallied all the prisoners from the cell to give the place the once over before been locked away again. Day three saw a vast improvement and I wanted outta there and feeling allot better with my temp almost normal we headed south again.

Move over you big loath.

The roads were horrific, and in one day it seemed that our bikes were destroyed in a sense, up until now I had managed to keep them going fine and in good shape but in one afternoon things changed, first Amy had a spill and bent her mirror and also the rear sub frame seemed out of shape, it was the back tire now rubbed on bits that are not meant to come close to the tire. Then it was my turn, the roads still bad but at least rideable I took a path on the edge of the road as the middle was washed out but as went my right pannier clipped the side wall throwing myself and bike into a huge canyon, well not that bad but it seemed that way, the mother ship went down hard with a bang. Straight away I could see the mirror smashed, it took Amy and I all our strength which I had lack of from the Malaria to get it upright. Eventually after a few vein popping moments it was out of the hole and the real damaged was visible, my entire dash took the brunt of the crash breaking all the mounts holding my dash together and shifting it all to the right, things were not very straight, a little annoyed with myself as i looked at the line I should have taken. But with nothing I could do about it there we pressed on.

The crash.

It was a race against the rain for the remainder of Angola, one afternoon we spent it all riding in the rain but it made no sense to stop and wait for it to pass as that might be days so we pressed on. As we rode I noticed white post each sideofthe road, thats strange I thought,white posts out here, they had something written on them so I slowed to read it, Periga Mina! this in Portugues translated to danger mines, we were riding right through the middle of a mine field!! But as we discovered this was normal, many a time we found ourselves riding on the road thats path travelled directly through mine fields, there are alot in Angola, one time there was a pile of sticks and a make shift barrier with a skull and cross bones on it right in the middle of the road and right there we could see the mine, must have washed up from the rains. We casualy rode around it.

Tank left over from the recent war.

Angola changes vastly from top to bottom but one thing that does not is the abandoned tanks and other military vehicles from the war and the old Portuguese buildings that crumbled from bullet and rocket holes were visible in every town. Plus the food or lack of in the country made us want to get to Namibia even more, we wanted civilisation, we wanted a hot shower, we wanted normality..........we were tired.

Angolan scenery.

...another left over.

The roads continued to get worse and worse shaking us apart as my broken dash bounced all over the place. But eventually we made it and on nothing but fumes as well, the Namibian border was in sight and the mother ship gave up, out of fuel so we drained what we could spare from the Baja and limped across the border looking a bit worse for wear, I suppose it looked like we had just ridden across Africa!

Mother and child.

The young and the old!

DRC Congo

Well what could we do we had no option but to cross the river to Kinshasa hope for the best and more importantly find a rear tire for the trusty stead, else I we are going nowhere, but the people of Brazzaville assured us you can find everything in Kinshasa, well I hope so.

The ferry crossing was another reminder to us that we were in wild Africa, nothing orderly about it going from one office to another getting the appropriate ticket and stamp from the relevant official, making our patience wear very thin but eventually we were escorted onto the ferry by a policeman shoving and whipping people with a broken fan belt to make room for us to pass, I felt bad, why do they have to do that to their own people just for us white people as they call us often, sometimes I wonder how they think. The trip was short and sweat across the grand Congo River but all the time my mind racing as to what would meet us in this next country...DRC Congo one of the largest in Africa.

The ferry to Kinshasa.

More whipping of people as the ferry docked it was anarchy as people shoved at one another to disembark, one lady fainting and falling to the ground whilst others clamored over her, madness but it was every one for themselves and we had our own concerns of riding up the ramp. Once up it the formalities went smooth but lasted an age then one official clown said we had to disinfect our bikes, what a joke we refused and after a while he gave up.

We road out of the port not knowing what to expect but all was well besides a few blown up cars and the building with the Spanish embassy in it was blown apart, and that's only what we saw. We quickly located a Yamaha dealership which luck be have it had a 17 inch rear in stock but a road tire, I did not care I needed it, so 165 US dollars later I strapped it to my bike and thought to change it later.

Sure enough just before dark as we were about to find a camp after getting 100 k's south of Kinshasa I got a huge nail in my rear, tire that is so what a better time to fit the new tire and patch another puncture.

We left the tarmac behind and headed straight for the Angolan border, people telling us the road would be bad ahead of us but us been us and been where we had thought we would be OK, was I wrong. What unfolded the on this day, day 197 turned out to be the hardest day of all. The road turned into anything but a road, it was one big bog, a river, hell on earth. The only other vehicles to attempt it were the local old 6 wheel drive trucks and to cover the 70 k's to the border took them 4 days, this we found out at the end of course. We sweated, wrestled and heaved our bike down the mud flows, the rainy were well and truly here. It was tough, never in my life have I ridden through such tough conditions, oh and of course I had a slick on the back which did not help. One stage I came to what I though was about a meter of mud spanning across the road, I gunned it and my front tire just sank and sank deep followed by by back, it was like glue stopping me so quickly nearly sending me over the bars. It took myself and half a dozen Congolesse locals to prize it from the mud. At times I thought to turn around but I kept thinking we have come this far, it has to improve. After a long long day we covered a mere 74 k's and had still yet to reach the border of Angola.

I think I'm stuck!!

Wheel of mud

On the Michelen Map this is the number 1 highway!!

After spending the night camped at the police station and been the movie for a hundred locals to watch the road got better to the border which we reached by late afternoon, Angola at last, and camped in a village close by. I started to feel weak, and just thought that from the last two days wrestling a quarter of a tone through what we had had taken it out of me, I was drained completely, Amy cooked up a delicious meal and that was me sleep was heaven.

This is the way to travel.

Congo

We headed East across Gabon to Francville then out to Congo from there, been so remote we some how missed the border proceedings for Gabon, I looked down at my GPS and it showed us in Congo, with no carnet to be stamped and why get an exit stamp in our passports that were filling fast we shrugged our shoulders and continued on. The track was sandy and it did not see much traffic at all but it was not how I imagined the Congo which my thoughts were of thick jungles, in the north I am sure it was the case but here it was huge high rolling hills covered in grass lands, very beautiful. What people we started to see seemed poor, not asking for money but as we passed they rubbed their tummies asking for food. I cant figure it out the land here is so fertile and lush with life....grow something...I don't know.


Sandy roads of Congo.

As evening approached I got stuck in a bog hole which would have been impossible to get the bike out if it were not for three lovely ladies in their best clothes flick their flip flops off and wade into the mud helping pull it out, one even had her baby on her back, we payed them with water, and away we went, we spent the night in a village hut, one thing is the people of Congo are friendly.

Stuck!!

The road the next day got worse with deep sand and by now I was riding on a rear tire the likes of Valenteno Rossi would only use, it was bald but it only had to get me to Brazzville were I'd hope to find a new one. Eventually we reached the ever so lovely tarmac and cruised down to Brazzville where we ran into Leo, the Spaniard and Del the Pom who had arrived the day before. The city was quite lively with nice bakeries which we treated ourselves to but after an afternoon of searching high and low for a new tire or something that would suffice we turned up nothing, except discovering that there are a load of shot up and bombed buildings from the war and that only two days ago 160 people had been killed in fighting just across the Congo river in Kinshasa our next destination....great.

Gabon

With a visa dead line to get to Angola before the 14th of April, we decided to move through Gabon as quickly as possible but I had the problem of a fast wearing back tire so to go or not to go to Libreville the capital to try and find a new one played on our mind, it also meant an extra 800 or so k's so it was not an appealing option. Gabon was beautiful, thick rain forest, the trees so enormous towering high both sides of the road and the main road was music to my suspension smooth as silk, well with the amount of logging trucks carting the forest away the better the roads the quicker they can do it hey...sad! We crossed into the southern hemisphere, my first time in over three years, almost feel like I am home...and decided not to head west to Libreville but East to the Congo, chance it with the tire, what the hell hey!


Crossing the Equator in French.

With a visa dead line to get to Angola before the 14th of April, we decided to move through
In the middle of the Gabon jungle we camped, the night before saw a huge storm and our tent get flooded so I had to get up and make channels to divert the water, guess we should not have set up in a gully! So after a restless nights sleep we woke to a strange buzzing, laid there for a bit and it got louder, I looked out of the tent to see bees, thousands of then swarming over all our stuff, the bikes were covers, Holy Shit what are we going to do, I got out a just stood there so still, bees everywhere in my hair, landing on me, I was petrified, so ever so slowly I picked our helmets up and walked down the track with them about 100 or so meters til there were no bees and returned to the camp repeating this with our jackets, bags and the rest of our gear, whilst Amy packed all she could up inside the tent, time to move the bikes as they where just covered, as I moved Amy's away BANG...a bee hit got me on my little finger, the pain, I pushed it away down the road and returned for mine, my fingers were swelling fast, I tried to push mine, hell its stuck, I looked down, you guessed it, a flat tire, I had to start it and ride it away on a flat tire, few bees followed but not as bad as where we were. Amy was out of the tent by now with everything packed away, the tent was the last item to pack and by now it was covered in bees, I picked it up in the middle and just sprinted down the road with it, bees falling off as I ran. With everything packed away I had to then get the bike pump out and put air in my tire, by now the bees were around again, all through my hair and on my clothes, I could hardly use my right hand as by this stage it was completely swollen, like the elephant man. With just enough pressure in the tire we road down the road with no helmets on leaving the last bee far behind slowly.....what a headache, it took my swollen hand a few days to return to normal!

Back to Cameroon

Leaving CAR was as much an adventure as getting there, we had to go back a little the way we had come which meant passing by a favourite check point of a few days prior but as we passed it was empty, thank goodness for that, but still there were plenty more to keep us annoyed, fuel was a problem also and one stage we payed 2 Euro a little, which for all you Aussies is about 4 dollars a litre! But out there there is nothing you can do, you need it. We finally made it to the frontier of Cameroon and what a relief but the fun was far from over, at the final police check point they asked the usual questions and to us his french made no sense, and to my right a voice, in english, it came from behind a cell door, it was a prisoner translating for us, but the door made it hard still so the policeman stood walked over and unlocked the door, the tiny room was quite full, he let the prisoner out who came over to help translate for us, once again he, the policeman wanted money, and we gave our usual reply, our translator explained, the policeman gave up, we asked our new friend why he was locked up, something to do with not paying a fine of some sort, he seemed like a nice man and I wanted to pay his debt for him but what was I to really know why he was there, with proceedings over he was locked away again in the dirty dark wet room and we were aloud to proceed, free as birds!

Down the road 100 metres saw us board a barge to cross a huge river, once across we rode a mere 1 k to another river crossing this time the barge looked very abandoned and unused, a few questions to the ladies washing clothes in the river revealed is not working and will not be anytime soon, shit what now.....I just wanted out of Bloody CAR! But alas never worry along came a man in a pirogue who said it would be no problems to take our bikes across, hmm in a dug out canoe, the whole quarter of a tone of African Twin, and the river was not small, maybe 300 metres wide! But what was our option, the border was on the other side, the heavens were about to open up on us and it was 4 pm, lets do it.....unloaded the luggage and sent the that, Amy and the Baja on the first trip, then the return of the pirouge for me and my mother ship, we wrestled it in and set of, no problems. On the other side the heavens did open on us and we sat in the Customs office for and hour trying to convince the man to stamp our Carnet and that he did not need his superior to stamp and sign it, hard work but eventually we twisted his arm as the sun was almost set, we went out the road and camped in a village that I don't think have seen a white folk for along time and some of the younger kids maybe never so a party was held for us and we danced long into the night drinking some ghastly local brew.


Yeah I was nervous!

The next day saw us back into Cameroon, we welcomed it and there was a vast improvement in treatment and also fuel availability more importantly. We reached a fork in the road and asked one man which way to the town we wanted, the left he said was long but good roads, the right short but bad roads, right then the right for us! The road was reduced to a walking trail at times with the jungle reclaiming it, then we came to a fallen tree across our path, surprisingly it move easily by both of us but then a problem and the beginning of a long chain of problems, as I went to move of the bike wallowed beneath me, I looked down and had a flat tire and the cause a huge huge nail. We pushed it back to a school yard we had just passed and I set about patching it. The problem was the glue I had had kinda gone off and lost its ability to stick, and one failed patch attempt after another saw me with three patches left and still two huge holes, some locals to the rescue, they sent a young boy who returned holding a spoon with some white milky liquid on it, I guess there jungle glue! It worked a gem, we camped in the school ground for the night.

Cameroonian motorcycle!

Just another obsticle.

One of many flat tires I encounted.

The following day saw us hit tarmac for the first time in about 2000 k's, great but 10 k's from a town my tire went down, a failed patch, the jungle glue was not as good as I first thought but at least it got me out of there. So Amy had to ride to the next town and get more patches and some good glue, Amy also took the tube to get fixed I was over it, her return 40 minutes later saw a patched tube, new patches and a bottle of cold coke, bliss. But in my haste I pinched the tube putting it back on...SHIT, SHIT, SHIT......we quickly packed up and shot to town before it went down to much, again I did not want to fix it. So with a tube with more patches on it than granny's quilt we set of for the Coast of Cameroon, Kribi, easier said than done, after about 100 k's another flat tire, this time I had no choice but to fix it myself, talk about over it! We camped not long after and made the beach the following day what a relief.

Kribi beach, Cameroon.

The Heart of Africa

Things started to get interesting after we climbed Mount Cameroon, which was spectacular, walking past the old volcanoes that only erupted a few years back. We road to Yaounde to pick up a visa or two and as the embassies were all close together we managed in two days to get Gabon, DRC Congo and CAR, yep that's right this is why thing started to get interesting, we decided to head to the Central African Republic to go in search of gorillas.

The road over to the border of Cameroon was hectic with logging truck after logging truck on the most corrugated roads you could imagine and not to mention the dust that filled our lungs. The bikes held up only just with the Baja's chain guide rubber wearing in half so a bit or glue and zip ties did the trick. We reached the frontier and was it a new world, Cameroon was a modern country compared to here, the border was one formality after another with them all wanting money but we just kept saying no and eventually they tired of it all.


Crowding in CAR, its Africa.

CAR was proving to be one challenge after another, just to go see gorillas I started to think was it worth it. As we road we noticed some of the people where very short looking but thought nothing of it but then it occurred to us they were pygmees, after all the Michelen map suggested they where in this part of Africa, we pulled over to chat with some Pygmee hunters that were caring spears, such primitive people, their teeth sharpened into points to chew meat!


The Pygmee hunters...Amy is taller than someone!

We came to one road block and was told rudely to "get down" that was to get of our motor bikes, then into there little make shift wooden hut with a whole tribe of Pygmees watching on with interest. The same angry sounding policeman told us abruptly to be seated, he spoke, as they say small small english, the others french only, they wanted passports the usual stuff, then finally they asked for money and a lot, we refused and were patient then the angry man turned to us and said "shut your mouth, give us money" hmm whats going on here I asked myself, he was drunk and he had a machine gun do I give him money or do I stand firm?? Stuff it I am standing firm was my decision, I turned to the other police officials and said this is wrong and that this man is drunk, that went down like a lead balloon, the police saying he is not, but I could smell it. Then he said"give me money I am hungry" wrong move buddy, I turned to the other policeman and said "see he only wants money for food, this wrong we want no trouble just let us pass" they started to see my side, one policeman stepped forward and took the machine gun from the drunk man, yep we had them, as he gave us another small volley of drunken slur we asked for our passports which they gave back to us and left, as we walked passed all the pygmee villages they looked at as with smiles as if to say "hey well done white man you beat them" we are determined not to pay a single bribe!!

Eventually we made it through the thick jungle and wet roads, the rains have started, to the Sangha Dzangha park in the bottom corner of CAR, I really felt like we were deep in the heart of Africa, with the borders of Congo and Cameroon only a stones throw away.

The next day we went in search of the Gorillas and we where not disappointed, with a Pygmee tracker each on the back of our bikes they directed us 30 k's into the jungle on roads that were hardly a road, through wash outs, mud, water and sand. We reached the camp where the local Biaka people stay and left the bikes for a walk through the thick jungle for about about 4 k's, on the way seeing forest elephants, dears and monkeys, its another world out there, so far from civilisation, and then there they were a family of 13 and of course one huge Silver Back to keep the order, he was a giant, we watched them for about an hour and a half searching for food on the ground in the trees, crossing streams and for the silver back just sitting back and watching us, fantastic!!

How did they know...........

.............and again!

The following day we were convinced by a German chap working out there called Philip to go to an area called the salines which is a naturally cleared area in the jungle were there is a huge concentration of wildlife, especially elephants, feeding on the unique minerals found in the soil........it was like a scene out of the Lion King, at any one time there were 70 to 80 elephants grazing, also Bongo's which are unique, Buffalo, deer and wild pigs, we sat for 3 hours perched in a tree platform watching this spectacle, that evening we enjoying cold beer and delicious food with Philip and Michele in a house...argh the simple things you miss!!

Pygmee mother and child, pancakes anyone?