My philosophy is ‘enjoy life, no-one gets out alive’ and to this end I plan regular adventures of one sort or another. Just before Christmas 2009 the idea of escaping into the unknown on a motorcycle was born. My daughter and her boyfriend were up for the challenge, knowing that at times it was going to be tough, demanding, wild, maybe dangerous but a once in a lifetime experience . We knew it would be tremendous fun and as novices (me in particular) we also knew that our motorcycling skills would definitely improve as we planned lots of off road riding on this trip.
The rough idea was to leave from Durban and head for a meal of prawns washed down with the local , Dois M, in Maputo, Mozambique, then set off up the coast taking little sand roads to Who-Knows-Where along the way. From Who-Knows-Where to somewhere well after Vilanculo and just before Beira we planned to head inland and cross the Zambezi on the Dona Ana Bridge, the longest railroad bridge in Africa. From there the plan became a little more vague but the general idea was to head for Lake Malawi, board the ferry with the motorcycles and disembark at the northern end of the lake which would be about the right time to start heading for home. Off course we planned to visit an island or two and to snorkel amongst the famed cichlids at Cape Maclear
Our intentions were to have a blast but we also felt the need to try and help improve the lives of others. We had read the stats and it seemed that unwanted pregnancies in Africa cause untold heartache and death. RRT Medcon kindly donated condoms which we had hoped to carry in an accompanying 4X4 and distribute at remote clinics. Unfortunately the 4X4 plan didn’t work out but we had a volunteer, Allan, who kindly helped us donate these condoms in Northern KZN.
So, we were on our own. We bought ourselves little second -hand motorcycles, Lara and Clayton bought a Yamaha XTZ 125cc each and I bought a Yamaha TTR250 cc. We had home built carriers welded up, put heavy duty tubes into the tires, bought a few spares and some jerry cans, tested the bikes out the day before we left and were ‘A’ for away. Leatt Brace donated 2 neck braces for us to wear which certainly gave us peace of mind; we wore minimal protective gear but did feel that our proper riding boots were essential.
Our friends gave us an awesome send-off after breakfast at Beach Bums in Tongaat. Lara wobbled her way to Richards Bay where our friend, Tjaart adjusted the back shock to the hardest setting which solved the problem. In the meantime Clayt discovered his packing arrangement didn’t work as his bike was so top heavy it simply fell over when he tried to park it ! Lots of laughs later we ended up at Bushbaby’s campsite near Hluhluwe where we watched the rugby in a festive atmosphere. Even with the teething problems we managed to cover 320kms on our first day.
The following day we experienced the first of only two rainy days on the entire trip so August is certainly the month to do it in if you want to avoid the rain. We had fantastic weather, of course the further north we travelled the hotter it got and I longingly thought of my ventilated motorcycling jacket at home while I sweltered in a hiking jacket that I planned to use for my ascent of Mount Mulange in Malawi. I had brought 3 sets of clothing and a sarong – 1 set of riding/hiking clothing, 1 set of non-riding, relaxing clothing and 1 set of ‘jolling’ clothing which I only wore once so they could have been left behind. My advice here is taking as little as you can get away with and don’t forget the sarong which has a multitude of uses.
Riding through Swaziland was an absolute pleasure. Most of the time we seemed to have the well sign posted road all to ourselves. We had a forced roadside stop when Lara discovered that the nut, bolt and lock washer arrangement on her rear sprocket was working loose. This was to give us a few problems as it was not possible to screw back into place. Eventually, just outside of Maputo, at a roadside vendor we bought an old bolt which solved the problem. The vendor, seeing Lara’s desperation, charged her R70.00. Lesson learnt – carry a small selection of nuts and bolts with you.


Maputo and heaven in the form of gigantic Tiger Prawns, fresh Barracuda and ice cold Dois M’s. From here on up the coast we could look forward to seafood and Dois M at the end of a hard day’s riding. We rode nearly every day, covering distances up to (our longest day) 488kms. On our ‘relax’ days we would invariably end up adventure riding – there really was so much to see and do on this trip!
Four days into the trip my ‘new’ just-installed-by-a-motorcycle-company, electrics packed up and while trying to find the problem I found that they had also neglected to spray my air filter which was dry as a bone. Anyway luckily I discovered this early in the trip and immediately sprayed it but unfortunately couldn’t fix the electrics. The only other mechanical problems were minor; Lara and Clayton’s chains needed adjusting a lot of the time. They seemed to stretch very quickly, fly off the back sprocket and then jam in the front sprocket. Clayton became a master at the art of the quick fix.
Our campsite at Vilanculo looked out over impossibly white sand and blue sea with the Bazaruto Archipelago right there and picturesque dhows at anchor. I thought of where I could be had we not done this trip and I felt so fortunate and privileged to be there. After this our next overnight stop at Inchope was to prove a turning point for Clayton. Up until now our campsites had been clean, picturesque and quite ‘first world’. I think if Clayton could have, he would have gone home at this point. While he sat glumly on his bike bag Lara and I put up the tents hoping the browsing goats didn’t include tent in their diet. This ‘campsite’ which we were charged for, was covered in refuse, did not have a toilet or running water and the last straw for Clayt –the s were exorbitantly priced! Well he survived this campsite and nothing fazed him after this; he was invincible. He later even ate a roadside purchase of a suspiciously sparrow-like bird on a skewer. Meeting the inspirational round-the-world bicyclist, Roy Sedan, was the cherry on top.
Crossing the Zambezi on the Dona Ana Bridge has to be one of the most exciting things I have done in a long time. This 3.7 km railway bridge has a narrow, maybe 1m wide, pedestrian walkway alongside the tracks. Lara and Clayton accepted the helping hands who lifted their bikes up onto the bridge walkway. I tried to ride my bike up onto the bridge via a narrow shiny plank. Halfway up the wheels started spinning, I lost all traction and gazing with horror into the brown, churning, croc and hippo infested river below I started falling over. I was immensely grateful to the guys who caught me; obviously this is how they earned their daily living. This crossing was epic. Halfway along a 125 cc motorcycle coming from the opposite side and loaded with toddler, father, mother, baby on mothers back and some suitcases crashed head-on into me. Luckily I had stopped but the impact twisted my bike and jammed my hand in the bridges metalwork. We were all helped on our way by the locals who are without fail hospitable, friendly, wonderful people. Apart from pedestrians carrying goats, chickens, etc and motorcyclists there were numerous bicycles mostly carrying cargo. When we eventually reached the other side we were somewhat surprised by the fact that there was no road. Of course we hadn’t thought it through – there was no reason for a road and to illustrate the point at that moment we heard the blast of a train’s whistle. As it passed we looked hopefully along its tracks expecting to see a path of some sort but nothing. Eventually in my awful broken Portuguese I asked someone the way to Mocuba and they pointed out a meandering pedestrian path through the huts of the village. We all agreed that the 200kms to Mocuba was the hardest section yet.
By the time we reached Gurue, where we stayed for 2 nights, we were utterly exhausted. We had broken our own rule of not travelling after dark and had discovered that Lara and my headlights were so dim as to be useless. Clayton’s headlight was good so we had to ride behind him in V formation into Gurue. Adventure biking in the surrounding hills the next day with no heavy luggage was an absolute treat.
We had a spectacular ride to Malema on a road best described as a bicycle track. We could see the fabled Malema Peaks in the distance. At one point the track disintegrated under me, my bike spun around 180 degrees and I took a headlong dive into the bushes. Lara and Clayton are still laughing, but were there in a split second to help me. In the afternoon we took a challenging ride on footpaths, across rock faces, through streams and over boulders into the Malema Mountains and were surrounded by breath taking scenery.
There were many occasions when we were truly grateful to have small lightweight bikes. I really feel that these bikes are perfect for the African roads and the surprises which kept popping up in the form of the dodgiest ferries across fast flowing rivers like the Shire River; planks laid haphazardly across gaping holes in the road; the talcum powder soft sand to the Quissico Beach campsite; the 19 hairpin bend road to Livingstonia that turned into slippery clay on the only other day it rained. My Yamaha XT660R was safely parked in my garage at home and I never once regretted my decision to leave it behind. However, on my next trip where I anticipate better roads …..
In Malema we made the decision to aim for Malawi but overnight at Mandimba en-route. Mandimba was dismal so we pressed on through the border. Once again we ended up travelling at night with Clayton leading the way. We knew by the climbing and the twists and turns that we were missing out on spectacular scenery so we came back and did it again the next day and were well rewarded by the scenery. Our first night in Malawi was spent at Palm Beach campsite where we were happily introduced to the local , Kutche Kutche. We were instant converts and this became our sundowner of choice. We were amazed that at some places we paid the equivalent of R4.00 for one quart of this . We were also introduced to the local hippo population here and judging by the loud grunts we were camped way too close, so midnight saw a somewhat panicked Lara urging us to drag our tents and move our bikes to a safer spot alongside the restaurant.
A highlight of our stay at Palm Beach was a visit to Liwonde National Park, an experience to cherish. There is something a little nerve wracking riding one's (very small) bike along a treacherous deep sand track with steaming elephant dung liberally scattered around. One almost expects to ride bang into an elephant around the next bend. We went on a wonderful river cruise and weren’t disappointed. Our river cruise had a Jurassic Park like quality, with animals in abundance - Enormous crocodiles sunning themselves, well camouflaged monitor lizards hanging off bushes, rafts of bellowing hippo, herds of elephant and a variety of buck, warthog etc
From here it was off to Cape Maclear. The weather was sunny and cloudless, an ideal day for snorkeling. We went by boat to a nearby island and snorkeled in a sheltered bay. The fish were like a myriad of jewels... sparkling turquoises, deep purples, lumo greens, bright yellows and dayglo oranges. If that was not enough, we were treated to a fish braai which attracted cheeky colourful lizards that were bold enough to snatch tidbits from your hand. All the while the Fish Eagles called out for their share which they swooped down for. A sunset cruise back and an ice cold Kutche Kutche put the finishing touches to another perfect day in paradise!
Lake Malawi is like a sea. It has beaches with beach sand and islands and when the wind blows it has big waves. I had to keep reminding myself that it’s an inland lake, especially when I felt seasick in bad weather later that night. We had boarded the M.V.Ilala at her home port of Monkey Bay for the 3 day cruise to Chilumba stopping at other ports en-route. Once again we felt that light weight motorcycles were the way to go as they had to be manually lifted from the dock onto the fore deck of the ship, and then manhandled into place. We had reasonably luxurious but cockroach infested cabins, which forced Lara to pitch her tent on top of her bunk. The stops were raucous and entertaining with about an hour of squawking, quacking, bleating and shouting madness, loading people and goods on and off. Order was only restored upon our departure. At the stops we grabbed the opportunity to have a quick visit of the local sights. I found the ideal way to do this was to hop on a bicycle taxi and be pedaled around by a young man with calves of steel. The cathedral on Leoma Island deserves special mention as it is so unexpected and such an architectural masterpiece.
Around midnight on our third day we arrived at Chilumba and our bikes were swiftly and efficiently offloaded. We were deposited on shore in the pitch dark but managed to find our way to the unfriendly Sangilo Sanctuary, not a sanctuary at all but a campsite. Our 1am arrival did not endear us to the grumpy camp owner. The voyage on the M.V. Ilala was an amazing experience and one of the things I had been dying to do for years.
Well, back on terra firma it was with mixed feelings that we now were homeward bound. We still had loads of exploring, adventure and fun in front of us but given the option I think we could all quite happily have kept on riding through Africa. So far the local people had been friendly, informative and helpful. There were times when our gear was spread all over the road while we searched for an elusive spanner and although we were consistently the object of fascination for the locals who tended to crowd around us, nothing was ever so much as touched. In fact, in one of the villages, Lara lost a luggage tie down. She only realized this when, in her rear view mirror, she saw a person running behind her trying to give back her tie down. Violent crime seems to be a rarity and unheard of in most areas. We never felt in any way threatened or nervous as we do in South Africa. I wonder why this is. Even the police at the numerous roadblocks were courteous and simply waved us on our way after a few basic questions.
From Lukwe Eco Camp, where we were spoilt with a wooden cabin and a spectacular view down the valley, we hiked to the highest falls in Malawi. We passed through a fascinating perma culture garden which I am going to have a shot at emulating at home. We continued heading south along Lake Malawi enjoying a bit of kayaking, swimming and hiking. I had developed a worrying oil leak which I diagnosed as a leaking clutch cover gasket. My remedy was to top up to the half way mark every time it needed it which was roughly every second day. Clayt’s tire was showing canvas as the wheel was dented and the tire was wearing unevenly. Lara's many spills were starting to take their toll on her bike, but luckily not her body.
We met such interesting people. Two local artists adorned Clayt's T-shirt as well as my bike while keeping their creative juices flowing with "Malawi Gold". In Selima we spent some time chatting to George Bester, a fellow overlander travelling all by himself on his well appointed motorbike, riding from Cape to Cairo and loving every moment. Before arriving at Cool Runnings in Senga Bay (aka Margate in holiday season on Lake Malawi) we coincidentally met up again with Roy Sadan, the lone cyclist now pedaling for Tanzania and he regaled us with horror stories of his stay in Tete Hospital after coming down with a bout of malaria and some other strange ailment. Nothing could wipe the smile off his face though and it shone with his love of life. He is one amazing guy!
It was at about this point that I developed serious respect for Clayton. I had noticed street vendors on the roadside waving sticks with something impaled on them at us as we rode past. Clayt, feeling a bit peckish, decided to stop and investigate. To Lara and my absolute astonishment he said ‘I’ll have one of those” and proceeded to eat a bird off the stick and followed up by using it’s scrawny little feet as a tooth pick. Well, when in Malawi ….
On, on, to Blantyre. The traffic increased dramatically. Now, besides the usual ton of bicyclists, pedestrians and animals, we also had to contend with trucks, buses, cars, taxis... We found Doogles Backpackers in the dodgiest part of town but it suited us. We were able to park the bikes right outside the dorm, watch the rugby, have a decent meal, get a new chain for Clayts bike and go to a Shoprite! At 4am we were woken up by a rampaging Bulls supporter, terrorizing the backpackers. He threw our door open, yelled "What are you people doing here?" and ran off swearing into the night.... Clayt was angle grinding links off his new chain at the crack of dawn. After a successful job we set off to Mount Mulanje, the supposed largest monolith in the world. It surpasses even Ayers rock in Australia. It is also the highest mountain in Malawi. We hoped to climb to the highest point, Sapitwa Peak at 3005m. It’s a three day round trip and we planned to overnight in mountain huts. Sadly, shortly before our arrival an experienced Brazilian mountaineer perished on this mountain while attempting to summit Sapitwa..
Feeling rather ill equipped in our combo biking/mountaineering outfits we set off with a guide and a porter. Nine excruciating hours later, after a steady but steep climb, we reached Chisepo Hut. The sun went down and with it the temperature. We spent the night with many other well equipped hikers, in a hut filled with aromatic cedar smoke from the fireplace. Four weeks in the saddle did not prepare us for what this mountain had to offer, but... it's an experience we won’t forget.
The following morning Clayton and myself set off early on the 6 hr, cliff face, boulder bashing, wind pummeling expedition to summit the highest peak in central Africa... Sapitwa peak. Lara decided summiting was not one of her goals. We returned victorious and set off on weary legs to Chambe hut, four hours away. We arrived at sunset at the cozy, wooden mountain hut, with a huge old stone fireplace. This was Lara’s dream spot.
Happiness was jumping back on the ‘bonies’ for a rough ride on the dirt .We crossed the border at Zobue and made it into Tete, found a campsite on the banks of the mighty Zambezi River and sundowners in hand watched the sun go down in a blaze of colour.
We rode in the crazy conditions we had by now become accustomed to. At one point Lara was ridden right off a 20km sand detour by a speeding truck observing the ‘might is right’ rule. She ended up in the ditch, unhurt with a kindly passerby helping her to pull her bike back onto the road. We stayed in a most unlikely R10.00 a night theme park campsite; we rode through thick mist and passed through Chimoio, Gondola and Inchope. Finally we arrived at Inhassorro which we found to be a dump … and expensive. My bike was now losing quite a bit of oil which was spraying on the back tire and my front suspension was making a loud clacking noise and cornering became somewhat adrenalin inducing. Then came the section where there are more car-swallowing potholes than tar .This is where Clayton lost his back brake completely and his chain came off and jammed in the front sprocket. He found a shady spot and fifteen minutes later, we were on the road again.
Just another 16kms of soft sand later and we were on the Inhambane Peninsula at Coconut Bay. Our campsite was tucked behind a dune in a grove of coconut palms. The ocean has a reef extending out from the shore and whales were frolicking. We sipped our ice cold Dois M's in a little thatch and grass pub. This place is picture postcard perfect. Two days later we had to force ourselves to leave this lovely spot.
488 kilometers to Maputo!On our small bikes this was a looooong way. We set off early, the dew had settled the sand, the surface was more visible and I had a lovely ride. Lara wasn't so lucky as her chain came off and stuck in the front sprocket. But by now Clayton was something of an expert at extracting chain from cog and Lara was hastily back on track. We passed through Incoonga, the home of chilli sauce of every description. Bottles of the stuff festoon rough roadside shelves and branches. Then on through the beautiful Inharrime which begs more exploration - yes, I will go back there. The road for many kms before Xai-Xai was an absolute mess with gigantic pot holes and the dreaded 'desvio's' (detours) all along the route. We stopped for a break at a roadside cafe where the owner told us of a shortcut into Maputo. We took his advice and had a most interesting ride seeing places we would not have seen otherwise and getting in a little earlier than we expected. Our usual spot, Maputo Backpackers, was full, so no soft bed. However, we were able to pitch our tents in the driveway on the hard marble tiles. Oh well such is life on the road! Full marks to Lara & Clayton who went to the fish market and bought a ton of Tiger prawns and crabs as well as our favourite Moz. s, Dois M. So with our seafood fiesta we finished the day on a well deserved high.
We woke up to a cool, blustery day - perfect for riding ---- but of course, in my opinion, every day is perfect for riding. We had decided to try the border post at Goba instead of the chaotic Namaacha and what a pleasure. The ride there was scenic, we had the entire border post and all its staff to ourselves and we were through into Swaziland in record time. Swaziland is wonderful. As with Mozambique and Malawi the people are courteous, friendly and hospitable. The roads, unlike Mozambique, are smoothly tarred and well sign posted. At the South African border post I cringed when the person ahead of me was treated with rude disrespect, summarily dismissed and the order "NEXT" was shouted out. Despite this it was wonderful to be back in South Africa
We slept at the border town of Golela and in the morning headed off in the direction of Jozini with Allan, who had kindly offered to bring the boxes of condoms in his 4x4 and help with the distribution. This was a route I had been dying to do on my bike. However the front suspension which I had become suspicious of in my sand forays (I had blamed myself), now just didn't seem right. Anyway I gingerly rode on and we were directed to a rural clinic by the helpful local police. We met the delightful Lindani, the research assistant who is in charge of HIV/Aids education. She educated us in the fact that men who have paid lobola for a woman consider her as theirs to do with as they please - and condoms are definitely not part of the deal. A doctor came to join us and agreed that he would never consider using a condom! A nursing sister also joined the conversation and informed us that she would certainly be trying out all the different flavoured condoms that very night so not to expect her at work the next day as she would be too tired! We did feel that flavoured and coloured condoms have more appeal and are more likely to be used because they are seen as fun and not just a necessity. Then we hit the dirt / sand roads, went through a river and on to the next few clinics. At one of them we said we had a donation for them and were told to come back later as it was their lunch break! Generally the response was good and it seems to us that the women really want to try and protect themselves but cultural ways make it very difficult for them. We ended off the day at one of my favourite places, a KZN Wildlife hutted camp at False Bay called Dugandhlovu.
From Dugandhlovu we rode to St. Lucia where we booked into 'Sugarloaf', the KZN campsite. The river there abounds with hippos and crocs and the fishermen are virtually casting their sinkers onto the hippos heads. Friends and family joined us - thank you so much Mike and Joy - we all had a wonderful evening! I don't think any of us noticed the hard ground we slept on later at the campsite.
We had heard the hippo grunting through the night but luckily they stuck to their side of the mangroves. We watched the Springboks annihilate the All Blacks and lift the Tri- Nations trophy. 'Some of us' chose to continue the festivities at the Fur Elize watching the Sharks beat the Bulls but I don't know who was more trashed, the Bulls or the Car Surfers.
Sadly, the last day of our BIG ADVENTURE. After filling up with petrol it was Durbs, here I come. Lara, Clayton and co. had opted for a Wimpy breakfast - not my cup of coffee. Actually, I had already eaten and was raring to go! Apart from the oil leak which I had learnt to manage my steering became alarmingly more and more unstable. Luckily I had Allan as backup and made it in one piece all the way home. My wonderful friend Reinet was standing at my gate (forewarned by Allan) with explosive gizmo's shooting streamers all over me and jumping up and down. What a fantastic welcome home!
Of course there is much that I have missed at home in the 6 weeks that I have been away but hopping on my bike each morning while on the trip and heading off into the unknown is truly something I would love to do again . A trip like this broadened our horizons, increased our self confidence and above all it made me realize just how lucky I am to be who I am. Even though I am 56 years old I will continue leading an exciting life and dreaming up new adventures. And if I can do it, anyone can!

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