The Vuvuzela Diaries

Our ‘return to civilisation’ celebrations were slightly spoilt by an unpleasant exit from Angola. The car was clearly not as impressed with 2 tanks of the cheap ($0.3/l) Angolan diesel as our budget was and shook like a rattle snake every time we tried (unsuccessfully) to accelerate past 60km/h.

To add to our grief the Angolan customs chap refused to sign out our carnet on the basis that ‘Angola is not part of this treaty!’. When I pointed out to him that it had already been signed three times by Angolan officials (twice in Cabinda and once on entry to Angola proper) he helpfully suggested we head back up to Luvo, our point of entry 5 days drive away and ask them to sign it for me. Hopefully the AA will be understanding.

Namibian border formalities were pain free although it took a while for the border guards to understand why as South Africans entering from Angola we didn’t have Namibian exit stamps in our passports.

Night one was spent at Ondangwa Rest Camp where we enjoyed rump steaks and Tafel lagers before being lulled to sleep by the locals playing “Delarey” till 2 in the morning. Welkom tuis.

Due to time constraints we spent only a night in Etosha at Okaukuejo. Its a phenomenal game reserve.. lots of game, excellent infrastructure and great service. The camps were also completely chocka with Saffers with new Prados and double story tents on top of their trailers enjoying the extended school holidays and we started to miss the delapidated, shot out, disorganised and deserted West African parks.

On day 3 the Engen diesel began to kick in and we hit 100km for the first time in a while so our scheduled stop at Toyota was cancelled and we headed into the Waterberg instead. We camped at one of the three secluded sites at ‘Anderson camping’, definitely the nicest camp site of the trip, ably assisted by some good South African wine and Namibian steak on the braai. Throughout Namibia we were impressed with the quality of the accommodation at all levels which I suspect surpasses even the high South African standards.

After a night with very hospitable friends in Windhoek we collected my brother and niece at the airport and headed west to the Skeleton coast. Xaragu made a fantastic relaxed 2 night stopover with petrified forests, ancient rock engravings and lots more to keep us entertained. From there we moved into the heart of the Skeleton coast and stayed at Terrace Bay. The scenery was epic and the dunes as impressive as anything we had seen in Morocco.

On the way back to Windhoek we enjoyed Cape Cross (home to 200 000 seals), Swakopmund and a fantastic farmhouse at Etusus Lodge.

In Windhoek we were reunited with Chippy who had taken the easy route down from Morocco.

We spent our last night of the trip on the banks of the Orange river with South Africa squarely in sight.

16 April – “Welcome to Nigeria!”, the sign came a little sooner than expected as we hadn’t yet checked out of Benin. After a quick trip back into Benin to locate the unmarked customs office to collect the requisite stamps and relatively uneventful customs procedures in Nigeria (painful nonetheless, these chaps are some way off installing a Heathrow style ‘Iris’ machine!) we were back on track.

We covered the next 100km to the first major Nigerian town, Abeokuta, in 3 hours due to 12 police, army and customs checkpoints en route (‘please park very well next to the road and come with me’ said the large Nigerian wielding a Kalshnikov, fortunately just another police checkpoint!).

Arriving late in Abeokuta we treated ourselves to the ’presidential suite’ at the Mokland hotel. As you might imagine the chocolates on the pillows and a few other niceties such as running water were absent, but the price was right after we had split it between the 7 of us that crammed into it so no complaints.

17 April- We had hoped to make the 600km to Abuja despite the potholed roads but hadn’t counted on 80% of the rest of the traffic comprising slow moving petrol trucks, so we settled for half that distance to Jebba.

18 to 20 April- One of the advantages of travelling through post-colonial Africa has been that we have often been able to make use of great (if somewhat past their prime ) clubs, hotels and resorts, often at no cost and almost always with no one else to compete with for service from the bar. The staff at these places are mostly just happy to see a few customers, even if they turn down the rooms in favour of putting up tents in the hotel courtyard.
Abuja is not a city that fits into that mould. Having been built as the country’s new capital using oil revenues it is neither post-colonial, and its hotels struggle to attract guests. Despite this, and we are still not sure why, the Abuja Sheraton allows overlanders to camp within its grounds. No complaints.
Its a modern city with good infrastructure that contrasts starkly with the decrepit state of its neighbouring African capitals, as does its citizens obvious wealth with the poverty of the majority of Nigerians.

21 April and 22 April – Two day trek to Calabar to check out the town which is well known as being one of the nicest in Nigeria, as well as to get our Cameroonian visas. Tracks 4 Africa took us to Le Chateau, where the owner was so excited to be the only hotel in town on the GPS that she put us up for the night and also very kindly took us on a tour of the town the following day.

23 April – Obtained Cameroonian visas in Calabar and headed back up to Ikom, a small town near the Cameroonian border. We had dinner with two bikers also heading to SA, which is the final destination of almost all overlanders we meet these days.

Greetings from Abuja, Nigeria.

Blogs are by their nature retrospective. For a change we thought we’d offer you a glimpse of what lies ahead..

In a few days we head into Cameroon and onto ‘the worst road in Africa’. Check out the video clip ‘Cameroon impassable’ to get an idea of what we’re in for..

‘Its a problem’, the police officer was referring to Mikaela leaving her indicator flashing after she had pulled over and stopped, at his request, for a routine passport check. ‘Its no problem’, her succinct reply. ‘Its a problem’ (policeman repeats); ‘No, its no problem’ (Mik).. ‘Okay, its no problem, bon voyage.’ If only all traffic infringements could be dealt with this way!

Like everything else in Senegal this chap was essentially friendly and positive but let himself down (with this poor attempt at securing a bribe).

We spent our first two nights in St Louis at a fantastic campsite on a thin peninsula in between the Senegal River mouth and the Atlantic. The long white sandy beach was ideal for the kicking off some Knysna half marathon training, although it was sad that if we’d run barefoot our feet would have been shredded by all the litter and broken glass. Similarly we enjoyed walking along the lagoon, watching locals fish and work in cultivated vegetable patches, but the shoreline was strewn with plastic, glass and a dead goat! Even a school of fish in the lagoon beached themselves (and rebeached themselves when we threw them back), opting for mass suicide ahead of living on amidst the mess.

St Louis is one of Senegals premier tourist towns and the peninsula we stayed on is the towns main tourist attraction. The peninsula is only about 5km long and 500m wide.  If there is a 2.5km² area anywhere in the country that warrants the cost of a litter cleaning crew, this is it. But that need is overlooked in favour of ensuring that the driver of any car without a severely cracked windscreen is carrying the correct documentation, a triangle and fire extinguisher!

Despite the annoyance of seeing the wasted potential we enjoyed our stay in St Louis. We visited the nearby nature reserves and eco-resorts, liked the locals and their dirty kids who seemed happier than most despite the fact that their playground was the dusty streets of a fish market and had a delicious steak at La Residence.

From St Louis we drove south to Dakar. The countryside looks increasingly like the South African lowveld. My attempt to donate a football to a group of lads in a youth club alongside a dusty football pitch in a small town ended ambiguously when one of the chaps grabbed the ball from his mates and sprinted off. I like to think they later hunted him down, gave him a sound beating and then enjoyed a game of footie.

Dakar is a city that grows on you.

The only camping option seemed to be the Oceana centre which was not a campsite but a dive centre that ‘Tale of Two Travellers’ had used and been allowed to stay at. It looked like any other slightly rundown clubhouse, but its location in a wealthy central area below the presidents house, on the sea was fantastic. It was populated by a variety of characters, the local fishermen being the only group with any clear sense of purpose.

Our 3 days in Dakar were spent doing some admin, some paddling in the bay, a tourist outing to a nearby former-slaving island and world war 2 military base, but mostly enjoying the local beer, ‘Flag’, and coastal restaurants.

That was all about a week ago. We are now (8 March) back in Senegal after a 4 day excursion to The Gambia. I am writing this from a boma overlooking the magnificent, pristine Gambia River. Unfortunately productivity amongst us scribes is now a lot closer to that of the hippo that is 500m away from me than it is to all you hardworking city folk so you may have to wait a few days for details.

Now, where’s that beer?

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