Day 6
I woke up feeling considerably less hungover than the last day, we ambled over to Flamingo's restaurant and helped ourselves to a fantastic breakfast. This was our digs in Flamingo's:
Have I mentioned that I cannot recommend the place enough. We had a quick chat with Rikko and Matt about the route we were planning to take when we leave Lubango. Rikko mentioned that we should be mindful on that route, firstly because of the cotton mud (tracks change every rainy season, thus you cannot rely on GPS for navigation).
The other thing he mentioned was the local populace there - according to Rikko they are extremely isolated and in some cases it might even be the first time they see white people. I would think of our conversation later in the trip as it put some of the local's responses in context.
With that we set off on a route north along the beach provided by Rikko - if ever you go to Flamingo's I would suggest you avoid the river entry / exit at all costs, you or your bike will shake to pieces. Speaking of which, short while later Heiko realised his speedo wasn't working:
As it turns out it was just a bit of dirt by the sensor which a bit of cleaning solved. This was also our biggest mechanical failure of the trip - guess the Japanese fanbois have a point when when it comes to the reliability of these bikes
We carried on North, direction Namibe, and the riding was awesome. There's these super steep bluffs that you can ride along and it was awesome fun to cruise up and down them. At this point we also didn't need to carry fuel anymore so we were just having a jol.
The view across the ocean was also absolutely stunning:
Eventually we hit the tar and drove into Namibe. Interesting to note was massive neigbourhoods built by Chinese that stand empty, while you'll see lots of people on the outskirts of Namibe living in shacks. Not sure what that's about. We had plans to meet up with Nuno (he was the guy that took care of us at Foz do Cunene) so we headed to the Namibe beachfront.
Wasn't long before Nuno showed up and wouldn't you know - it was beer 'o clock:
Once again I have to mention the hospitality of the Angolans, just incredible. Eventually we had to say our goodbyes, but it was a good one as we knew we are leaving having made good friends with good people. We also made Nuno promise that he would visit us when he comes to Namibia, with the hope that we can repay his kindness. It felt so weird just being on the receiving side of generosity and not being able to reciprocate. Maybe that's a bit of a sad reflection on our culture where we always seem to want something in return, and if someone gives us something we wonder what strings are attached. But I digress.
Something to keep in mind for future travellers, Namibe is actually called Mocamedes now, and the province in which it is located is called Namibe. It has a very chilled vibe and the people invariably are very friendly. It reminded me a lot of my home town, Swakopmund. As I did many times on the trip, I couldn't wonder where Angola would've been if it wasn't for that decades long war. As we hit the tar road to Lubango I had lots of time for introspection about how we have so many shitheads in our "privileged" society and how in Angola we've basically only seen goodness, despite these people having been through so much. I know I'm generalising, but I would like to challenge anyone to feel different having done the same sort of trip we're doing.
Anyhow, enough of that. We klapped it down the tar road to Lubango. And with klapped I mean buzzing along at between 80 and 100 km/h. The bikes are geared pretty tall plus we had mousses so didn't want to thrash or overheat them on the tar. After all the horror stories about the comfort etc. I must admit that this section was perfectly enjoyable. Turns out you can really appreciate the scenery if you're not blasting down a road at a million miles an hour on one of the big duallies.
Was a pretty chilled ride and before we knew it we were at the foot of the Leba pass. There's a big sort of market along the side of the road there, stretching for a I'd say a kilometer of two. Heiko has a tradition where he'd stop there and eat something every time he hits the pass. I thought well that's pretty cool as far as traditions go so we pulled off and negotiated a nice price for half a chicken, chips and a couple of N'Gola's. Everything in Angola is negotiable and also expected I think. They'd write a number in the sand, we'd write one and invariably they'd write one about midway between the two. That little ritual is also a cool way to break the ice with the crowd and to get communicating.
The chicken was a lot tougher than what I was used to, but immensely more flavorful (is that even a word?). The fried potato chips however, was without a shadow of a doubt the best I've ever had. I swear I'd go to Angola just to have lunch there again.
Here's me in my happy space, belly full of good food and beer in the hand:
Must say Heiko also looked pretty pleased with life here, and why not:
With that we set off to tackle the Leba pass itself. Leba pass is a twisty road with a lot of switchbacks and traffic, climbing from basically sea-level to about 1800m in a very short space of time. I was a bit nervous driving up there, as there's trucks barreling down and sheer cliffs on the side, so probably couldn't appreciate the views as much as I should have.
Jip, it's a fricken long drop from there!
Beeeeautiful:
Once up Leba pass, it's about 20 km's on to Lubango. Our heading was the biker bar mentioned in MetalJockey's report. Once again we had the smell of beer in our noses and we tackled Lubango peak hour traffic with gusto:
These aren't my pics but it gives an idea of how traffic is there. Driving on the right is OK but for some reasons the traffic circles just confused the everloving shit out of me.
Imagine how great our dissapointment was when we reached the bar and discovered that it is now basically a construction site. This was going to be one of the highlights of the trip, but I guess it was not be. This left us in a bit of a tightspot. It was getting late and dark and we had no place to sleep. Luckily Heiko's family knows a gentleman called Turbo who has a trucking business here. We rode to what we thought was about the city center and tried to get a hold of him on the satellite phone. Luckily we did, and he basically insisted we spend the night in his house. Wasn't long before he showed up and escorted us to his house on the outskirts of Lubango.
Once again the generosity and hospitality was just out of this world. He absolutely insisted we take the bedroom of his kids, this is despite us insisting that we'd be more than happy to just camp in the garden. Resistance was futile so there I was:
As if the hospitality was not enough Turbo insisted we join him for a dinner at one of the local steakhouses, which we gladly did. Turbo lived through the war years and at stage he had one truck which he used to make deliveries into Unita territories. He casually tells stories of how people he knew were murdered by soldiers for something as simple as a pair of shoes or a pack of cigarettes. What really shook me was how he speaks without a hint of bitterness, sadness yes, but acceptance mostly. It forced me to reflect on my privileged little existence, where I feel bitter and slighted over what is really trivial matters. Guys like Turbo forces you to take a look at yourself and what you find looking back is not always good.
Turbo also spoke about Socialism and how it was to live under that. When you have a babies to feed and you have tickets for food and two weeks in the month all your tickets are done and that's it, no more food and you're not allowed to barter or buy. I think a cure for all these idiots advocating socialist society is a evening with someone who's actually lived through it.
On a lighter note, Turbo told us of how, when they were allowed to come into Namibia in the 90's doing transport, They would for example have R10 spending money, and then they would each only buy 1 bread for the trip because they thought everything was rationed here also. They also strictly adhered to all speed limits, because they basically thought the South Africans built tar roads that would tell the police ahead if they speed. He also spoke of the happiness he had when he realised he could buy more than one pair of socks in Namibia. I guess I'm rambling a bit but that night with Turbo really made a difference to how I perceive my life and reality.
With that it was time to head back home and get some sleep. I laid in bed in that Hello Kitty themed room and just thought about stuff till the early hours. Then I slept, like a baby.
