iep_kruger
Race Dog
- Joined
- Mar 28, 2007
- Messages
- 2,566
- Reaction score
- 1
- Location
- PRETORIA/HARTEBEESPOORT
- Bike
- Honda XRV 750 Africa Twin
muckin afazing !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
African Enduro
- Thread starter mrg46
- Start date
mrg46
Pack Dog
AFRICAN ENDURO - Mozambique
Where was I? Oh Ja, on this magnificent water vessel on the great Rio Rovuma. I had been good china's with the Nile for many thousands of km's on my trip but this river was on a different scale entirely. My excitement for making this crossing far out-weighed any notions of misfortune - something my Mother describes as the benefit of youthful folly. Ignorance is bliss. The crew were all very proud to be holding the KTM upright so I could turn my attention to making sure the guy bailing water did not get lazy. I also took this opportunity to remove the large ZA sticker from the front of the bike. Some friend in the slowveld had told that the Mozambican were hurling stones at ZA vehicles after the recent xenophobia that was going on. My jovial spirits were put on hold for a moment when our craft got stuck on a sandbank and a couple of the crew had to disembark to dislodge the boat. Although the river was approx. 2km wide here at the mouth most of it was very shallow (low tide) and our zig-zagging between little islands resulted in the crossing taking about half an hour. We arrived at the far side to an unwelcoming looking steep bank. The captain kept the motor on to push the boat against the bank and the rest of us plus some additional Mozambicans dragged the bike up the very steep 10 foot bank. There was much sweating after this exertion so I flashed a few more dollar notes in appreciation. I had made it!
I placed my ZA sticker on the boat, much to the crews' amusement. This oke was the sand bank scout. He did a kak job.
Up the bank on the other side. Don't be fooled by the bank in the far horizon - it was only one of many islands in the river.
There was nothing on this side of the river. No signs of life or road. The few Mozambicans that we had encountered on this side pointed me in the direction I should take through the bush - obviously there was a road somewhere in the distance. After a short while crashing through the riverbed I found a rudimentary track and followed it for about 10km's to the closest village. In this village it was easy to spot the only permanent looking structure and I was welcomed by the immigration official who booked me into the country. His English was good and assured me that there would be no xenophobic backlashes on team oranje. I asked why the road leading out of the village had a large collection of branches blocking it off. He said it was only used by a vehicle once a week when he was relieved, and the obstruction was to keep the elephants out. This place was DOOS wild!
Initially the road was rough but not sandy.
And then the sukkeling began...
I hit this track and it quickly became the most difficult riding of my entire trip. The sand was so deep that my panniers would knock on either side of the ruts now & then and usually send me to the deck. I was barely creeping along with the KTM at full taps in first gear. To quote WC fields; the road was fraught with imminent peril. Something had to give. To my surprise that something was the bike and not rider. The sand had just got a little shallower when I heard & felt much liquid erupt from the engine. In a split second I had thought it was oil and the trip was over. Thankfully it was not. The radiator pipe leading to the engine had popped off and all coolant liquid was liberated from the engine & radiator. This was not a fatal blow but nonetheless I was in a bit of a pickle. I only had about a litre of drinking water with me and quickly decided it should be kept for my good self in the interest of self-preservation. I found the nearest tree to sit under (one that could be scaled in the event of an encounter with an elephant) and began to ponder my predicament and wait a few years for a passer-by. Africa being Africa it was only a few minutes before a local emerged out of the thick bush and walked up the road towards me. He had a little boy with him, who hastily disappeared into the bush to hide when he saw me. I explained in sign language what had happened and asked him for some 'agwa'. He understood and disappeared back into the bush, returning half an hour later with a bucket of the finest Mozambican river water. I filled-up and gave him a $donation for his efforts. His very shy son had been slowly & carefully creeping forward towards us throughout all of this. He was very shy and nervous. I inquired why and his father rubber the skin on my arm - a gesture that I took for this little fella probably not having seen many or any wit ou's before. Eventually he came & stood for a photo but when the strange and noisy orange horse started he ran back into the bush. His father & I both laughed - probably his first sighting of a motorcycle.
Some of the hardcore sand.
The KTM parked-up with a severe radiator coolant shortage.
My local river water supplier & saviour with his shy son.
I carried on riding on this very difficult road and eventually made it to the next village or Palma. My first 40km's in Mozambique had taken me three hours of riding and one hour under a tree. I cannot stress how WILD this place was. I was fortunate to grow up a stones-throw from the Kruger Park and spent most of my childhood in the bush, but this was absolutely untouched. Although I rode over many Elephant dung mines I didn't get to see any live specimens. I stopped to buy some water in the town of Palma and an English speaking guy told me of a resident lion that was picking off the villagers every now & then. I didn't stick around as bait and made for the biggest town in the North called Mocimboa Da Praia where I camped for the night.
Finally the sand was replaced by some hard stuff.
Some old Martini-Henry rifles excavated by a local.
Mozambique's finest unleaded.
Ethiopia's finest coffee beans still cranking out the espresso's each morning.
After this town the roads generally got better with some patches of tarmac starting to appear. There was however no fuel so after exhausting all the bush fuel I had bought in Tanzania I had to resort to a few litres of Mozambique's finest high octane palm wine. I made it to the coastal oasis of Pemba where there was plenty fuel, food, drink & company. Pemba is an incredible place and not as spoilt as places to the South. It has some of the best looking beaches on the planet, an endless supply of fresh seafood and is also a diving mecca for those who prefer to look at the marine life rather than eat it. In Pemba I stayed at a fantastic camp site with a huge bar that was the hub of the small SA community there. During the last few days of tough sand tracks I had noticed a slightly different knocking noise coming from the LC4 so took a day to do an 'inspection' service. I thought that the valve clearances were slightly loose so tightened them up. Another thing I had noticed was that the KTM guys in Nairobi had not put in the correctly sized spark plug - it was a larger sized one that left no room in the recess for a plug socket. I was eventually able to get it out with a pair of long-nose pliers, probably what they had used to put it in. In went one of the decent spares plugs I was carrying. I was to find out much later that the valves were actually fine and I had made them a little too tight. The noise I was hearing was a combination of LC4 paranoia (totally unjustified) and the usual audio changes of an engine getting looser. A very good family friend in South Africa has a huge hunting concession in the Rovuma area and I met up with his local partner for a tour of Pemba and it's watering holes. He told me that he had been asked to get rid of the man-eating Lion I had heard about in Palma and was just waiting for a delivery of bullets before going to take it out. Some people get the short straw.
There are very many pedestrian fatalities in Mozambique, but you could not pay me enough money to walk in this grass.
Bicycle charcoal transportation.
Bicycle bicycle transportation.
After Pemba I took the main roads inland leading Southwards. I had little choice but to use the tarmac network as they usually led past fuel pumps (funny that). The country of Mozambique is incredibly long, especially in the North, and I ended up doing much more mileage in Mozambique than in any other country on the continent (almost 3000km's). I spent the next few days getting some big mileage under the belt (about 500-700km's a day) and although the engine was perfect my chain woes returned. The chain was making a big noise and was now stretching rapidly and taking the sprockets with it. One day in particular I stopped to adjust it four times at the side of the road. During all of this it had also worn through the plastic chain slider and then started having a go at bisecting the swing-arm. I was mega-paranoid about this and couldn't stand the thought of failure being this close to completing the trip. At one point I fabricated a new slider - sout piel maak 'n plan - using a piece of truck tyre and some cable-ties. This gave me one day of riding without swing-arm deterioration and the following day I replaced it with an even better version - I flattened a couple of large 2M beer cans and moulded them over the swing-arm. This proved to be just as good as the chain slid over them without cutting through for two more days. Although I was still on tar there were some silly sections of around 50km's that had more sandy potholes in the road than tarred-covered bits.
Typical scenery in the central interior.
They're building a fancy bridge across the Zambezi river, but things are going slowly with many construction workers getting chowed by crocs.
McGuyvers first take at a chain slider.
The swingarm deterioration.
Armed KTM security while I went to lay a coil.
There are several massive rivers which flow through central Mozambique in the summer.
By now I was past the fairly boring central interior of the country and approaching the touristy coastal South that I was familiar with. There GP 4x4's were now coming thick & fast on the roads and before I knew it all you saw were bakkies loaded with Quad's towing JetSki's. It's a pity some of Portuguese charm is being eroded by these people but I'm just as much to blame having done countless deep sea fishing holidays here myself. It is good however seeing the infrastructure of the country improved. Having grown up in the slowveld there wasn't much exploring for me to do in the South so I made he final dash for home, getting serious bouts of broken chain paranoia.
A coconut salesman at the side of the road.
It wasn't all tarmac as I usually went off the beaten track to camp.
I spent almost an hour riding through dunes to get to a remote place to camp - but the facilities here were long past their prime.
Typical Southern African coastal dunes.
These nippers were up at 5am to do the washing. I was up at 5am to dispatch with Mozambique.
Although my back sprocket had teeth that looked like wave crests and the chain felt as though it was about 5 metres long, amazingly it held and I felt a warm sensation of homecoming as I neared the border of South Africa. I only had about 1.5 hours of riding left after the border and could almost smell victory (and the braai being lighted), but would the chain be playing the game?
Stay tuned for the final post - my final run home and a little warm-down ride in South Africa & Swaziland. I'll also do a detailed post about how the bike performed.
Mark
Where was I? Oh Ja, on this magnificent water vessel on the great Rio Rovuma. I had been good china's with the Nile for many thousands of km's on my trip but this river was on a different scale entirely. My excitement for making this crossing far out-weighed any notions of misfortune - something my Mother describes as the benefit of youthful folly. Ignorance is bliss. The crew were all very proud to be holding the KTM upright so I could turn my attention to making sure the guy bailing water did not get lazy. I also took this opportunity to remove the large ZA sticker from the front of the bike. Some friend in the slowveld had told that the Mozambican were hurling stones at ZA vehicles after the recent xenophobia that was going on. My jovial spirits were put on hold for a moment when our craft got stuck on a sandbank and a couple of the crew had to disembark to dislodge the boat. Although the river was approx. 2km wide here at the mouth most of it was very shallow (low tide) and our zig-zagging between little islands resulted in the crossing taking about half an hour. We arrived at the far side to an unwelcoming looking steep bank. The captain kept the motor on to push the boat against the bank and the rest of us plus some additional Mozambicans dragged the bike up the very steep 10 foot bank. There was much sweating after this exertion so I flashed a few more dollar notes in appreciation. I had made it!
I placed my ZA sticker on the boat, much to the crews' amusement. This oke was the sand bank scout. He did a kak job.
Up the bank on the other side. Don't be fooled by the bank in the far horizon - it was only one of many islands in the river.
There was nothing on this side of the river. No signs of life or road. The few Mozambicans that we had encountered on this side pointed me in the direction I should take through the bush - obviously there was a road somewhere in the distance. After a short while crashing through the riverbed I found a rudimentary track and followed it for about 10km's to the closest village. In this village it was easy to spot the only permanent looking structure and I was welcomed by the immigration official who booked me into the country. His English was good and assured me that there would be no xenophobic backlashes on team oranje. I asked why the road leading out of the village had a large collection of branches blocking it off. He said it was only used by a vehicle once a week when he was relieved, and the obstruction was to keep the elephants out. This place was DOOS wild!
Initially the road was rough but not sandy.
And then the sukkeling began...
I hit this track and it quickly became the most difficult riding of my entire trip. The sand was so deep that my panniers would knock on either side of the ruts now & then and usually send me to the deck. I was barely creeping along with the KTM at full taps in first gear. To quote WC fields; the road was fraught with imminent peril. Something had to give. To my surprise that something was the bike and not rider. The sand had just got a little shallower when I heard & felt much liquid erupt from the engine. In a split second I had thought it was oil and the trip was over. Thankfully it was not. The radiator pipe leading to the engine had popped off and all coolant liquid was liberated from the engine & radiator. This was not a fatal blow but nonetheless I was in a bit of a pickle. I only had about a litre of drinking water with me and quickly decided it should be kept for my good self in the interest of self-preservation. I found the nearest tree to sit under (one that could be scaled in the event of an encounter with an elephant) and began to ponder my predicament and wait a few years for a passer-by. Africa being Africa it was only a few minutes before a local emerged out of the thick bush and walked up the road towards me. He had a little boy with him, who hastily disappeared into the bush to hide when he saw me. I explained in sign language what had happened and asked him for some 'agwa'. He understood and disappeared back into the bush, returning half an hour later with a bucket of the finest Mozambican river water. I filled-up and gave him a $donation for his efforts. His very shy son had been slowly & carefully creeping forward towards us throughout all of this. He was very shy and nervous. I inquired why and his father rubber the skin on my arm - a gesture that I took for this little fella probably not having seen many or any wit ou's before. Eventually he came & stood for a photo but when the strange and noisy orange horse started he ran back into the bush. His father & I both laughed - probably his first sighting of a motorcycle.
Some of the hardcore sand.
The KTM parked-up with a severe radiator coolant shortage.
My local river water supplier & saviour with his shy son.
I carried on riding on this very difficult road and eventually made it to the next village or Palma. My first 40km's in Mozambique had taken me three hours of riding and one hour under a tree. I cannot stress how WILD this place was. I was fortunate to grow up a stones-throw from the Kruger Park and spent most of my childhood in the bush, but this was absolutely untouched. Although I rode over many Elephant dung mines I didn't get to see any live specimens. I stopped to buy some water in the town of Palma and an English speaking guy told me of a resident lion that was picking off the villagers every now & then. I didn't stick around as bait and made for the biggest town in the North called Mocimboa Da Praia where I camped for the night.
Finally the sand was replaced by some hard stuff.
Some old Martini-Henry rifles excavated by a local.
Mozambique's finest unleaded.
Ethiopia's finest coffee beans still cranking out the espresso's each morning.
After this town the roads generally got better with some patches of tarmac starting to appear. There was however no fuel so after exhausting all the bush fuel I had bought in Tanzania I had to resort to a few litres of Mozambique's finest high octane palm wine. I made it to the coastal oasis of Pemba where there was plenty fuel, food, drink & company. Pemba is an incredible place and not as spoilt as places to the South. It has some of the best looking beaches on the planet, an endless supply of fresh seafood and is also a diving mecca for those who prefer to look at the marine life rather than eat it. In Pemba I stayed at a fantastic camp site with a huge bar that was the hub of the small SA community there. During the last few days of tough sand tracks I had noticed a slightly different knocking noise coming from the LC4 so took a day to do an 'inspection' service. I thought that the valve clearances were slightly loose so tightened them up. Another thing I had noticed was that the KTM guys in Nairobi had not put in the correctly sized spark plug - it was a larger sized one that left no room in the recess for a plug socket. I was eventually able to get it out with a pair of long-nose pliers, probably what they had used to put it in. In went one of the decent spares plugs I was carrying. I was to find out much later that the valves were actually fine and I had made them a little too tight. The noise I was hearing was a combination of LC4 paranoia (totally unjustified) and the usual audio changes of an engine getting looser. A very good family friend in South Africa has a huge hunting concession in the Rovuma area and I met up with his local partner for a tour of Pemba and it's watering holes. He told me that he had been asked to get rid of the man-eating Lion I had heard about in Palma and was just waiting for a delivery of bullets before going to take it out. Some people get the short straw.
There are very many pedestrian fatalities in Mozambique, but you could not pay me enough money to walk in this grass.
Bicycle charcoal transportation.
Bicycle bicycle transportation.
After Pemba I took the main roads inland leading Southwards. I had little choice but to use the tarmac network as they usually led past fuel pumps (funny that). The country of Mozambique is incredibly long, especially in the North, and I ended up doing much more mileage in Mozambique than in any other country on the continent (almost 3000km's). I spent the next few days getting some big mileage under the belt (about 500-700km's a day) and although the engine was perfect my chain woes returned. The chain was making a big noise and was now stretching rapidly and taking the sprockets with it. One day in particular I stopped to adjust it four times at the side of the road. During all of this it had also worn through the plastic chain slider and then started having a go at bisecting the swing-arm. I was mega-paranoid about this and couldn't stand the thought of failure being this close to completing the trip. At one point I fabricated a new slider - sout piel maak 'n plan - using a piece of truck tyre and some cable-ties. This gave me one day of riding without swing-arm deterioration and the following day I replaced it with an even better version - I flattened a couple of large 2M beer cans and moulded them over the swing-arm. This proved to be just as good as the chain slid over them without cutting through for two more days. Although I was still on tar there were some silly sections of around 50km's that had more sandy potholes in the road than tarred-covered bits.
Typical scenery in the central interior.
They're building a fancy bridge across the Zambezi river, but things are going slowly with many construction workers getting chowed by crocs.
McGuyvers first take at a chain slider.
The swingarm deterioration.
Armed KTM security while I went to lay a coil.
There are several massive rivers which flow through central Mozambique in the summer.
By now I was past the fairly boring central interior of the country and approaching the touristy coastal South that I was familiar with. There GP 4x4's were now coming thick & fast on the roads and before I knew it all you saw were bakkies loaded with Quad's towing JetSki's. It's a pity some of Portuguese charm is being eroded by these people but I'm just as much to blame having done countless deep sea fishing holidays here myself. It is good however seeing the infrastructure of the country improved. Having grown up in the slowveld there wasn't much exploring for me to do in the South so I made he final dash for home, getting serious bouts of broken chain paranoia.
A coconut salesman at the side of the road.
It wasn't all tarmac as I usually went off the beaten track to camp.
I spent almost an hour riding through dunes to get to a remote place to camp - but the facilities here were long past their prime.
Typical Southern African coastal dunes.
These nippers were up at 5am to do the washing. I was up at 5am to dispatch with Mozambique.
Although my back sprocket had teeth that looked like wave crests and the chain felt as though it was about 5 metres long, amazingly it held and I felt a warm sensation of homecoming as I neared the border of South Africa. I only had about 1.5 hours of riding left after the border and could almost smell victory (and the braai being lighted), but would the chain be playing the game?
Stay tuned for the final post - my final run home and a little warm-down ride in South Africa & Swaziland. I'll also do a detailed post about how the bike performed.
Mark
Carnivore
Race Dog
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhhhhh !
Eish!
Oh my....
Thanks for the report...
:biggrin: :thumleft:
Eish!
Oh my....
Thanks for the report...
:biggrin: :thumleft:
Nardus
Pack Dog
Grrrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaaat !!!
Yefimovich
Race Dog
- Joined
- May 4, 2008
- Messages
- 1,233
- Reaction score
- 0
- Location
- Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS
Really great report!
Waiting for the Finale!
Waiting for the Finale!
ratrap
Race Dog
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2007
- Messages
- 2,553
- Reaction score
- 3
- Location
- Central Karoo
- Bike
- Honda XRV 750 Africa Twin
:thumleft: :thumleft: :thumleft:
brettp
Race Dog
Eish Mark, you really have a wonderful ability to keep our attention, yet you do so with such ease!
Thanks for the best ride report that I have read to date!!!
Looking forward to the final instalment!
Thanks for the best ride report that I have read to date!!!
Looking forward to the final instalment!
Buzzlightyear
Grey Hound
:blob3: :blob5: :blob6: :blob7:
The anticipation is mounting...
It's a GREAT read so far. Maybe your bike needed a scottoiler?
The anticipation is mounting...
It's a GREAT read so far. Maybe your bike needed a scottoiler?
Trailrider
Bachelor Dog
Sheez. Great report.
Where's the last bit? ;D
Where's the last bit? ;D
bradleys
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2007
- Messages
- 1,589
- Reaction score
- 7
- Location
- Lake Side,Cape Town
- Bike
- KTM 640 Adventure
Going to miss this report,great read ,looking forward to your next instalment :thumleft:
KAT-WP
Race Dog
I have been following your report with a lot of interest 8)
You are a hero in my eyes to have done so much travelling SOLO in some very difficult countries with that awesum 640 you got ;D
some of those roads looked hectic to get thru and then just riding kays & kays alone..... well done :thumleft:
Look forward to your end report & esp how the bike performed overall
Cheers
Mish
You are a hero in my eyes to have done so much travelling SOLO in some very difficult countries with that awesum 640 you got ;D
some of those roads looked hectic to get thru and then just riding kays & kays alone..... well done :thumleft:
Look forward to your end report & esp how the bike performed overall
Cheers
Mish
stevgh0
Race Dog
more please!
since london to sa was no problem, how about meeting us in cape town on friday?
since london to sa was no problem, how about meeting us in cape town on friday?
B
BigEd
Guest
Jeez Mark, what a ride! What a report! Bliksem! Solo nogal!
Gonna miss the catch-ups.
Fanks man, you make it worthwhile going online for... I've even checked all your videos :thumleft:
Respect!
Gonna miss the catch-ups.
Fanks man, you make it worthwhile going online for... I've even checked all your videos :thumleft:
Respect!
stevgh0
Race Dog
BigEd said:
Maximum Respect.. Booyakasha!
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
Its wish it was more detailed, Im sure you still have plenty of other stories to tel. You have a raptured audience.
Thanks for the effort!
Its wish it was more detailed, Im sure you still have plenty of other stories to tel. You have a raptured audience.
Thanks for the effort!
Doerengone
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2008
- Messages
- 620
- Reaction score
- 3
- Bike
- KTM 640 Adventure
Hiya Mark. Great ride, great report writing. KTM and bush coffee, good combo there.
Similar threads
