Joburg to Scotland

The first thing any local will mention if you bring up Lusaka is the traffic. Despite what they say, we managed to get across Lusaka during rush hour, from Cosmopolitan Mall to Big Chicken Roundabout, in a mere 30 minutes. Not half bad.

Our first day in Lusaka took a toll on Bubbles who suffered from a snapped fan-belt. We managed to find a rally car mechanic at the campsite, Ngunjiri John, who was on his way down from Kenya to a rally in SA. With his help I was able to decrypt the tensioner mechanism and finish the replacement job. Ngunjiri John turned out to be the most awesome of guys, and the youngest looking 50 year old we’ve ever seen. He joined us for a celebratory dinner and accepted his payment in food, although ate next to nothing. Is eating less than Shea and I the secret to looking young? I don’t mention Asahi because it’s not a fair comparison. He has the appetite and metabolism of a Hungarian Mountain Pony.

In addition to new friends, we also made our first enemy of the trip. As a “permanent resident” of the campsite, the individual in question took offense to Shea’s vocal complaints about his ice-cold shower. I tried at one point to determine the guy’s occupation. Apparently he works for the Zambian Department of Trade and Agriculture and is simultaneously the primary attaché for a wealthy Zambian tribal chief. This coming from a guy living in a camping tent. Hmmm…

Our stay in Lusaka was primarily geared at getting the reserve tank issue fixed. This quest lead us to a workshop in the industrial area of Lusaka named Tork Tek where we met Cursing Cobus who was “the best auto electrician in Lusaka” and “a better auto electrician than we could ever hope to be” according to his wife Sandy (a.k.a. Hypochondria). This nickname makes sense if you consider some of the conversation that happened while Cobus’s team did their initial inspection of the problem.

Ross and Shea: “We’re thinking of popping into the city market while the car is being worked on. What is the easiest way to get there?”

Hypochondria: “Don’t go into the market, the people there have AK-47s. They will kidnap you and steal your organs.”

Ross and Shea: “Can you recommend a good place for lunch.”

Hypochondria: “Hungry Lion. Don’t eat anything from the locals.”

Note: Shea and I do not always speak in unison like a K-pop boy band, I just can’t remember who actually asked which question.

Aside from his selective vocabulary and eternally pessimistic nature, Cursing Cobus and his team turned out to be incredibly good auto electricians, maybe even the best in Lusaka. They organized an “Africa fix” for our fuel tank issue taking the replacement cost from R 10,000 to R 100 and lead time from one month to two hours.

Despite the risk of organ loss we did visit the local market and it was great. The place is alive with people selling everything from repurposed laptops to school uniforms. There are transporters running around with modified wheelbarrows at high speed through spaces you can hardly walk. You can buy everything from freshly cooked dough balls (a kind of fried bread-roll) to raw eel meat. Overall, some very interesting businesses and business models.

It’s day 16 of the trip and we have our inaugural first guest traveler that has joined the team. His name is Asahi, he’s Australian and likes long walks on the beach and flower arranging. He is named after a Japanese beer. Is the universe trying to tell us something?

By the time we arrived in Livingstone it was clear from other overland travellers we met that we needed to step up our game. We needed to do some education, networking, training and self promotion to get our start up off the ground.

Our first night in Livingstone was spent at the Crocodile & Reptile Farm with Ian and Sue Brooks. After the luxury of separate bedrooms with ceiling fans(!) we had a morning education session with Sue on what dangerous snakes we should avoid and which ones would not stress us out because if bitten, we would be dead.

We made our way to Jolly Boys Backpackers in Livingstone for some networking. I prefer hotels with concierge service but Jolly Boys turned out to be a close second and we decided to call it home for a few days. We met American Peace Corps Volunteers from Zambia and Namibia, German School Teachers volunteering in Namibia and several groups of inspiring travelers (1)(2). It was a fantastic stay and a great place to break in our new set of Cards Against Humanity.

We made a day trip to see the beautiful Victoria Falls. I did the obligatory 111m bungee jump off the Victoria Falls Bridge and we then crossed into Zimbabwe for lunch and to access ATMs for American dollars. The view of the falls from the Zimbabwe side was even better and Ross appreciated not being attacked by Baboons (yes, this happened on the Zambia side, but he did not get bitten so I assume he remains rabies free). It was a long day of border crossing bureaucracy, payment of fees, and lots of walking. The kind of practice we needed to prepare for the rest of the trip.

With education, networking and travel practice out of the way, it was time to self promote. Lucky for us, Xpro Graphics in Livingstone was open for business and ready to take the hard earned Kwacha out of our hands. We had seen several overland cars decked out with flags, graphics, branding, etc. Not to be outdone, we dressed Bubbles up in branding, flags and logos front and back and sides.

And just in case we are ever away from the car, we printed business cards to hand out as well.

A guide to crossing into Zambia at the Kazungula border crossing.

Rule #1: You are not a truck driver. Do not join the truck queue!
This beastly queue extends for kilometers. The ferry’s can only manage one truck at a time and preference is given to passenger vehicles. A truck driver can easily sit over a week in the queue waiting to cross. The locals have claimed ownership over the communal water tap and will sell you government water by the glass.

Rule #2: In the event of a sudden loss of buoyancy, swim down.
The Kazungula Ferries themselves are not SABS* approved and a couple have sunk in the past. Many of the locals are unable to swim making the death toll for a sinking vessel deplorably high. In the event of a catastrophe, swim down first and away from the non-swimmers who would drag you under.

Rule #3: Be bad at making friends.
You will be overwhelmed with scamsters trying to “assist” you with the border crossing process and drunkards offering to protect your car. In general, a healthy degree of disengagement from the individual you are dealing with is a good sign that you are in the right place, dealing with a legitimate border official.

Rule #4: Wear your fitbit (you’ll be doing some walking).
There are a total of four different vehicle related fees you need to pay at the border. Each of these payments are facilitated by a different person, sitting at the end of a different queue, in a different building / shipping container. A great example of government leading in job creation.

Rule #5: Cover your ass-ets.
It is compulsory to purchase third party insurance in Zambia. We insured at the border with General Alliance Insurance Limited. They have no contact number for claims. They don’t even have a pretend one. As futile an exercise as this may seem it is well worth doing. There is a permanent police roadbock 2km down the road from the border and they will fine you heavily if you do not have a piece of paper bearing the words “Third Party Insurance”.

Rule #6: Grab a Mielie.
There are local gogos** walking around selling boiled mielies for 5 kwacha a pop. They are delicious and make for a great snack food while you wait in the queues.

Rule #7: Keep the right change.
There are more money changers at the border than you can count and some with questionable ethics. If you want piece of mind find a place with a permanent shelter and the exchange rate written down on a board. You need a combination of USD and Zambian Kwacha for the border fees.

*SABS: The South African Bureau of Standards
**Gogo: The zulu word for granny.

Our lion ordeal spurred on our drive to spot a big cat. From that point forward every impala, wildebeest and zebra was nothing more than future cat food with Shea and I fantasizing about lion attacks unfolding before our eyes. We headed west into the heart of the Moremi Wildlife Reserve to a spot known as Third Bridge (Botswanans are very good at counting). We’d been told there were a pride of lions in the area and were lusting for a big cat sighting. It turns out the “Bridge” part of Third Bridge is a bit of an embellishment. Getting into the camp requires either a vehicle with a snorkel or an extra high clearance Land Cruiser with a lunatic American at the wheel.

Our trip to Third Bridge was the closest we’ve come to rally driving with more sand-track than we could have imagined, but still not a single lion spotting. It was time to head back to Maun for a breather and a shower. We’d lost the element of surprise. The lions could smell us coming.

Bubbles was in need of a bit of TLC* by the time we got back to civilization. We had blown a couple fuses, a spark plug cable had come loose under the bonnet, one of the engine hoses was looking dicey and the exhaust needed a bit of a weld. Luckily we found a great bunch of mechanics at Fika Trading Automotive Mechanics that sorted us out. We also acquired a rim for our rooftop spare tyre from the guys at TyreMax.

The next stop was Savuti campsite where we befriended a pair of Doctors (Paul and Beck) from Germany and Netherlands, respectively. They joined us for a late evening game drive where we tested the spotlights, the most epic thing short of the apocalypse. Still no cats but two hyena sightings and a puff-adder. It was on this trip to Savuti that the issues with Bubbles’ wiring started. By the time we got to Chobe Safari Lodge we had lost our fuel gauge, the radio and the ability to engage the reserve fuel tank. We tried to patch the issue with a bush mechanic in Kasane but only managed to conclude that diagnosing the cause of the problem was going to be a much bigger job. We’d been told Jolly Boys Backpackers, in Livingstone, was an oasis of sorts so we decided to push through into Zambia in search of a proper mechanic that could help us out.

*TLC: Tender Love and Care

After the relaxing vibe of the Old Bridge Backpackers in Maun, we headed to Okavango with a tentative plan to wild camp* at “Nick’s Secret Camping Spot” outside of Mababe. Following GPS coordinates through an abandoned campsite, we arrived at the river where two dozen hippos and a MASSIVE elephant were splashing around to cool off from the midday heat. Also enjoying the view was a local Bots safari guide and former elephant hunter named Garrick. He had converted to photography after meeting his vegetarian girlfriend Sonya (choose wisely friends!). Garrick confirmed the pool was great for game watching and also mentioned that a pride of lions was known to roam the area. We sort of heard him, and then continued with our day following Garrick for an incredible game drive seeing more elephants than we could count. And not just elephants, we saw SO MANY ANIMALS, the Moremi Game Reserve is incredible and deserves your visit.

As the day waned we decided to overnight at Nick’s Secret Camping Spot. We arrived before sunset and took some awesome pictures of the pool and remaining hippos before setting up the tent. We were starting the stove to cook dinner when we heard the first lion roar. Our best guess had the animal at 1km away. Dinner was postponed until we got the fire started and jet fuel would not have helped start it fast enough. With enough wood to burn down Valhalla, we crouched between the fire and the car and contemplated eating dinner or being dinner. Then another roar, probably 500m away. Surprisingly, we were no longer hungry and jumped in the car, doors locked, windows up. How long is too long to hide inside a car from a pride of lions when you are sweating to death? After 10 minutes, we decided to sleep in the car. After 30 minutes it became clear from the fog on the windows and dampness of our clothes that this was unreasonable. Escape planning ensued. Mind you, darkness has arrived. Our headlamps are only good for 20 meters at best. When a lion attacks, do you really have 20m of their charging time to get safe? I’m not an impala, I don’t jump 3m high at the drop of a hat.

So the plan was this – Ross, was to exit the vehicle and climb the ladder to the rooftop tent. If he made it alive I would consider joining. Otherwise, at least the car would be cooler without him. The good news, Ross made it upstairs. With windows down, I was able to throw him the sleeping bags, pillows and bug spray (why the F$%& we cared about bug spray at this point is irrelevant).

Eventually, mustering the kind of courage the British had marching into Isandlwana, I made a run for the rooftop. Only once I was safely inside the tent and I could hear something besides the pounding of my heart did I hear again the lion(s) roar (yes, plural). And they were now closer. At this point, we did not know we were basically 98% safe in the rooftop tent. So naturally we recorded on my phone a going away message for our mothers while simultaneously cursing ourselves for trying to save 150 pula by not paying for a camping site. Perhaps another day we will post this video. For now, think Blair Witch meets Lion King.

*wild camp American Translation: pitching a tent anywhere as opposed to in an organized campsite

Dear Readers,

As you may have noticed, we have been unable to post a day by day account of events and experiences on the blog. The past week has shown us that bumpy African roads are no place for a passenger to be typing and WiFi is too limited to post regularly even if we did write you every day. We have made a commitment to write continuously and then post the best stories as soon as we have WiFi. In this way we like to imagine your reading more like Guantanamo Bay Waterboarding instead of Chinese Water Torture.

Stay Thirsty,
Ross and Shea

We left Gabs and made our way to Khama II Rhino Sanctuary. We were lucky the gate was open when we arrived after dark, even luckier the camp store was open and selling beer!

Our game drive on Sunday morning was fantastic with too many animals to list so we have started a new section on the blog just to show you pictures. Due to either our neophytic reconnaissance skills or an error in the naming of the Khama II Rhino Sanctuary, we saw no rhino! There is something special about driving at 8 mph in a car that is averaging 4 mpg and not spotting the prized animal.

Leaving the reserve and continuing north the plan was one night in Maun at a backpackers (American translation: hostel) and then onward and upward into the Okavango Delta and Chobe National Park. It’s important to remember that though we left 12 days behind schedule, we still had not finished all the preparation necessary for a trip of this scope. With this in mind, we headed out in Maun to buy a spare tire, a spare key, spare food and spare booze. We managed to accomplish three of these before heading into a vast wilderness that had no cellphone reception.

Our first evening of the trip was spent in Gaborone, Botswana, where Hugh and Coral Ross treated us to a feast of an evening with their friends Charlie, Jill, Julia, Reliable Rod and Tinkles followed by dessert and coffee with their Ozzy neighbours Peter and Audine. They have been incredibly generous hosts and invaluable guides for future bushwacking up in Northern Botswana.

We’d noted a duration of 10 days for our transit through Botswana which our hosts in Gaborone later pointed out may be a bit tight if we have vehicle issues. Hugh and Coral stay only 20 minutes from the border so it looks like we will be making a 10 minute transit back into SA tomorrow morning to upgrade to 30 days. It’s a 500m walk between the SA and Botswana border post, marking the start of our overland exercise regime.

After tying up the “last few loose ends” for the last 12 days we are finally on our way. It seemed only right to depart with a champagne send-off for our “champagne” coloured car (code name: Bubbles).

We are short a second spare rim but will sort that out in Botswana. At least we’re on the road!