Day 11
We were up pretty early, because we knew it was going be a long day.
Fuel stop
After Filling up all our fuel containers and tanks, we got some vague directions (my GPS had no maps of this area, and Claudes was flat because a fuse had blown. Our map had pretty poor detail too, and signs were non-existent.) We turned North East, heading for Lake Mweru. The road initially was fantastic. Tar at 1st, then good gravel.
I thought we might even make Pweto at this rate. But it was short-lived, and soon we were on a track that could easily be a section of the Dakar rally. It was slow going. (to be exact the - 80km took 5 hours – kind of slow going)
DEEP ruts, DEEP fesh fesh, woops, ½ broken wooden bridges….
At one point there was no bridge, and the only way across a river was blocked by 2 Chinese guys in a land cruiser. They had gotten themselves thoroughly stuck, and were just sitting inside, and getting all the locals to dig, push and heave. To no avail, if you can’t drive, nothing helps.
Then they got another vehicle to try help tow from the other side, but they couldn’t co-ordinate their effort, so it didn’t help. Eventually, they managed to slip sideways a bit, and I was Gat-vol of waiting, so I squeezed round the side and crossed the river fairly easily.
Claude and Koos followed, and with a shake of our heads, left them all to struggle on. If you stupid, you must suffer I guess. Lucky for them, it was a long time till the rainy season!
It was somewhere after this that Koos hit a bicycle. He was trying to pass the bike that was in the road, and got caught by a rutt, throwing him skew, and his pannier hit the rear wheel of the bike. Shame man, the dude fell off, along with his entire load of kasava (roots that the people eat, kinda like maize meal). I think the rear wheel was a bit bent, but otherwise he was ok. Koos gave him some money for damages, and he seemed quite happy, so we went on our way again.
The road just never let up, for mile upon mile of forest lined track
Most of the time, we found ourselves weaving along on the bicycle tracks that cris-crossed the road and took diversions around deep ruts, meandering through the trees that lined the road, only to cross the road again awhile later.
This road will destroy a bike, because it’s hard as rock under the fesh-fesh, and rough as hell because of all the trucks and land-cruisers that have gotten stuck over the last rainy season. It was also hot, and the trees prevented any breeze getting to us. ½ Way through the day, we all ran out of water, and stopped in a village to get some.
The map reading was also interesting. We’d stop in a village, and try figure from our map what was next. After asking: “ Pweto??” to a few locals, they’d all point at a small track leading off through the houses, off the ‘main’ road. It would be in the right direction, so we’d see where it led. Then, after 1-2 km, it’d turn into a more used ‘road’ and we’d know we were on the right path. It was pretty odd, and happened 3 or 4 times at least.
One thing we learnt too late was not to stop in the bigger villages. If you do, in no time the police are there, asking for all sorts of paperwork, passports, beer money etc etc.
After a long days ride, we pulled into Kilwa on lake Mweru. It was getting late, so we decided to try to find place to stay. Unfortunately though, the bikes created a lot of attention, and soon after stopping at the T-junction in town, we were surrounded by people and ‘officials’ of this and that. They wanted to see paperwork, passports etc, and finally wanted money. But once again we refused. Then we went on to the lake, where we pulled into a compound that served as the border post for a Ferry that lands there from the Zambian side. Even after explaining very clearly that we were not going across any borders (just looking for somewhere to stay), the (pretty drunk) official there would not let us go anywhere. He wanted passports and paperwork all over again. Then he wanted some paperwork that we didn’t have, and I had to convince him that the Carnet was what he was after. Standard request for money after that, and then we were ‘allowed’ to proceed. All we wanted to do was have a swim in the lake, but it just wasn’t going to be possible.
We pulled out and went to a ‘lodge’ that the police directed us to. Turned out to be a house really, but the manager was really cool, and allowed us to camp in the yard. However, ½ hour after arriving, ANOTHER police guy pitches up, with an interpreter (one of the original officials that had stopped us). Now he has a hand written list of things to check – paperwork, licences, passport, licence on bike, lights, indicators, and so on and so forth…. And no, can’t do them out of order, and only one person / bike at a time. We all had a serious sense of humour failure, but you can’t loose it with them, they’ll put you in jail. At the end, after all our stuff was in order, and after a good hour and ½ of questions and answers (it was pitch black by now), he says, “where is your ‘mission order statement’ from your government?” We don’t need one is our reply… Ahhh, no good, no good, we need to talk about this (chance for a bribe – rubs his hands together). At this stage, we were really pissed off, and started to have a go at him, saying that he was being unfriendly, and that he obviously didn’t want tourists in his country, and that he was just wasting our time. I think then he got the picture (Claude also threatened to kill him with a thought). Then started the – We must now give him money. For what we ask? For friendship he says – We laugh in his face and tell him he’s not our friend. This upsets him, but he’s not deterred. Ok, then for communication? – No. Ok, then for him doing his job? No. For a drink? NO
Finally he leaves, and takes with him a fair number of curses and swearing under our breaths.
The Manager had organized us some beers, and also some shima and fish for supper. It was nice. We slept against our bikes, under a tree and mozzy nets.
