Diary: All

Malawi

I'm sorry we haven't updated for a while, we've been really quite busy. Janey and I decided that we really couldn't go back to the UK so have decided to stay in sunny Malawi!

We now run a campsite in the capital city of Malawi, Lilongwe.

So if your ever passing drop by and say hello!

Mabuya Camp, Livingstone Road, Area 3. Lilongwe

www.mabuyacamp.com

Oh yes and Alf is happy as he has two new friends to play with.

Thankyou!

Tom writes − Decided we would head back to Lilongwe today and Janey made me promise to go slower on the road on the way back. I did, and with another swift border crossing we were back in lovely Malawi with its smiling people and beautiful lake views.

We are staying in Lilongwe for a couple of days to wait for our visa waiver for Zambia to come through − which will save us $120 so is definitely worth having. Then we are planning to head up to South Luangwa national park for a few days before coming back to Malawi and heading north along the lake and then up in to Tanzania to meet Gilly and Arthur.

We decided to stay at the Golf Club as two (very large) resident dogs at Kiboko camp seem to think Alfie is rather snack-sized. When we pulled in we met two other vehicles which had both been in Senga bay. The little yellow mog − which was lucky, as we were able to return the adapter they had kindly lent us, and a German couple with their four year old daughter Sylvie, travelling in a Land Cruiser with a very cool bright red pop-top trailer. They had also come down through west Africa and then shipped from Ghana to Durban.

On Friday we were joined by Jean and Geoff − a retired English couple who had also come from west Africa and who, like us, had driven all the way. They are in their very trusty Land Cruiser, which is near to completing its second trans-African trip (they drove down the east coast two years ago), without (touch wood) any major problems. They've got a great set up and are quite clearly pros at this overlanding malarkey. We compared notes on the Congo and Nigeria and giggled (I'm still smirking thinking about it) at Geoff's 'Grumpy Old Man' act. We had a very entertaining evening − thanks! They are at www.gonewandering.co.uk .

The Golf club might sound like an unlikely spot for a campsite but actually it's quite pleasant. There's a (slightly green) pool and plenty of space to walk Alfie − although you have to start early as it's pretty hot during the day. We spent a bit of time exploring Lilongwe (it doesn't take long!) and definitely coming to the conclusion that it is the most agreeable African city we know, although it would be even better with the addition of Ouagadougou's breakfast bars.

We left Kiboko earlyish this morning and headed in to town to try and find a book shop that we had heard might sell English newspapers. It had closed and its replacement didn't, but we picked up a few other essential supplies. Next stop we thought we'd visit Lilongwe market but it is located between two enormous combie-stations and we got totally ensnarled in a chaos of minibuses and by the time we had escaped we decided it would be easier to go somewhere else and have a quiet drink before heading for the airport. However, in this we were thwarted to as the city centre end of Lilongwe turned out not to be exactly brimming with cafe culture, so we decided to head to the airport directly.

The airport was very quiet and the car park surrounded by more lovely flowering wisteria trees, covered in bright lilac bell-shaped flowers. We parked in the shade, fetched some cokes (which turned out to be sprites, as that was all they had!) and knocked up a Salad Nicoise − it's so handy being able to buy hard-boiled eggs on every street corner.

All too quickly it was time to say goodbye, whereupon we both blubbed like toddlers, but managed to get her safely checked in for the flight to Jo'burg − the first leg of her long journey to India and next adventure. I am so excited for her, and so looking forward to hearing all the news, but I miss her already.

Happily Malawi is such a reasonably-sized place that we didn't have to leave until midday. We spent the morning swimming and packing up and then headed out to the huge long line of curio stalls that we had seen on the way to Salima. There are over fifty different stalls, so Kate and I decided to methodical and start at one end and work our way down. I was particularly on the look out for one of the big Malawian wooden bowls which are beautifully smooth and round and made from ebony. However, the vast majority of them have endless animal carvings all over them − which I used to like but have now seen too much of. Eventually we found some beautiful plain ones which Kate and I immediately fell in love with. We ummed and ahhed and haggled hard and eventually came to a price that we were all happy with. With the bowls in hand, along with pair of salad servers apiece and a pair of carved heads for Kate we retreated, very happy with our purchases.

From there we climbed and climbed towards Lilongwe, through the dry hills. Malawi is not far from the beginning of the rainy season and the land is parched. We passed through lots of villages, with their chickens, goats and well-maintained huts surrounded by immaculately swept yards. Happily we have seen many more schools and school-children than in Mozambique, although it's difficult to tell whether the children are in school as they sometimes go in shifts at different times of day.

Eventually we arrived in Lilongwe, and made our way through streets lined with tree-wisteria and bougainvillea, past the golf club and on to Kiboko camp, which is a real sanctuary with a great selection of trees, flowers and birds in the gardens. We were almost surprised to discover that we had driven right through the centre of town on the way to get there − Lilongwe has to be the least hectic of all the African capital cities we have been to, much quieter than the commercial centre of Blantyre.

Kate and I are both beginning to get a little depressed by the thought of saying goodbye tomorrow but we enjoyed our last evening, having a yummy chicken stew cooked by Kiboko's restaurant and sitting under the trees in the moonlight, contemplating the African stars and looking back over what has been a very eventful and unbelievably enjoyable month. On the one hand, neither of us can believe it's nearly over already, but on the other hand, it feels like aeons since Kate arrived in Jo'burg, not to mention that we've travelled across three countries.

As it was Monday today, we decided to try and have a slightly more productive day. First of all we piled into the truck and headed to the big market in Salima to pick up some fruit − first papaya in ages − as well as tomatoes, potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, eggs etc. Kate took some pictures of the stalls selling dried fish, pulses, and fabric − Malawian markets are particularly photogenic. We picked up some fried sweet potato slices on the way back which we had with eggs for brunch.

Next on the list was India preparations − Kate rang a hotel in Mumbai and booked her first few nights and a pick-up from the airport − at 4.30am, ouch, but we are hoping that at least it might be vaguely cooler. I renewed our subscription to World Space − our truly fantastic satellite radio service that I couldn't live without and highly recommend to anyone planning a trip around Africa. We do also have a short wave radio, but it doesn't work at all in the mog (it being a metal box), meaning that you can't listen to it at night, which is a pain. On World Space we get BBC London as well as various BBC Africa services, along with commercial radio stations such as Talk Sport (vital for keeping us up to date with the footie and cricket) and even Virgin. All we have to do is plonk the little dish (about five inches across) on the roof once we've parked up and there's crystal clear digital reception. You can also get a huge range of international stations − American, French, music from all over − and even Radio Berber. They should really give me sponsorship for such a great write-up.

After that and a few other bits and pieces we decided to concentrate on tackling Kate's backpack. On the way out here she was loaded with stuff for us − especially books, but also a few bits and pieces that she won't need in India, so we are decided her big heavy bag could definitely be lightened a bit. We were ruthless with everything and happily the load now looks considerably more portable.

In the evening we decided to head to the restaurant at the hotel next door for dinner, which was a great move. We ate on a covered veranda looking over the lake, a perfect location for some delicious fresh fish.

Another scorching day. Today we possibly did even less than yesterday − more reading, more swimming and a bit of getting ready to have another look at the nightjars. Showed Kate some more of the photos from the trip down − she sat through endless shots of Congolese mud with very good grace.

A large church group appeared mid-morning and spent most of the day in and out of the water (ladies with all their clothes on), and having a huge tug-of-war match on the beach. In the afternoon they split into two groups − men and women and went and found a shady spot to sit in, the women under a tree on the grass and the men ranged in rows on the wide concrete steps in front of the bar. They were then preached to by one of their number, and they started off listening very attentively although we did notice that attention appeared to be wandering by the end!

The nightjars did indeed appear and were just as spectacular and excitement-inducing all over again.

We bought some just-caught chambo from some fishermen in a dugout canoe and barbecued them for dinner under the stars.

This morning was a pleasure − we woke up to see the golden sand of the lake beach along the entire length of the campsite, and the lake itself stretching out to the horizon, broken only by lizard island, a few miles away. We are parked up at the far end of the camp, near some huge boulders that are regularly frequented by large monitor lizards − a metre and a half long or so.

Early this morning, several of the other overlanders left the campsite − and told us that it had a reputation for getting very busy at weekends, filling up with locals from Lilongwe here to enjoy a day out of town. A few parties did indeed materialise, and barbecues and music followed, none of which bothered us unduly, and Tom had a few quiet chortles watching various vehicles get stuck in the sand on the beach after some truly unskilled driving antics.

We spent most of the day reading in the shade and swimming in the lake − hoping that this is indeed a bilharzias free area as everyone claims. It was a hot day and the lake is like a gigantic cool swimming pool − it feels more like a sea but it doesn't leave you salty, just perfect. There are plenty of little fish to be seen too. Other than that, the day's entire achievements involved walking up to the nearest village to get a few tomatoes to make a salad for lunch − along with some tuna naturally, feta (strangely one of the most widely available cheeses in southern Africa), a tin of chickpeas and some left-over rice from last night, yummy. We have definitely chanced upon a great spot for Kate's last few days in Africa so she can gather her strength for tackling the madness of India.

In the evening Patrick and Corinne from the little yellow mog (www.tiretracks.org) brought their chairs over and we sat around comparing notes on Unimogs and west Africa and listening to their stories from east Africa (they shipped from Ghana to Kenya and are now heading south down to Cape Town). Whilst we were chatting away, after the sun had set, in that very brief few minutes before it turns pitch black, I heard Kate say in a surprised voice, "Is that a bat?" (the call is very similar). I looked up, and within seconds I had leapt from my chair and literally started jumping up and down in excitement, gesticulating wildly − much to the surprise of our new friends (the old ones know me better.). "IT'S A PENNANT-WINGED NIGHTJAR" I yelped, hardly able to get the words out, excitement level at stratospheric.

Mainly thanks to Redmond O Hanlon and his truly wonderful and very funny book, 'Congo Journey', I have been looking out for this bird since we left the UK, without any luck. But today, my luck was most definitely definitely in. Not one, not two, nor even three or four, but at least seven! (Between us, our estimates ranged up to ten). Andy and Esther we wish you were here to share the joy!! For those who don't have a bird book to hand, the (male) nightjar in question has truly spectacular half-metre long streamers trailing out from his striking black and white wings.

Within a few minutes they had all disappeared, flying off in a slightly wobbly fashion, presumably hindered by the aforementioned streamers. The excitement on the other hand, lasted all night (for me anyway). I went to bed with a big grin on my face, busily plotting to have search lights and camera ready for tomorrow evening.

As usual, it got noisy as soon as it was light, which was around 5.30am − what with sweeping and cockerels and the normal morning sounds of Africa. So after our (included) breakfast and packing up we were in town by 8.30am. Our first chore was to pick up some vehicle insurance from the big Nico office, which the people at the border had forgotten to tell us we needed. It didn't take long and we added the sticker to our windscreen.

Our most important port of call was the Air Malawi office, to pick up the ticket that Kate had booked from Lilongwe to Johannesburg. We took bets on how the spelling of Westmacott might have ended up. As it turned out, the spelling was fine, but the price was somewhat disputed − the price she had been quoted was for the Blantyre-Jo'burg flight and the Lilongwe one was more expensive, yadayada. After a bit of negotiation, the price returned to the quote, but although she had been definitely told on the phone she could pay with dollars, no, kwacha it was. So we headed off to the nearest cash machine to take out various bundles on various cards until we had raised the necessary (and quite unpleasantly large) sum.

With the ticket safely stowed, we headed off to an internet cafe and Tom headed to Mercedes to get the diesel leak from one of the injectors sorted out − he could have done it himself, but unfortunately we don't have a big enough spanner − everything on the Mog is so huge!

With the leak fixed and some diary entries and photos uploaded on a painfully slow internet connection we headed to the craft market. I gave in and made peanut butter and jam sandwiches for a couple of local barefoot ragged street children, but afterwards I unfortunately forgot to hook the fridge bungi cord back up and as we went around the corner the door flew open and a bottle of savannah (South African cider) smashed all over the floor. So before joining Kate at the curio stalls there was a bit of floor washing to do to stop us smelling like a nasty old pub. Oh for an Engels top-opening fridge.

Kate chose a couple of lovely things and we started the journey out towards Salima and Senga Bay. By this time we had left it a bit late but we decided we could probably make it to the lake anyway. About sixty km outside of Blantyre we reached a crossroads where the road from Mwanza (the Mozambique border crossing leading in to the Tete corridor) joins the main road. At the crossroads there was a checkpoint, and we were duly pulled over. A man with no uniform and no identification tag strolled up to the truck window, asked Tom how much we weighed, fiddled with his mobile phone and announced that we owed him US$ 117 for the 'road toll'. We goggled. I asked him very politely whether he thought we had come down in the last rain cloud. As if we go around handing out hundred dollar bills to anyone who asks for them!

We went into the small shelter at the checkpoint and started the debate. "All foreign registered vehicles must pay a road toll". Again, very politely, we suggested that they perhaps show us something to that effect, produce some identification and proof of the price calculation. The debate was long and occasionally heated but suffice it to say that they did eventually produce the necessary documentation and we did have to pay up, although it turned out to be only $70 in the end.

After another 120km we arrived in Salima, which seemed to be another pleasant Malawian town, complete with fuel stations, cash machines and market. We are definitely really getting to like Malawi. It was getting dark so we didn't stop for long, just enough to buy some bananas and get some more kwacha, then we headed down the road to Senga Bay.

For most of the day the road had been quite empty, with very few vehicles. But all of a sudden, this last section (in the dark), was filled with bicycles − all with no lights of course. It made for slightly treacherous driving so we took it very slowly and used our enormous IPF lights as much as possible.

At Senga Bay we drove all the way through town until we arrived at the upmarket Le Meridien Livingstonia Beach. It didn't seem likely that there would be a campsite attached, but we'd heard it was the best beach in town and sure enough, we asked a few locals and they assured us that Steps campsite was indeed inside, next to the hotel but separate from it.

We drove through the gates and found a real selection of overland vehicles parked in a fantastic campsite − lots of grassy shady spots, power points and more or less everything you need. There was a Dutch Nissan Patrol, a German Land Cruiser with a bright red trailer, a 1960s Datsun from the Africa Oddysey ralley, three South Africans with their enormous fold-out trailers that turn in to fourteen bedroom mansions and another yellow Unimog! Naturally we had to park next to the mog. As it was pitch black by this point, it wasn't until we had unpacked that we realised that the lake was directly in front of us, and we are so looking forward to seeing it properly tomorrow morning.

Tom writes − After our early night, we were happily refreshed for the hour-long climb up the mountain. Once we were past the villages and the mission (and their chickens) Alf was able to run about off the lead as we headed steadily upwards. The walk was quite easy-going as most of it was shaded by large trees but I didn't envy the local villagers who trekked up and down the mountain carrying huge heavy Cedar logs for carving. As we got closer to the falls we could hear the river and by this time we were hot and ready for a dip.

The first thing our guide did was strip to his pants and jump in, and I quickly followed suit (albeit having changed to swimming trunks). Somewhat foolishly considering the temperature of the water. The girls both took a very quick dip accompanied by a lot of shrieking and gasping. The rest of the morning was spent sitting in the shade and soaking up the gorgeous scenery and listening to the water.

Janey writes − After a few hours up on the mountain we dipped our toes in one last time and headed back to the truck. The journey to Blantyre was surprisingly quick − after gigantic Mozambique, it's nice to be in such a manageably-sized country. We stopped at a big supermarket between Limbe and Blantyre (which are more or less one big urban sprawl) to stock up on some essentials, and then headed to Doogles, a well-known backpackers. Unfortunately, despite the fact that there is a dog on their sign, they are named after a dog etc etc − no pets. Ah well. So we headed off to Nyambadwe Lodge instead and ended up camping more or less in their car park, but it was nicer than it sounds, as we were overlooking a garden and we were provided with an evening's entertainment in the form of six men trying to push a large and extremely heavy truck up the drive which was quite a steep hill. Happily they gave up before any injuries were sustained. Had a delicious stir-fry for dinner and another cosy night with three of us in the truck − glad our spare bed is coming in for some use!

Tom writes − After our sleepless night, we crawled out with a plan of finding some local facilities (which we will leave to your imagination) and were greeted by a huge phalanx of bicycles and pedestrians staring straight through our windscreen. They were all waiting for the border to open at 6, and of course we were directly facing the barrier, but nonetheless it was slightly unnerving − it's a while since we have starred on tourist TV first thing in the morning.

We were away from the border by 06:05 and headed to Mulanje, the main town at the base of the mountain to find some breakfast. After filling up with diesel, using the cash machine and rejoicing at being able to converse with people (our Portuguese is still pitiful) we decided to hunt down breakfast.

We had spotted a motel on the way into town and thought that would be our best bet. To be honest I was not expecting to find much more than a cup of Nescafe and a boiled egg, however the restaurant did indeed feature a breakfast menu. So we settled down in the dinning room complete with (very dirty) frilly pink curtains, grey/green walls and confused staff and ordered the 'large breakfast'. This apparently included a sausage. We had doubts.

After six individual visits by the waiter, each time delivering one more piece of the puzzle that is a "pot of tea", our breakfasts arrived: Chips − which were chips, Eggs − fried, Toast, Green Pepper and Onion and a piece of last nights steak, deep fried. It was black and crispy and even Alf had to chew it for a good few minutes before swallowing.

Having said that, the meal did its job, we felt a hundred times better, and decided to head up to the base of the Mountain and camp at Likubala Forest Lodge. The drive led us through acres and acres of Tea plantations leading up towards the mightily impressive mountain range. It was amazing to be somewhere so lush and green after the parched soil of Mozambique. The lodge was in a beautifully shaded spot on the side of the mountain and was immaculate, the floors smelling beautifully of beeswax polish. We fended off the local guides (no, there was no chance we were doing any marching up steep hills in the near future) and settled down to a late morning snooze.

At around lunch time I settled into some mog repairs whilst the girls sorted out laundry. We had heard there were some pools in the river you could swim in, and we were assured it was only a five minute walk away so we headed off with our swimming gear, hoping to cool off. It turned out to be a gorgeously beautiful spot. Although the water was cold it was amazingly refreshing, and a real treat to be swimming in the shadow of the mountain in such clear water. After our dip, we lay on the rocks, snoozing and drying off like a group of Albino Iguanas. Later on, most of the local guides came down to do their washing so we headed back to the camp.

We have arranged with a lovely guy called Moses to take a short hike up to a waterfall tomorrow before we head off to Blantyre.

Janey writes − Moses also asked if we would like to have a look around one of the nearby villages, which we readily agreed to and turned out to be fascinating, provoking all of Kate's and my anthropological interest. It was a small village, but there was a fantastic array of services available. We visited the pot man who fixes up leaky containers and makes new metal cooking pots out of old oil drums. We went to see the carpenters, making both items for local use, as well as gorgeously-scented cedar wood boxes for tourists. There was a tailor, a lady selling sugar cane and a small market with little dried fish, tomatoes, doughnuts, onions, tiny bags of cooking oil, spicy fish fritters, and the usual stall selling plastic tat and cosmetics that might be a little past their best.

The road that passes next to the village is in the process of being upgraded and in order to prepare for tarmac a contractor is building a new bridge on the outskirts of the village − there was a big hole in the ground and a huge digger that had stopped work for the day. This machine was clearly fascinating for the local children, all of whom were clustered around the site, staring and playing. I imagine it must be quite tricky when it's actually in operation to keep them all out of mischief!

In the evening we had a long chat to some South Africans who were on their way home from the UK in an Old Land Cruiser, and who had lots of interesting tales from the east coast journey. By seven o clock it felt like midnight, so we had a very early dinner and all collapsed in to bed, delighting in the blissful quiet.

Mozambique

Kate writes - Can it really get any worse than having to get up stupidly early? Oh yes. try sitting on a boat heading into the wind, getting absolutely soaked by the waves and freezing because the sun is behind the clouds. Not funny at all. And despite moments of distraction (seeing crowds of people thigh deep in water about a mile out from the shore − the locals come out to fish from the sand bars that are shallow enough to wade along at low tide) it was a fairly painful two hours. However, everything was forgotten when we arrived at the deserted and beautiful island of Santa Carolina. White sand, azure sea and not another soul in sight (apart from Lopo and the island keeper who came to collect our tourist tax and then proceeded to do a rather curious march on the shore for a bit before disappearing!).

We spent the day swimming, snorkelling, sun bathing (or rather trying to avoid the harsh sun) and relaxing and were all rather nervous when it came to the boat ride back to the mainland − after this morning's experience we were all fearing the worst, but we made it back without getting wet or cold and to top it off were escorted some of the way by three dolphins swimming alongside us which really was something else.

We were greeted by a very happy Alf who full-body wagged for a good five minutes after we got back and after washing the sand and salt from our hair headed to sample the hotel restaurant which was great and made even better by the two power cuts and litter of kittens that surrounded us while we ate!

Kate writes − We hunted down the solitary internet connection in Vilankulos to do a bit of emailing and upload some diary entries this morning, but after a painful half an hour of being very patient we gave up and headed out of Vilankulos and up the coast to Inhassoro, a tiny town that seems to consist of one street, a supermarket and (of course) a market but which also boasts a complexo turistico which has a slightly unfinished feel to it but along with a hotel, restaurant and chalets does have a spacious campsite, which is metres from the sea and has bright pink paintwork in the [girls] toilets so we decided to stay!

Within minutes of arriving we had been offered prawns, lobster, all manner of unidentifiable fish, calamari and the all important boat trip to the Bazaruto Archipelago which we have decided to do tomorrow. And after a dinner round the camp fire, under the big starry African night sky we all headed to bed early as we have to be ready to leave tomorrow by 8 (Lopo the Mozambican taking us across wanted to leave at 7 − we all just laughed at the idea!)

Kate writes − We left Zombie Cucumbers this morning and moved to the Baobab campsite (its name taken from the enormous baobab that overlooks the camping pitches), after a walk along the beach littered with mother of pearl and very picturesque boats and a scrummy lunch in the baobab restaurant watching in a mixture of amusement and horror at the 'how many people can we fit into a boat' challenge that was taking place in front of us, Janey and I left (a very sensible) Tom to his new Patrick O'Brian and hit the market.

The colours, the smells, the all manner of very useful (and completely useless) things to buy were a welcome distraction from the vast swathes of beautiful and sometimes amusing fabrics on offer. With the help of a very handy 'guide' who appeared shortly after we entered the mecardo municipal we managed to meander through the market stalls and negotiate a decent price for the fabrics we chose.
Feeling very pleased with our purchases and getting pretty close to fabric saturation point Janey and I returned to the Mog and proceeded to show Tom what we had bought. He has had lots of practice in the past year (due to Janey's insatiable African fabric obsession!) and made all the right noises.
To celebrate our highly successful shopping trip and the fact that we have actually managed to have a day on the coast which didn't involve us having to batten down the hatches we got stuck into a bottle of wine and retired to bed feeling very pleased with ourselves. oh this is the life!

Kate writes - Woke up to grey skies and sure enough after a speedy packing up of camp the heavens opened and the rain began to fall.and fall.and fall. We abandoned plans of going to Pomere and kept on the road north to Vilankulos, a small town spread out along the coast made up of sandy roads and homesteads intermingled with the occasional backpackers/camp site.

Thankfully the rain had stopped falling by the time we arrived and we made our way to Zombie Cucumbers, a beautiful, quiet haven of brightly painted chalets and bougainvillea away from the hustle and bustle of it all (if you can say that Vilankulos has hustle and bustle!).

Kate writes - The wind was blowing again today which meant more of sheltering inside from it. So we spent the day between the Mog (pouring over maps planning our route to Malawi) and the lodge's restaurant (eating yummy seafood) and generally trying to avoid getting blown away!

Kate writes − Up early (pesky chickens!). Packed up camp and left the lovely malaria ridden south African surf bums behind. The plan was to go to Plaia des Cocos but after a stop in Tofo to do a bit of emailing we decided to head further north to Barra and check out what it had to offer.I'm glad we did, we have ended up here, camping metres from a big, beautiful deserted beach and Janey and I have finally had our first swim in the Indian Ocean for 3 and 10 years respectively! However the downside to this paradise is the wind, it sure is blowing (Tom almost had his arms wrenched out flying the kite) and means that you are permanently sticky and salty and its virtually impossible to be outside!

Very kindly Tom offered to prepare and barbeque us some fresh prawns we bought this morning in Tofo, this was a offer I think he regretted − cleaning them was not the nicest of jobs and although they were delicious I think the gutting experience was enough to put us all off them!

Kate writes − After a slow and leisurely start this morning we hit the road and headed north towards Imhambane. After stopping en route in a small town to do a it of veg shopping (not much of it around apart from tomatoes!), we arrived in the 'charming' town of Imhambane, and charming is the perfect word to describe it − with its wide tree lined streets and colourful low houses − it reminded me a bit of Mexico. After filling the ever thirsty Mog with diesel and avoiding the ever persistent coconut biscuit sellers we arrived in Tofo.

Finding a good camping spot seems to be a bit of a problem, there are numerous lovely, ideally located lodges, perfect for backpackers but just not really offering the space the mog needs. However despite this and after a little bit of to-ing and fro-ing we are now settled up in the camp site at Turtle Cove Lodge − a place with a lovely feel to it.unfortunately it appears to be mosquito ridden and more importantly there is no sea view or even a relative proximity to the sea and that's no good!

After a well deserved dinner at Casa Barry's of the infamous Mozambican prawns (yummy) and the obligatory squashing of pesky mosquitoes that had made their way somehow into the Mog we all hit the hay.

Kate writes − After being rudely awakened this morning from my peaceful slumber on a bed (I decided to treat myself and my hip bones to a mattress for the night after 5 nights or so on camping mats!) by the very noisy arrival of a large de-mining outfit we had a short stint on the road today of 4 hours from Casa Lisa's to where we are now (roughly 60k north of Xai-Xai) and we are finally within walking distance of the Indian Ocean. Despite our proximity to the sea Tom is the only one who has had a dip, Janey, Alf and I are saving ourselves for the perfect, less windy swimming spot. As if to mark the occasion we had a pod of humpbacked whales swimming off the coast this evening, what a treat!

The drive up here took us inland from the coast, up the EN1, past the mud huts on the sides of the roads, primary schools with hoards of children playing and gathered outside, cashew nut sellers who hang big plastic bags of nuts on branches on the side of the roads and of course the unbelievably overloaded buses which have so much stuff on top of them it almost doubles their height and means they take corners at speed but virtually on two wheels − it's a scary sight when you are stuck behind the bus! The smooth tarmac roads are starting to become more and more run down the further from Maputo we get and there was a particularly bad spot of bone shacking potholes (thankfully not as bad, I am assured, as the potholes experienced elsewhere on the trip!).

We have another day on the road tomorrow north to Tofo in search of the perfect beach!

We had planned on leaving just before nine this morning, but we were all so excited about the prospect of getting to Mozambique that we were all up bright-eyed even before that, and everything was packed up by 8.30am − I think it may be a first for us actually to be ready before we had intended. We said our goodbyes and Tom negotiated Mog out of the rather tight space − a few trees were pruned but no serious damage done either to them or Mog thankfully − Tom really is a demon when it comes to manoeuvring the beast.

I had a slight fit of 'have I got everything?' nerves − suddenly realised that we were leaving south Africa and might not be in a relatively developed country for a long while − but if I haven't needed it yet, then it's probably not urgent after all. The only thing we were a bit tempted to get was some new leisure batteries − ours have a recommended five year lifespan, which is more or less up and they are starting not to hold their charge so well any more. However, in the end we decided to risk the old ones rather than forking out what would be quite a considerable sum for two new ones.

We arrived at the border mid-morning, again a little nervous as we had to try and ensure a smooth transition from the old carnet to the new one, which could have been tricky − especially as they hadn't stamped us in to South Africa, but we need the exit stamp in order to make sure we get our deposit back. In the end it was a remarkably smooth border crossing − the carnet all went fine, customs and immigration were very quick on both sides, we just had to pick up our Mozambique local third party insurance and then we were on our way. In total, we were probably only there an hour. We still haven't quite got used to these smooth southern African border crossings and I fully expect it to take four hours to get through! Similarly, I had brought rand to change at the border, but the normal throng of black-market money traders didn't appear − and instead I found a Mozambican cash machine!

As we went through the gate and into Mozambique we could smell street food on the grill and we all suddenly had a feeling of being back in Africa − there were smiles all round. We continued down the toll highway (which you can pay in rand, conveniently) through typical African scrub land under a beautiful blue sky and by 2pm we were in Maputo.

We drove into the city down a wide boulevard with no obvious signs of the lengthy war that Mozambique finally left behind fifteen years ago. It did feel totally different to south Africa though − and we were surprised to feel a certain similarity with some of the major towns in Angola − the Portuguese influence has clearly lingered. It is far far nicer than Luanda though! There's a wonderful variety of street names too − including Mao se Tung and Lenin as well as the normal selection of African leaders.

We headed to the main strip, near the ocean, and found somewhere to stop for a celebratory lunch. We then had an interesting time trying to figure out what was coming out of the cash machine − we knew it was roughly fifty thousand Meticals to the pound, but the maximum sum on offer was three thousand. Hmmmm. A trip in to the bank helped clear things up − the currency is in the process of being changed, so there is old family money (fifty thousand to the pound) or new family money (fifty to the pound). Both types are currently valid, which I can see might be a tad confusing. However, at the moment we have been able to pay for everything in rand − lunch, diesel and camping.

Over lunch we decided that we would head out of Maputo and try and find somewhere up the coast to stay on the beach. The lonely planet was suitably vague about the nearest beach (mentioning a ferry in passing but no details about whether there was a land alternative or whether the ferry would take vehicles etc etc).

Our first problem was trying to find a way out of Maputo and on to the coast road. Our first attempt (guided by the Lonely Planet southern Africa road atlas) was to head for the beach and follow it round. This had its advantages as we got our first real view of the Indian ocean, but unfortunately it turned out not to lead anywhere. The tarmac ran out quite soon and some tro-tro drivers explained to us that the road ahead was impassable and you'd have to be crazy to try it.

Our next tactic was to head through town again and along the road that the Lonely Planet southern Africa labelled as heading to Marracuene and points North. Again this had its advantages as we got to see some more of Maputo − we drove through big bustling markets and a couple of transport junctions but again the road disappeared into a narrow rutted alley and we had to turn around.

In the end we decided to head back to the main highway that we had come in on and head up the coast that way. This worked! Unfortunately by the time we got to Marracuene, it was getting towards five o clock and we needed to find somewhere to stay quite soon before daylight ran out on us. Predictably all the places to stay turned out to be on the other side of the river, connected by a ferry. Thanks to pretty limited Portuguese we had trouble ascertaining whether the ferry would run again today or if it could carry a seven ton truck (looking at the little flat barge pulled up on the sand on the other bank that may or may not have been the ferry, we weren't convinced!). So we decided to head another 18km north to Casa Lisa.

Casa Lisa is very convenient − near the road and with a huge camping area and decent facilities, but it's not exactly the golden sand and azure sea we had pictured. More Isle of Wight than Ilha de Mozambique. Never mind, we'll head further north tomorrow and hope to find it there.

South Africa

Tom writes − We strolled into town and deposited our passports at the Mozambican High Commission to get our visas and also picked up our Carnet (freshly DHL'd courtesy of Paul Gowen at the RAC). The visas are a snip at 85 Rand (about seven pounds) and should be ready for this afternoon. Janey and Kate have done a stock-up shop and now we are ready for Mozambique and the Indian Ocean. Huzzay Huzzay (Sorry have been reading a lot of Patrick O'Brian!)

Tom writes − After a lazy morning and an early lunch we drove the seventy kilometres to Nelspruit. We arrived in a fairly large sprawling city surrounded by shopping malls and car show rooms. After some gentle manoeuvring we got ourselves installed in the Nulspruit Backpackers and had an early night.

Fortunately it was lovely and warm and sunny this morning, allowing us all to defrost a bit after a cold foggy night. There were plenty of birds to keep me happy too − particularly the malachite sunbird in the trees right next to us. We also spotted a large antelope on the hills on the other side of the lake, but it was too far away to identify − think it could have been a Blesbok.

We packed up late and headed off towards Kruger. We crossed over the mountains at Long Tom pass (named after a type of canon used during the Anglo-Boer war). There were spectacular views from the pass, which tops 2100 metres, so we stopped to have a picnic lunch and admire the mountains. We drove through kilometres and kilometres of pine forest plantations and through the small town of Saabie and on to Hazyview.

Hazyview is just ten kilometres from Kruger and so is predictably geared towards tourists. There were plenty of accommodation options and we wandered around a few before settling on Gecko Bushpackers, which has a nice shady place to camp, plus a friendly bar and helpful owners. Have booked a day trip in to Kruger tomorrow for Kate and Tom. In the evening we had a fire at last − so lovely to sit around it, it's definitely been too long since we had one − the perfect accompaniment to an Al fresco dinner.

We said our goodbyes to Yogi and Cristal who have promised to keep in touch − we can highly recommend Moonlight Lodge to anyone visiting the area. We drove through Pretoria once again and out onto the N4 eastwards towards Kruger and Mozambique. The first couple of hours were relatively uneventful, until we got to the section of the road passing Witxxx, where there were numerous road signs warning us to be "Alert: Carjacking Hotspot". Makes for a relaxing drive. Happily nothing untoward occurred and we continued on to Belfast where we came off the motorway and headed up in to the hills.

By mid-afternoon we had arrived in Dullstroom which is clearly heaven if you are a trout fisherman. (If you aren't.) It is a very upmarket sort of a place with endless fishing related shops, restaurants, bars etc. Even the local Spar supermarket has a picture of a trout on its billboard. We found the local caravan park, on the edge of a trout fishing lake naturally and decided − after a bit of wrangling − on a spot to park in. You've got to get the Feng Shui right you know.

It was mighty windy and cold − presumably partly as a result of the relatively high altitude, so we decided to have dinner inside rather than be too British and suffer the cold for no good reason. We were a bit worried that Kate would freeze to death in her tent, but happily she's made it through the night!

Tom went off this morning to sort out one of the last chores on our list to do in South Africa − get our new rim fitted. Needless to say this wasn't exactly straightforward as the new rim is slightly deeper than the old one. As a result, it didn't fit on our second spare wheel mount bracket − which is a bit of a pain to get a tyre on and off at the best of times. Happily a few hours and a bit of African ingenuity and a ratchet strap and a solution was found. Now we just have to hope it holds when we get the first real off road test.

As this all took a bit longer than expected, Tom haired back in to the lodge Paris-Dakar style at 1.15 and by 1.20 we were in Cristal's car heading to the De Wildt Cheetah centre where they also breed other endangered African animals and birds.

We started off with an introductory talk about the work and aims and history of the centre before clambering into a couple of fantastically battered old trucks with game viewing seats in the back. The Nissan I was in has apparently been on the farm for forty years.

We started by visiting the cheetahs for feeding time. It is always a privilege to see big cats up close and we were fascinated. They also have some rare 'King Cheetahs', which have a different kind of coat pattern − which none of us had ever seen or heard of before. The cats made an unlikely miaouwing when they saw that their food was coming, much softer and gentler than you would imagine. We also learned that cheetahs have no sense of smell − a by-product of their speed. When they are running flat out they can't actually breathe due to the wind resistance, so as soon as they stop they need to get a huge influx of air through their nose − this means they have very specific nasal passages, perfect for this purpose but which negates their ability to smell. (I hope I've got that right!)

After the cheetahs we moved on to have a look at some of the birds − including the extremely endangered Egyptian vulture, a fantastic looking fellow with a bright yellow beak and spiky white hair-do. Sadly almost impossible to see in the wild anywhere now. The centre also breeds endangered blue cranes with their wonderful train-like tail feathers.

Next came the real highlight of the day − the African wild dogs. These animals have had an interesting position within African conservation. They were traditionally seen as brutal ruthless hunters and in recent decades they were shot not only by farmers but even by rangers in Kruger in the name of conserving other animals. As a result of this, they are now almost the most endangered predator in Africa − hence the de Wildt breeding program. The centre calls them Painted Wolves and is hoping to get the name widely adopted in an attempt to help people move on from the negative stereotypes associated with the name African Wild Dog.

These creatures really are amazing − the groups are led by a single alpha female who calls all the shots, including organising the pack hunt, a technique which works incredibly well − they have a 97% success rate. The first group we saw were in a fenced off area and snoozed far up in the corner of their camp as we drove past. They seemed quite docile and, with their narrow frames and enormous ears, anything but menacing. That impression changed completely when we drove into a camp with the next pack − an all male group. The dogs charged around the trucks in circles, huge jaws open and salivating. They make the most incredibly intimidating high-pitched noise and all of a sudden I could see how they got their reputation. When they got their food they ate it in a frenzy − utterly focused until it was all gone, which took a matter of minutes. They can hunt and kill and eat an impala in two minutes.

It was a fascinating afternoon, definitely a worthwhile visit.

After a leisurely breakfast in the warm sunshine we packed up the Mog and headed into Pretoria. We managed not to get lost, courtesy of Cristal's map, and headed right in to the town centre so I could pick up another nine months' supply of contact lenses from Specsavers.

Whilst Kate and I were in the bank and getting the lenses, Tom was waiting in the Mog in the space we had managed to find right in the middle of town. After ten minutes or so, two traffic warden ladies of traditional build appeared. They considered the truck for a moment, and soon realised there was not a cat's chance they could reach the windscreen. That, combined with Tom's winning smile of course, seems to have got us off a ticket!

Pretoria seems quite an agreeable place − we're always fans of cities laid out in grids for starters as it just makes our lives so much easier. It's busy in the city centre, but not so much so that it makes it totally impossible to manage. It couldn't be more different from Cape Town, and feels much more like the kind of African city we are used to, in comparison to the very European feel of Cape Town.

We headed out to one of the suburbs − Hatfield, where we had heard there was a large second-hand bookshop. We stopped for lunch in a pizza restaurant where every day is 'buy one get one free' day − plenty left over for take out. We picked up a few supplies − new rechargeable batteries as we've lost two and the others are beginning to look seriously battered after so many months of rattling around in the solar chargers on our dash board.

I duly found the bookshop after lunch, (The Protea Bookstore), and it was fortunate that I only had six hundred rand in my wallet otherwise I probably would have blown a month's budget in there. As it was I picked up a decent selection of old and new books, and happily visits from friends are keeping us wonderfully stocked up − for which we are extremely grateful.

In the evening, Cristal and Yogi asked us if we would like to head out to their local restaurant for the evening − the Upper Deck. It turned out to be a really fun evening and a great insight into the local community - friendly people, enormous plates of meat, plentiful drink, terrible music! Everyone we were introduced to thought the trip was a fantastic idea and we had plenty of requests for a spare seat. All the people we met were interested in our tales of west and central Africa, and often knew of the places we mentioned − South Africa is probably the only country where a substantial proportion of the people you meet have spent time in Angola or Congo − as a result of military service in the 80s and 90s.

The restaurant was very busy, as they do a special Wednesday evening deal where you can get an enormous T-bone steak, a huge plate of rice and pumpkin and spinach for twenty-eight rand − just over two pounds. We sat outdoors and there was a big fire in the middle of the seating area, and pounding 80s music coming out of the speakers, Cher and Bon Jovi aplenty! After a few Jaegermeisters I was happily singing along.

The Big Yellow Mog contingent has expanded. Along with Janey, Tom and Alfie there is now Kate − yipppeee!

Cristal drove me to the airport to collect her − we were very nearly late thanks to a power cut making it a bit tricky to find fuel, but fortunately her plane was slightly delayed so we found each other in arrivals for a predictably teary girly greeting.

It's about an hour's drive back from the airport so we got back mid-morning and spent the rest of the day soaking up the sunshine, the sky and each other's company. We took Alfie for a bimble down the dirt road and then ended the day with a nice bottle of South African red and a curry under the stars.

We did what is hopefully the last bit of paperwork for our new carnet − we faxed back the completed forms and sent some new passport photos by DHL to the UK for Tom's new international driving permit (they are only valid for a year). We stocked up on credit for the phone and food for the week and then I ran around in overexcited circles getting ready for Kate's arrival tomorrow!

Lovely warm sunny day. We did our laundry in a washing machine J and a few other chores like looking up the engine number. Tom did a quick Mog check and then we sat in the sun and read our books. We were just wondering what to do for dinner, given that we didn't have any fresh food, when Cristal appeared and asked us if we'd like to share some of their dinner of impala stew and mealie pap. Absolutely perfect − a meal cooked for us at the end of a lazy day.

Hurrah, we've made it to Moonlight Lodge outside Pretoria, and are delighted at the prospect of never ever driving up the N1 in a Unimog again. (Well, this is Africa so never say never, but here's hoping.) We decided to take a long circuitous route to avoid Johannesburg as we had no desire to drive through the city. We've been to Lagos and Kinshasa but there's still something about Jo'burg that makes you feel like you'd rather avoid it.

By lunch time we were both very tired, Tom very stiff and Alf very bored!
So it was quite a relief when we came off the N1 and headed west along the R28 through rolling farmland. We made a big circle up through Randburg and Krugersdorp towards Hartbespoort Dam and Moonlight Lodge. We got a little lost at one point but nothing too drastic and a speedy U-turn on Tom's part fixed it.

The towns we passed through seemed OK − nothing that made you want to stop but nothing that made you want to really keep going either! The only oddity was outside Krugersdorp where there were hills which appeared to be made up of some kind of white sandy substance − some industrial byproduct we feared, although they did have trees and grasses growing on them. Will try and find out what it is.

Further on we arrived in the Hartbespoort Dam area, which is very well-to-do and full of lodges and houses for those escaping the big cities at weekends. We climbed over a few hills covered with golden grasses and stopped to ask for directions at a crossroads where there was a supermarket as well as a fuel station and a few other shops. (Also managed to buy eight avocadoes for 20 rand − about £1.50 − from a lady on the side of the road, what a bargain). When I am asking for directions I always try and ask two people to be on the safe side. The first person I asked was one of the fuel station attendants, who told me to keep straight and turn right at the T-junction. The next person I asked agreed. The only notable thing was that the first person I asked was black and the second white. It only occurred to me as I got back in the truck that maybe the first guy thought I didn't trust him and wanted a white second opinion. Of course this is pure conjecture on my part but the fact that it occurred to me at all shows how much of a big issue it still is with race in this country. As an ex-Londoner it's odd to be so conscious of it. Of course, we're not so naïve not to see how many problems there are back home in the UK with relations between communities, even though we are far away, but I hope there are enough people who value our multi-cultural society to ensure that the situation doesn't deteriorate any further.

Anyhow, it was great to finally arrive at Moonlight Lodge, which was just what we needed. On arrival we were greeted by nine dogs − a large Alsatian, an Alsatian-Rottweiler cross, a township classic (who could definitely have been Alfie's long-lost sister), four five-month old collie-Alsatian cross-breeds, and two little Bulbul puppies who are all skin and feet. It was all a bit hairy (boom boom) when they met Alfie, but they seemed to have sorted out the doggie politics between themselves and accepted him into the pack.

Moonlight has everything you need − clean bathrooms, internet access, great owners (Yogi and Cristal) and we were chuffed that Pierre had recommended it. Most of all, there is a big open field where we can park and make camp and not drive anywhere for a couple of days.

Yup, you guessed it, today we spent another long day on the N1, and we're still not there yet! At least the day started well − I had another bath, on the premise that it might be another year before I find the next one!

Around eleven o clock we stopped at a service station − an ultra city I think, but it could have been a One Stop or one of the others. They all sell the same utter junk food and have the same kind of burger bars in. You cannot find a sandwich or anything green for love nor money, it's all greasy chips, pies or crisps and chocolate. So grateful to have some salad in the fridge! I was trundling across the car park back to the Mog when an older man drinking coffee out of a thermos started chatting to me. It turned out that he was driving up to Jo'burg to see his son-in-law − who had been shot five times during a car-jacking. The poor man was totally terrified about driving on his own. He was terribly pessimistic about the future of South Africa. We were torn. On the one hand it is easy to sympathise with people like this, and understand why they are afraid and depressed about the levels of crime. On the other hand, we are getting a bit tired of wealthy (in comparison to the vast majority) South Africans telling us how dreadful the ANC-led government is and how they are only out to line their own pockets etc etc − after all, it's not exactly as if their predecessors were renowned across the world for justice and equality of distribution.

Now that we are well past the half way point there are not nearly so many B&Bs or caravan sites so we have ended up in a slightly odd guest house which was the only one we could find in town − I don't think Ventersburg is going to be on the tour bus list soon either. However, the lady owner is very nice and happy for us to park on her lawn.

Bought a few supplies at one of those supermarkets where you are hard pressed to find anything that you could even remotely consider wanting to eat. In the end we were both too tired to bother to cook and had cups of tea and bowls of cereal for dinner before collapsing into bed.

There are days when Mog really comes into her own as the ultimate vehicle − towing embedded diesel smuggling lorries out of enormous muddy holes in the Congo springs to mind, or on freezing cold evenings when it's so important to have the space to sit inside. Trundling up the N1 on the other hand, doesn't exactly appeal to her strengths. It's the best part of a thousand miles from Cape Town to Pretoria, on a long straight but slightly hilly main road through the great empty plains of the Karoo. At forty miles an hour, we are beginning to realise just how long it's going to take us! Especially after three weeks without driving Mog, poor Tom is stiff as a board tonight, and I fear it's only going to get worse. He may be forced to do some yoga!

Interestingly, although the N1 is the main inter-state highway, (the equivalent of the M1 I suppose), it doesn't bypass the towns en route − it changes from being a Motorway to an ordinary main road − with traffic lights! − and goes straight through them. Presumably the towns rely pretty heavily on the passing traffic but you have to imagine that the residents of towns like Beaufort West must get quite sick of the sheer number of enormous lorries thundering through, not to mention the potential for accidents when drivers are suddenly confronted with a pedestrian crossing after a couple of hundred miles of empty motorway.

We started keeping an eye out for somewhere to stay around five o clock, but it wasn't until we arrived in Hanover at nearly six that we pulled off the road and into the first B&B we saw. They were happy to make an arrangement for us. We parked directly outside one of their rooms in a gated courtyard and I made long and happy use of the hot bath in the en-suite bathroom − the first in a very long time. It almost made up for the fact that we were still too close to the road and I could hear the lorries thundering past all night.

The time has come to say goodbye to Cape Town and start our long journey home. We can't quite believe that we are about to embark on driving the length of Africa.again! It certainly feels like we are better prepared this time − we have got the hang of camping at least − it still makes me laugh to think that we left England without a camping table!

We have had a great time in Cape Town and I can easily understand why people choose to make their home in this city − in some ways it reminds us of Brighton, the seaside atmosphere and the reputation for tolerance. However, it's good to be moving again now that we are happily restocked and restored and very much rested and relaxed after a few weeks at Chill 'n Surf.

We made an unhurried departure this morning after wishing farewell to Pierre and the various members of the Chill n Surf menagerie − including numerous chickens, Balu the dog, Robin the grumpy goose (Tom is still nursing a hole in his chin) and Hamlet the unfeasibly sociable pot-bellied pig.

Having headed out of Kommetjie and over the mountain into the city for the last time, we made our way to the N1 for the long trip up to Pretoria, so we can collect Kate from the airport in a few days time − very excititing!

The first stage of the N1 was predictably uninspiring. Many kilometres of township sprawled next to the motorway, reminding us again that the Cape Town of the waterfront shopping extravaganza, fantastic restaurants and glamorous houses is only one half of a very divided story.

We went through the long, and beautifully maintained, xxxx tunnel, having decided it was worth paying the toll in order to avoid the pass over the hills which we probably would have taken from a scenic point of view if it wouldn't have added so many hours to our journey − Mog not being the speediest on long climbs. The scenery was vast and open with mountains over to our right − some even with snow on the peaks! The first time we've seen snow in Africa for sure. Although the road itself is pretty dull, at least there were some impressive views.

We made better progress than we had hoped, arriving at sunset in the small town of Laingsburg. Our guide book mentioned a "cosy caravan park", which we duly found. It was surrounded by a tragic amount of broken glass and wouldn't make it on to anyone's 'must see' list. On the other hand, it was too cold to be outside anyway and we knew we were leaving first thing so it didn't really matter where we were − we cooked up some hot soup indoors and reflected on how different everything seems now from our first night in Africa on the journey down − all the way back in Chefchouen, with all the tensions of just starting out, and the exhaustion after the stressful border crossing. We are so used to life in the Mog now, and certainly more relaxed.

Coming soon!

Coming soon.

Coming soon!

Coming soon!

Coming soon!