Dawn, and what a dawn. Damn it's good to be alive.
Our camping spot turns out to be quite scenic, although my matress gets punctured.
Day 7 since Fred fractured his ankle. It is also our final day, tonight we sleep in Namibia. Fred must be looking forward to getting the hell off that bike and putting his feet up.
We get going again and it's going to be good, only gravel today. It doesn't feel like the end of the trip though, we haven't had enough yet. Premature.
The first village we get to is Otjindjao. It turns out to be a lekker spot. We find the local shop. This is the display window.
If it's displayed here, you can buy it inside. If it's not displayed here, you need to leave town and hope the next town stocks it.
The locals have a dress sense that never dissapoints. Remember Miami Vice, Don Johnson and those colourful suits?
Fred, ever the gentleman.
Around back we see an opportunity for breakfast.
And so it is. Goat meat for breakfast being prepared.
Regardless of my reservations regarding goat meat, it turns out to be quite palatable. Marinade chicken last night, meat this morning, wer'e living the high life.
There isn't a wall anywhere that isn't pocked with bullet holes.
The special guests even get chairs.
You'll never find Michnus not smiling. It makes him a lot of friends.
The shop keeper.
A lot of the vehicles, cars included, have the owners name on them. This bike belongs to Mr Kalukiti.
Check out the pump and panga.
You will not find a single male here that does not carry a panga.
This is what a panga does when mixed with too much beer.
This chap took some convincing before he would let me take a picture. He's got that Yul Brynner - Westworld thing going.
Even down to the glowing eyes.
How is it that a face can tell you so much?
Not quite a microwave oven.
When we leave Otjindjao we are very strong. They sell a good quality beer there. Hennie very correctly points out that there is a landing strip at Otjindjao, so being airlifted is possible. That gives us license to ride like we need to.
And this is what the road looks like, perfect for some serious
steeking.
With all humility I have to say, I'm fcking quick when I'm drunk. Some unholy racing ensues.
We race like crazy untill the beer wears off and Hennie drops back. Shortly thereafter I hit a donga so hard it kills the motor. It's that piece of shit Mikuni BT40 they fit to these bikes, it should be used in scooters, not racing bikes. Anyway, it brings me to a halt and Hennie and I wait for the rest to arrive.
As we left the shop at Otjindjao I bought three bottles of McKenzie Blended Whiskey. It looked odd because it is bottled in beer bottles, and it uses the word 'blended'. So I figured it's something like Klippies & Coke, a whiskey mix. While we wait we take these out. By the time Hennie is swallowing down his third mouthfull he realises there's no mix. It's just whiskey. He does well and keeps it down.
The rest we mix with warm water though.
Me, I drink beer. When there is no beer, I drink water. On the odd celebratory occasion I'll drink Stroh Rum. But for the rest I cannot differentiate between whiskey, brandy or any hard liquer for that matter. It all tastes like crap to me.
Hence the face.
Effective stuff though, mediocre jokes turn into roaring hilarities.
Those first three mouthfulls catches up to Hennie and he tries to walk it off.
When we pull away there the octane is back and we give it horns. The road turns into twin track though and takes a lot of speed off. It crosses over rocky hills and through dense trees, some rocky riverbeds and some nice deep red sand. Good stuff. Good riding. Finally we reach another village. We pull straight in to where the bar is and order some Black Labels. We must be close to Namibia again.
To the surprise of the locals Hennie goes straight to bed.
Supremely comfortable these Angolan matresses.
Again the locals turn out to be the participatory type.
Always ready to have some fun.
Just as we stopped at the Village Michnus pulled in also. He mustv'e been flogging that Dakar (his wife's bike). The other two take a long time before they arrive.
Nardus waited for Fred on top of a hill while having a cigarette. When the cigarette was finished and Fred had not yet arrived, he turned back to look for him. The last day and Fred was still not finished with his grass roots inspection of Angola.
That pic is not the whole story though, Fred was joking around. I have to give it to him. He never bitched or moaned, he always had another joke. The only way we knew how much pain he was in at any time was to watch the colour of his face.
This pic tells more of the story. The reason Nardus's bike is lying down with the ignition on is that when he arrived on the scene, Fred was lying where that red arrow is. Nardus got another scare. Fred flew in between these two trees without touching them.
That's the thing with sand. When I came past here I was doing around a 100 km/h, at that speed the sand is a hard surface. Even the animal tracks in the sand could be felt on the handle bars. Fred, worried about his leg was going much slower, thereby increasing the difficulty level manyfold.
Between here and the village where we were waiting Fred took another tumble. Luckily (?) it is Freds' other leg that takes the punishment today. He did a good job of it. The leg is blue from top to bottom, only interrupted by a red and bloody knee.
When they arrive Nardus's dust cloud draws admirers.
We have another enjoyable stay and are entertained by the locals.
Like I said, Michnus makes friends everywhere.
This is our second village stop for the day but we need to make the border before closing time, and we still have to make a social stop in Chitado. So we bid them goodbye and hit the road again.
On the way to Chitado I try to catch Hennie and Nardus and get 40km of swallowing dust for my trouble.
At Chitado we pull up to the same place we did the first day of the trip. Fred - fat foot and ciggies. More or less sums up his trip.
This lady reminds me of Christina Ricci for some reason.
Our last picture of the lovely women of Angola.
The friendly KTM engineers put a big hole in the side of the tank to direct the radiator heat onto your inner thigh. Thank you. I just love riding with my legs wide open like an invitation to all passersby.
One of the local variety bikes. Them Chinese, you just have to smile.
We reluctantly take our leave of Chitado. Borders don't wait.
The last couple of km's on Angolan soil. Across the dam lies Namibia. It is over. It is done. It was good.
(PS - I'll do one final post as soon as I get a picture problem sorted out, thanks for staying with it.)
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