Pomphuis Bikers Chronicles - the DRC edition

[ratrap]

Lekker reading! This inspires me to GO RIDE!

 

[madmike999]

looks loke an awsome ride with some nice guys,

where's the rest

 

[bonova]

Day 4 – 560 km, 2 border posts

Our tent

saying goodbye - we gave them some reflective bands for their kids

Off to the border, which we passed through uneventfully into Namibia.

"stealing" a safe at the border...that this was un-budgeable!

Through the Mahango game reserve, and passed Popa falls to Divundi, where we turned right and onto the mind-blowingly boring Caprivi tar road. On the way, we say 3 guys on bikes – an 1150 and two 650 dakars – more waving, and we slowed down to see if they were going to stop. Didn’t see any brake lights though, so we carried on – sometimes there just isn’t time to stop I guess. Those were the last D/S bikes we saw.
That road is bad – “fall asleep on a vibrating x-challenge bad”. Even the constant elephant warning signs on the side of the road couldn’t keep me interested! Alas, eventually we pulled in at Katima Mulilo, where we bought supplies and lunch. I’d noticed Claude’s break light wasn’t working, so he went off to find a spare – great success again.

Koos putting on his NAM sticker

The border post was pretty easy. More time consuming on the Zambian side, but not bad.
The officials asked where we were going. We said “to Mongu”. “Ahhh, via Lusaka” they said. “No, straight along the Zambezi”. “EISH… but there is no road man”. “No”, we say, “it’s marked as the M10 on the map”. “No, the road is VEEERRRY bad” they say. We shrug our shoulders - can’t scare us.
We changed some money there before leaving, and we pull out acting like we know exactly where we are going, even though we get some odd looks.
3Km later, the road did get pretty bad. Some fesh-fesh, deep rutts, and some sand. Pretty slow rough going.

After 20 km, we managed to find a place to camp, just after sunset. There was a long track to the campsite, pretty sandy and lined with mirror bending trees. We were pretty tired, and I think we all went farming trees / bush once or twice.

The road to the campsite:

out out (the next morning)

So after a long day’s ride, we pulled into the beautiful Sakazima (means: ‘to put out the fire’) Island Lodge (and campsite), right on the Zambezi river (does it get better than this?)
There was no one at the campsite, but after a short while, a boat pulled in and the caretaker (Eric) came and saw to us. He said we could camp on the mainland – no pLoblem (no one on Zambia can pronounce the “R” in any word, so they substitute a “L” – very funny.) We asked if there was booze and were pretty disappointed that there was none. But after 30 min, he pitched up with a bottle of Klipdrif brandy and a bottle of Jagermeister – awesome. We bought the Klipdrift and mixed it with game.

(had a laugh the next morning, cause we gave them the empty bottle to keep when we left and they gave us the raised eyebrow…  it obviously seemed that we’d finished it between the 3 of us, but actually we decanted what was left  into a small bottle for packing sake).

Our campsite

My bike had been giving an issue with a fuel feeding from the Touratech tank. This was because of the heat in the middle of the day (from being cold when we filled up) – the OEM tank obviously heated up, increasing the pressure and preventing the vacuum pulling fuel from the TT tank. Anyway, I took off my seat to see if it was something more serious. It wasn’t, but at the same time, I saw that my sub-frame had broken. The aluminum just wasn’t up to the bad road and the heavy weight, and the end plate of the main attachment point under the seat sheared off. We all thought long and hard about a solution, and came up with an ingenious plan. We metal welded a torx socket into the frame, used that as a washer and re-bolted the sub-frame on, with some metal-weld to stop rotational slipping.

Then we shifted some of the heavy stuff out of my panniers into Koos’s, and hoped for the best.
I tried to put on a brave face, but I must admit, that broken sub-frame put a dampener on my dreams of reaching the DRC and beyond. I really thought I’d have to take pansy roads all the way from there. I’m ashamed to admit that I might have even threatened to get a different bike ASAP when we got home. Obviously, and this is what I love about my mates, the others lifted my spirits easily, and after a few klippies, a spilt bowl of noodles, and a cigar – all seemed peachy again. I knew that no matter what happened I wouldn’t be alone in my predicament.
Without getting sentimental on your asses, I love my mates. Our group dynamic in pretty incredible and something that we all appreciate tremendously. We each compliment the others in our own way, making it a hell of a strong group. It was the same on the last trip with the 5 of us.

It was a really nice evening and night, with the sound of the river 40m away. Pretty cold again though, and Claude was up well before sunrise, stoking the fire up. 

 

[bonova]

Um...did i mention lots of photo's  :ricky:

Day 5 – 310km
Sunrise was stunning.

The night before, we’d arranged with Eric to take us on a quick river cruise in the morning. He came from the island and fetched us.

We 1st went and had a look at the island lodge – absolutely amazing!

View from the bar

And pretty cheap too – I think it was in the region of R280 pp per night, and really top notch views and fishing etc. Then he took us down the ‘river’, which was only a small part of the river, blocked off by islands and rapids. We saw 2 Pels Fishing owls, Fish eagles, a Croc and some other birdlife.

Then we headed back and met up with a whole bunch of guys taking Makoros (hollowed out tree canoes) down river to sell into the Okavango. It was pretty impressive how each guy was guiding 3 boats downstream. They needed to go over rapids and quite a big distance to get to the ‘selling spot’. Then they would catch a bus back up river and start over.

Stash of Makoros

We packed up our stuff and headed off.

The road stayed pretty much the same – some deep sandy areas, and some mild fesh-fesh. Deep ruts too. It was bad – hence the mileage for the whole day.

running next to the Zambezi

After about 100Km, we came on a boom gate (maziba check point). It’s some kind of ‘toll gate’ at the provincial boundary. It was a fairly pricey amount per bike – the same as a bakkie would be, and we argues with the guy manning the boom (in civies clothes, no badge or anything) He presented a crumpled government notice that blah blah said we needed to pay. A heated argument ensued after we said it was ridiculous given the state of the road. The very young official said he was not a child, and started throwing racist comments at us and declaring that this was not colonial Northern Rhodesia anymore (Ja, like for ages dude, we know). What the hell he was going on about, no one knows, but his mates joined in, and they were pretty unfriendly. They obviously had issues to deal with. Long story short, we paid the damn thing (R100 each), told them not to get their panties in a knot for no reason and wheel spun out of there. There is always some official trying to ruin your day  .
The going was really slow, and very dusty. I dropped my bike is some deep sand when I was not concentrating and going too slowly, but nothing serious. Koos had some hairy experiences, given away by his tracks which I laughed at as I was at the back.

We stopped in at a school where we saw lots of children to do a hat hand out session. This time, we had an interpreter, and the kids also understood English pretty well. Koos and Claude had the kids laughing with their antics – Claude pretending to be a truck, and knocking Koos over.

Principle on the left, then the teacher/interpreter

Then it was question and answer time, and hats were handed out. A quick game of soccer ensued in the classroom, and then we were on our way.

I think we pissed off some grumpy WHO people that were trying to have a meeting in the village just next to the school - we were distracting their audience. But the lady who appeared to be the WHO boss there was super unfriendly, so we didn’t care. How the hell do you expect locals to listen to your advice if you are not friendly? The principle of the school was only too chuffed to have an excuse to avoid the meeting, and rather sat in on our entertainment.

After what seemed like an age (it was pretty hot now in the day), we came to the ferry over the Zambezi at Kalangola.

We bumped into 3 SA vehicles heading in the same direction, and ended up on the ferry together. Nice people. The ferry is the same as the Kazungula (from Bots into Zambia) one, except the other side is deep sand. I think the chaps in the land-rovers laughed at us struggling up the bank of the river.

The road continued to be a track until Senanga,

After that, it was brand new tar road all the way to Mongu. At Senanga, Claude managed to get someone on the side of the road to feel sorry for us, and he went into a building nearby and came out with ice cold water – awesome, because it was actually really hot riding along the river, and all of us had run out of water by now.

We had lunch on the side of the road just passed Senanga (pro-vitas and muscles) where Koos found some more children to give hats to.

Then it was a quick ride up to Mongu on the tar.
At the traffic circle in Mongu, we stopped to discuss a plan and look for a campsite. While we were on the side of the road, this white guy (what, there are white guys here???) comes from across the road, over a fence and heads right for us. He greets us smiling and asks if we are looking for a place to camp. Why yes, as a matter of fact, we are.
And that’s how we met Zander. He directed us to a campsite where he stays, warning us that we gonna hate him cause of the deep sand. That’s when I realized that he rides too – he knows about the sand monster. Then he got into his land cruiser and led the way there.
He wasn’t joking about the sand – deep track. When I got to the campsite, all I could hear was the far off reving of engines. After awhile, Claude pulled in, having sweated his bike through. Zander then walked back to find Koos, and offered to ride the bike further, cause Koos was buggered. When he pulled into the camp, even he said that it was a real bitch with all the weight on the bike.

It was an awesome place, just above the floodplain of the Zambezi. And excellent facilities too. There we met his wife Linda. They are part of a group of people belonging to an A.O.G church in CT, who are helping to build water wells in the area to provide safe drinking water. Nicer people you will not find.
They invited us over to have supper with them – wow. Fillet steaks, salad, potatoes etc etc. AND, home made coffee (roasted and ground by Zander).

Also, long talks about bikes and routes from there onwards. Turns out, Zander has a KTM 690 R enduro outside that he plays with all over the area, and he had a 1200 GS that he and his wife rode around when they were in CT.(also turns out he’s a fellow Wild Dog – zanderas I think – we are infiltrating the whole world!)
Slept nicely after a warm shower :biggrin: and full stomach. Happy times…very happy times.

 

[zanderas]

Great trip report (so far) and great to have met you guys too!

 

[Maverick (R.I.P.)]

Subscribed  :biggrin:

keep it coming  :ricky:

 

[CAR6850]

Awesome :thumleft:

 

[mrhyde]

very nice pete!

 

[badballie]

Subscribe  :thumleft:

 

[Gina]

Great report keep it coming

 

[Oom Foe-rie]

Very nice  :happy1:

 

[bonova]

Day 6  - 580km
Checked my frame – holding 100% - awesome- starting to think this might work.
After loading up the bikes, we had to ride them up a steep section, with deep sand.

The Hill... compliments Linda

My lighter bike made it up ok, but the others needed a helping hand. Zander then took us an easier (everything is relative) way out, following the flood plain up river a short distance before making a dash up a sandy incline with a nasty donga on the Lt side.

Zander in the front

Koos had a tumble right next to the donga, and Zander tore off on his 690 to give a helping hand.

Zander then rode with us through town before heading his own way to go play on the many tracks around there. I was a bit envious of his unloaded bike I must say!
The road East out of Mongu was really good tar, and the miles flew by. At Kaoma, we turned North on a good gravel road, which continued for about 50 km, and then, after a small bridge, suddenly deteriorated into a jeep track.

Getting directions (when stopped by police - always ask directions - they love it and send you on your way)

More directions

the good road

This was a provincial border. The track had some interesting sections, and you had to concentrate. We were riding through fairly thick forested areas, with many smallish (mopani?) trees, so the dust hung in the air, and I could just sense my air filter taking shots.

After the provintial border

The track continued for a fair distance, and then suddenly opened up onto a road under construction – basically a gravel highway, wide and smooth, but with lots of trucks carting soil to continue the building. Probably funded by the Chinese (I speak under correction, but we saw a lot of Chinese trucks carting off hard-wood) to get wood out.

Water stop

At Kasempa, the road turned tar, and we followed it north to Mutanda. We’d have liked to make Solwezi but it was getting late afternoon by now. After getting some directions at a road block, we headed out of town, where we saw a dodgy looking board that said accommodation and went to check it out. Turns out it was an awesome place called Mutanda falls. The lady uttered the typical – no pLoblem to all our questions, and we pulled the bikes into the garden and ordered beers.

The ‘campsite’ (just the garden really) was overlooking the beautiful falls (more like rapids), and there was some cement that we parked the bikes on to work on them Claude and I both adjusted our chain tensions, and I rechecked my frame – still fine (and held for the whole trip actually)

Some local chaps were having a braai (small sheep) and invited us over to join them and have some meat. Very friendly dudes, most of whom live and work on the mine in Solwezi.

Many beers were drunk, and the one guy who was a policeman, ended up singing some pretty bad versions of some music that he expected us to know. We just nodded and agreed that is was the coolest music around. After that we had a beer or 2 with the manager, and headed off to bed after a hasty afterthought supper.

the manager

 

[ADVENTURERIDER]

Very nice. Subscribe

 

[zetman]

This is why we work to have such a leka adventure trip i cant wait man hurry up

 

[funacide]

Really nice report, thanks for sharing and keep it coming.

 

[JustJane]

Liking the pics, but then again I always do!!  :thumleft:

Where's the next installment!! Or I'll be forced to get back to work already  :-[

 

[cable tie]

Awesome! Man I can't wait to get out of this office and onto the bike! :ricky:

Keep'm coming! :thumleft:

 

[ROOI]

Subscribed  icon_biggrin

 

[bonova]

Day 7 - +/-  450km

Morning at Mutanda Falls

In Solwezi we filled all our tanks to the brim and headed for the DRC (– yay!!!)

We 1st took the dirt road that skirts the massive mine there on it’s eastern border. Then we turned east towards the border. The going was not as fast as we hoped. The road was ok, but slow going trucks were impossible to pass because of the fine dust. That and Claude got a puncture in his front wheel when a rock that he hit pinched the tube.

Slime obviously didn’t fix that, so we changed the tube, while Koos did the standard Streetwise talk to the fairly large crowd that gathered out of nowhere. He also took a local’s bike for a spin, much to their amusement.

The Electric pump that Claude had somehow blew the fuse in his bike, and that was the last we’d hear from it (cause it kept blowing fuses whenever we tried it). Fortunately I had a manual pump which served us the rest of the way.
Loaded up again, we set off.

The border at Kipushi was carnage. A massive wall of people, probably 800m long filled the streets on the Zambian side. It was market day.

Where is Wally?

With my loud pipe, most got out of my way, but the others had to dodge a bit. The Zambian side was pretty easy. After stamping passports, carnets, etc. The DRC side was however immediately and issue. We had been told that it was possible to get visas at the border, but, turns out, you can only get them at the Pweto border post (probably illegal anyway). So, after much discussion and sitting around, we had to turn back. It was massive disappointment after being so excited to go in, but there was just no way it was going to happen. All of our minds were turning over ideas of how to proceed from here, and how much time we’d loose in the process.
So, back to the Zambian side, another page in the carnet, cancel the passport exit stamp, and back through the crowds of people, who were by now thinking “ crazy Mzungus” I’m sure. Then, 180km of dirt back to Solwezi, sucking truck dust once again.
Our quick plan was to head to Ndola, where the DRC embassy is, and try get visas there. But, it was getting late already, so we decided to pull in at Chimfunshi wildlife orphanage on the Kafue river. We’d been there in 2002 on a Vet project called Books for Africa, and were super keen to visit again.

Sunset on the road

The last 30 km was in the dark, and dodging people, trucks and potholes was no fun at all. Then it was 18 km of track to the house. When we arrived, Sheila and Sylvia were so happy to see us, and welcomed us like long lost friends. It was great. We were very sad to hear that Dave, Sheila’s husband had passed away the year before, but otherwise, the place was as it was the last time – it had a warm familiarity about it, almost like you felt at home there.
They refused that we camp in the campsite, put us up in a large room, and made us a hot supper, washed down with plenty of beers and lots of stories. Wow wow wow.


next installment...

 

[cable tie]

Great report bonova, now hurry up with the next installment! More pics...