Day 9
The night before we were studying the map and decided that we should go off course and take an alternate route to Mozambique. Seeing the Pistol would not be with us, we did not need to go to Tete any longer.
The roads on the map look OK, the Zumo brothers (eSKaPe and African Sky) type in Mutarara into their GPS's and magically got a route >
My GPS (the trusty 60csx with the original Tracks for Africa ) said NO!
But two rights do not make a wrong, and the 5 of us set off early morning for Blantyre.
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The road to Blantyre was interesting and busy, there is just so many people on the road and you can never get to a decent travel speed.
We reached Blantyre at 11.00am and used all of our remaining Kwacha for fuel and snacks. We were going to be in Mozambique shortly... :
Soon we were driving through these really good looking tea plantations and then the road changed to dirt, then dry mud.
It was inevitable that this would happen..
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We passed through this really amazing mountain pass that went through many villages and it felt like a lifetime before we got out of there. It was about 64KM that we did on these roads and that took most of the day.
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Everywhere you ride, there is plenty of charcoal on the side of the road, and bicycles carry the stuff up and down the road.
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After getting a bit lost and 6km off the trail, we tracked back and finally made it to fairly decent looking road. According to the GPS we had a mere 5 km to go to the next town which was hopefully a border post too. IT was now almost 4pm
We got to a bridge..
This looked promising... and mere 500 meters later we were faced with this...
We discussed our options and realised the only across was by boat. The alternative was to go back the way we came, which was 64km of tough riding and about 6 hours riding time - not an option.
We began with the negotiation and the price was 600 Kwacha each - but we did not have any
We offered dollars and the response was 100 dollars each :
. Clearly the guy did not know the dollar. So we negotiated further after explaining the value of the dollar and we settled on $5 each to get us across the river.
He said the boats were too small so he will get bigger ones, when they arrived they were about 10cm longer than the others :biggrin: :biggrin:
So who was going first...
Kuruman was clearly tired and just wanted to keep moving so volunteered to go first, i was second and Dman took the 3rd boat.
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Can you hear the Chris De Burgh song "don't pay the Ferryman"
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eSKaPe wondering how to explain this to his insurance - this is a brand new bike :mwink:
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African Sky looking relaxed... or is that nervous
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Almost there..
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It took a good hour to get us all across and plenty of helpers to unload and load the bikes.
We sighed a huge sigh of relief as the last bike was unloaded on the other side. Suddenly we were excited again at the prospect of still making the border.
In very broken english we were assured that the border was only 30km away and that it was open until 7.30pm :imaposer:
We thanked our organiser and paid him $60, more that the agreed $25. These guys worked hard on the two Adventures >
>
And so we headed for the border with the sun setting slowly behind us...
It got dark, the road became more and more of a footpath rather than a road and i think we were all wondering what kind of a border post are we heading for on such a narrow road...
Well we made it to the border at 7.30pm in the dark. this is what it looks like in the day
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The security guard sitting outside the customs office told us that it closes at around 6pm. There was no way we could go on. There was a very small village at the border post and we moved on to the shop which was the only place with lights on and tried to get something to drink.
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He did not take dollars!!! :
He made a call and a fixer arrived to sort us out. At first it was ot that pleasant as the fixer insisted on only changing a minimum of $100. We told him all we wanted was some beer and water to cook with. He would not back down so we all put in equal share and got some local currency.
As if by magic, Bashir the fixer, became our host. We inquired about a place to stay and food and he offered up his house for us to cook in as well as his yard for us to camp in. He also arranged a guard to keep the million kids at bay.
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Out came his dining room chairs for us to sit on and drink our beer :biggrin:
The kids sat all around us and just watched - this must have been the most amazing thing for them to see.
We parked our bikes in a boma style and pitched camp on the inside.
We had some two minute noodles, biltong and tuna for dinner :thumleft:
Shortly thereafter we were exhausted and hit the sack. Kuruman was too tired to be bothered with a tent and hooked his mozzie net on a window and his bike.
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To be continued...