CapeTown South Africa to Tsumkwe Namibia
August 2023
There are men who are driven to test the endurance of their bodies and minds, and the way they may choose to do this in unimportant and often foolhardy, but the real truth of that they do is they must prove themselves able to do it. An unknown gentleman with the last name of Lund ventured out from Capetown in 1905 under much different circumstances to travel overland to Cairo. What drove this man do take on such a dangerous adventure? Perhaps the same desire to prove to himself simply that he could do it. He wound his way through the bush, month after month until being separated from his guides and team of porters. While suffering from the grip of Malaria on the side of the path a chance meeting with another explorer by the name of John Jordon took place.
John offered food, and quinine to help the Malaria but Lund declined additional help and to join John on his journey stating that his men should be along shortly. Reluctantly John left Lund on the side of the path. Later in life John describing Lund as a man refusing a lift in your car because a bus would be along soon. Lund made it as far as the Lado area of modern-day Uganda where he died.
Ewart Grogan was the first man to have recording the journey of successfully traveling overland from the Cape to Cairo. At the age of 24 he left Cape town traveling two and half years to arrive in Cairo Egypt in 1900. His journey was an epic adventure probably best read from his own account “The Nile As I Saw it” published in 1905.
My journey from Cape to Cairo was stirred in my spirit over the last 25 years by reading of the earlier account of Adventures and Explorers. Of course today I can drive across instead of walk and after traveling extensively in Africa in a Land Rover or automobile decided for speed and safety a motorcycle would be the best form of transportation.
Today the journey begins, 20 years in my dreams coming to some sort of reality, good or bad, success or defeat, there is no turning back now. My flight from Colorado Springs to Atlanta started on the wrong leg as hurricane storms were crossing over Atlanta before our arrival. We were vectored over Tennessee and circled for 45 minutes before attempting a landing in which at the last minute I was fortunate enough to experience my second aborting landing and “go around” on a commercial flight. We circled the airport in stormy turbulence to land at another heading without incidence.
My concern was missing my connecting flight, which was the Delta direct to Cape town, a long 15-hour snake like route managing to stay directly in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean all the way down to beautiful Cape town South Africa. Fortunately, due to the same storm my connecting flight was also delayed, and I managed to make my connection, luggage and all, onboard.
Many months of planning have previously taken place for this journey, I purchased the motorcycle, a Kawasaki KLR 650 online from what I was told was a reputable seller, at least he confirmed he was reputable. I happened to be working in Kenya when I found the motorcycle for sale via classifieds and reached out to the seller. “I have a lot of interest in the motorcycle and if you are interested you must wire the money ASAP” explaining the fact I was working and not able to do any banking until my return home he said he would hold the bike. In the meantime, he stated he was a local motorcycle mechanic and could customize the motorcycle for my journey which would be very convenient. I did some quick research and came to the conclusion I was safe with the purchase.
Over the next few weeks this gentleman made many suggestions and I many requests as to how to set the bike up for such a journey, spare tires, pannier boxes, tools, center stand etc. He said I can pay for the bike upon my return and for the additional items when I arrived in Cape town. He also stated he would handle the paperwork for the journey as South Africa will not allow a foreign person to register a vehicle within the country, and I need to be able to cross multiple foreign borders. I promptly paid for the motorcycle, and asked for a bill of sale which was not forthcoming, but I did have a copy of the wire information. We then spent the next exciting few weeks discussing all the options and upgrades he would do to the motorcycle.
I began the fun task of mapping my route and planning my journey, looking into insurance, permits, permission, visas and many other small items I did not want to hinder me while on the road. It wasn’t long after my first payment was made that I received a text, again while I was in Kenya working stating that to purchase the additional items would I wire the remaining money so we could get to work at once. RED FLAG! I expressed my concern and truly felt in my gut I was making a mistake but at this point flights were booked, and I needed to move forward. I asked again for a bill of sale and itemized list of the items we agreed on with prices. A few days later this arrived via email and the constant requests for a wire commenced. Many pics of options and what he had planned for the bike came over (to get me excited) and I relented, wiring the remaining balance.
June, July, August passed with no updates, surprise! I asked for pics and updates with excuses that he will be finished with the bike tomorrow, or start Monday, he sent me pics of tires, boxes and other items but none on the bike.
Being busy myself with planning as well as setting my job up for me being away time went by until it was one week before departure, I was assured all would be done and I can leave immediately upon my arrival. He also was willing to pick me up at the airport. The Sunday before leaving I received a text that none of the paperwork would be complete and if I could have some local friends’ step in and help. I truly lost it! I explained that I had relied on his expertise to handle this and demand he step up and keep his word. We will sort everything else upon my arrival but with my tight schedule to please have everything ready for me to depart the morning after my arrival.
I arrived Tuesday evening, checked into my room and made arrangements for pick up the following morning. Imagine my surprise upon my arrival home to find nothing had been done with the motorcycle, absolutely nothing, no extra tires, no tools, nothing. Also, we had to run to the police station to handle the paperwork on the way to his home which thankfully went without a problem. We then proceeded to call friends who could weld, locate other items etc so I could leave town. Of course, with no success. I decided to cut my losses and leave without most of my upgrades, which I paid for of course.
Other than this we actually hit it off and he began to show great concern in my route and trip, he even admitted at one point that he figured I would never show up as many people chase these dreams and never actually follow through. Regardless, I was here and needing to hit the road as my goal is to make it to the shores of Lake Malawi in two weeks’ time.
Loading up my gear, gassing up including my extra five-liter container (a used plastic oil container even though I paid for crash bar mounted fuel containers) I hit the road. Enough of the seller from this point forward.
I was not used to such a heavy bike, as most of my motorcycles are small European vintage bikes so I struggled along westbound on the M15 to catch the M7 North in fairly light midday traffic. I longed to get out of the city and begin riding through the beautiful South African northern cape. Its currently wintertime in the southern hemisphere and I was thankful for my heavy leather jacket and gloves. The great Table mountain was looming through the fog as it passed to my left and I slowly began to leave the city behind for the country.
The motorcycle handled nicely and due to some road construction, we all cruised along at 80KMH, not record speed but perfect for me to get used to the motorcycle and how it handles, especially loaded down as I have it. I was hyper diligent as I had landed the evening before, and jet leg was affecting me greatly. My first mishap was early in the game as my right hand pannier box rattled loose and crashed into the road sliding along in one lane highway traffic. Thankfully the cars following me were able to swerve and miss the box as it bounced and slid down the road. Due to the road construction in the area, there was not a sufficient shoulder so I pulled to the left as tight as I could to the side of the road running back to save the box as well as its important content. It was a struggle to get it reattached and burned my hand on the exhaust. I decided to awkwardly hold it on my lap and drive up to a safer place to pull over so I could re attach it correctly. To my surprise everything worked loose so I re-attached everything and secured it with straps just in case.
I had no real goal for today, just to ride and get used to the bike a bit, the countryside was beautiful as it had been a wet winter so all the crops, trees, were beautiful and fragrant and the grassy hills along the highway reminding of the California central coast in the spring. As I meandered north the road curved close to the coast and back inland and I could feel the refreshing temperature change and cloudy skies the nearer I rode to the Atlantic Ocean.
Passing though Piketberg just before Citrusdal is a similar escarpment as you enter the great rift valley West of Nairobi. Trucks were lined up climbing the escarpment and I, with my 650cc was able to pull strong and pass up the grade. Such a beautiful climb on winding roads round the Cederberg wilderness area.
I was beginning to get tired with all the excitement and frustration over the past 36 hours and decided to start to find a place to pack it up for day number one and the next town ahead is Clanwilliam. I swung into town as the sun was beginning to set and noticed quite a bit of traffic in this sleepy little place. I drove up to the first guest house I passed to find all the space was booked and according to the owner, probably all places in town were booked due to a flower show event in town. Imagine my luck on my first day on the road, struggling with a new bike as well as jetlag not able to find a place to stay. I drove to the outskirts of town to another lodge I couldn’t locate and darkness was falling fast. I really wasn’t comfortable driving on at night and was really exhausted so as I rode around town, I happened to pass the Clanwilliam Lodge, a historic government building restored into a boutique hotel. I happily was able to find safe harbor and quickly showered, ate supper and went down to check oil levels and the condition of the bike after day one.
Of course, I dropped off to sleep early and was wide awake at 2:00 am. With my active mind contemplating miles, hours, weather and road condition and my goal being Nkotakota on the shores of Lake Malawi for this leg of the journey didn’t help with getting back to sleep.
Finally, daylight began to show along he horizon and I quickly got dressed and ran down to add some oil and fuel up the bike for todays ride. Met some very nice local people at breakfast and some other travelers. One of my favorite things is meeting fellow travelers on the road, they are usually the most interesting people with interesting stories. One particular couple was heading south as I was heading north and when I asked a local gentlemen’s opinion on a route north off the beaten track they chimed in that they had just returned from that route and highly recommended it as It was a beautiful dirt road along the river that fills the Clanwilliam reservoir.
So once packed, I bid my farewell and took road 363 north/east of Clanwilliam. As much as I wanted to make time heading north, I wanted to sit back and enjoy the scenery and stay off the main highways. I don’t believe I saw another human being on R363 as it is the road that runs parallel with the Oliphants river, meandering around curves with majestic eucalyptus trees, along huge farms and orchards. The road was gravel most of the way but there was a touch of sand here and there which caught my attention. My motorcycle was heavy and loading down with gear and my skill level on different terrain was going to have to advance rapidly as I am used to road motorcycles on pavement.
R363 ends and reconnects with the main highway at Klawer and even though I probably lost two hours of time it was well worth the detour. As the journey continued north clouds and colder weather started moving in from the North/East. The temperature was dropping, and I began to get uncomfortable, I was wearing a heavy leather jacket, denim jeans and leather gloves but were still cold. My goal today is the town of Okiep which is close to the border of South Africa and Namibia, after good night’s rest I can hit the border early.
I arrived in Okiep late in the day and I already had a place in mind to stay. Tired and cold I drove into the compound to find, yet again, they all booked up for a biking event taking place the next day. Imagine in the middle of the week, off season, in the tiny South African town of Okiep everything booked up. The kindly offered me a meal in the restaurant as I hadn’t eaten all day sand informed me my only option for lodging was to return back to the town of Springbok. I decided to call ahead this time and managed to find accommodation at a quant little guest house called Kiprand guest house. The weather had turned for the worst and was beginning to rain, freezing rain as the temperature had dropped just above the freezing mark. I was shivering cold so checked in and took a very hot shower. I could not find heat in the room so climbed in bed and went to sleep waking up late in the evening. I decided to skip dinner as I just wanted to sleep and keep warm.
Early the following morning I was woke to a cloudy day and thankfully it had stopped raining in the night. The weather ahead in Namibia was clear and I was excited to warm up in the heat and sun. For one planning such a trip please allow me to explain the procedure for taking a motorcycle across country borders. South Africa will not allow a foreigner to register a vehicle in their name unless working or living in the country. However, a non-registered vehicle is of course not allowed to leave the country.
So after much research the only option is to purchase a bike, get a bill of sale from the seller, work out a deal to keep the bike registered and current in their name, go to the police station and ask for an affidavit giving you permission from the seller to take the bike across borders, be specific as possible with dates and countries you plan to cross. I also had my passport and the sellers ID copy notarized by the SAP (South African Police). I also carried with me copies of the bank wire information from when I purchased the bike and my international drivers license. While having breakfast the owner of the guest house asked me where I was going and looked over my paperwork, he stated the one thing I was missing and that was required was a ZA sticker for the vehicle showing its currently a South African registered vehicle. He was currently out of stickers, and it seemed every place I went to in town was also sold out but luckily, I found one at an auto parts store and after a few hours delay hit the road. I had a plan in my mind so instead of attaching it to the bike I added it to my paperwork folder.
Continuing north I passed through Okiep again and the country started to change, leaving the mountains behind I began to enter terrain that resembled Utah in the US, large red rocky mountains with brush and sparce vegetation. The sky was still cloudy but way off to the north I could see the clouds break and sunshine coming through. Finally, up ahead was the dreaded border post, I had been through this post before but was nervous about bringing the motorcycle over.
“When in doubt, walk with confidence” a saying that I quietly say to myself a lot when traveling or working in Africa, I have learned that people, even with bad intentions can easily be swayed if they feel they are needed or asked to help. I recall a situation where I was unloading some material from a truck, it was in a very rough village and teenagers that were up to no good were gathering around, no doubt looking for an opportunity to pounce, I quickly announced that I needed their help unloading the truck and that the items were fragile and valuable so we must be careful. Instantly they dropped in line taking pride in the fact they were so careful and even protective of the items that they previously were looking for an opportunity to exploit.
As I pulled into the border station, I noticed they were very slow. I wanted to do my best to respectfully control the narrative so pulled out the ZA sticker and started the conversation asking questions regarding the sticker, do I need it on my bike? Where do I need to attach it? The border guard very kindly helped explaining where to affix the sticker, even helping me find a rag to clear the dust and grime off the box to add the sticker, I graciously thanked them all for their help and they stamped me and the bike through, never once asking for any paperwork or questioning my journey. I breathed a sigh of relief crossing the mighty Limpopo River leaving South Africa behind and entering beautiful Namibia.
About 5 kilometers past the Nambian border post is a fuel station and wimpy hamburger place. I stopped for fuel, wasted a nasty hamburger and rested for the long haul across the desert to Keetmanshoop. I am beginning to get used to the motorcycle at this point and finding myself making much better time averaging 120 KMH. Soon after entering Namibia, I drove out from under the cloud cover and the sun shown bright on my path ahead. Traffic was light and I was excited to explore some of the small areas of Namibia. Along the route at many times the road would stop due to construction with a flagman, I would get caught behind a row of trucks and once free of the construction pass my way up front again just to be caught behind another row stopped for construction again. The Chinese oversaw the road construction as they are in much of the infrastructure on the African continent.
I noticed at one of these stops what appeared to be dripping liquid onto the ground, I had checked the oil level, water and fuel at every stop, even swinging into rest areas occasionally to rest my back and check levels so wasn’t overly concerned at this point. On and on, hour after hour I cruised through the barren land of South Namibia, occasionally a baboon or small antelope would cross the road in front of me.
Making much better time today I was actually covering a lot of ground so I set my goal for Mariental, a small farming town I central Namibia. I calculated my arrival time just as darkness was falling riding a little over 11 hours in one day.
Pulling into town I turned on main street and pulled into the first guest house I could find called the Tahiti inn. They had a charming restaurant and filled with local people having dinner. When I stopped the bike, I realized I was leaking fuel at an alarming rate so I pulled the bike away from the parking lot as to not flood fuel around the other vehicles and checked into a room and ate dinner.
The locals were a very friendly bunch and asked many questions about my motorcycle ride, when I explained the fuel leak one gentlemen gave me directions to a mechanic friend and called him to let him know I would be there in the morning on my arrival assuring me they could handle any problem. I crawled underneath the bike with a light and noticed the leak was coming from way under the tank which isn’t a good sign. After a fun evening of meeting new friends, I turned in lodging an empty coffee can under the leak to catch wasted fuel. The lodge was a cute thatched roof place, clean and simple and I slept for the first time all night.
Early the following morning I cleaned the bike with a rag and grabbing just my helmet and important documents went to find the mechanic. As I pulled up he was waiting and assigned a mechanic to help with the motorcycle. We at once pulled the tank and found on all the dirt and gravel rough roads I had rattled the bolts holding the crash bars under the tank loose, actually breaking one and it rubbed a hole into the interior part of the tank causing the leak. A little over 1000 Kilometers including rough graded roads and taken its toll thus far.
As we examined the tank it was clear we must weld the spot closed as well as deal with the broken bolt holding the crash bar on, it would not hold tight causing it to come loose and vibrate against the tank, after a couple hours of trying to fish the end of the bolt out we decided to fix it the “African way” and simply tack weld it secure so it wont work loose. This bike with get a lot of beating on this journey and originality is not one of my concerns. After fixing the motorcycle I decided to beat around town and take a day to relax and site see.
A young Chinese couple were having a problem with their credit card being declined, I watched from the table waiting to see if I would need to cover them. They asked me if that was my motorcycle in the parking lot on which I confirmed. They asked, in very broken English, if they could take pictures sitting on the bike in which I said they were most welcome. After the pictures they signed my tank with a Chinese message for safe travels and we had lunch together.
They spoke little English and of course I speak zero Chinese, but we were able to communicate non the less. They were on a six-month backpacking trip from Cairo Egypt to Cape Town, the exact opposite route I am hoping to complete, they were hitchhiking the whole way. They explained the only country they felt unsafe in was Ethiopia and had a few close calls there. However, were able to see many amazing sites all the way down. I was impressed with their tenacity and we went our separate ways both wishing each other well on our particular journeys.
The people of Mariental are known for their hospitality and unique history, The town was founded in 1912 by German Lutheran Missionaries and was soon a railway stop between Keetmanshoop and Windhoek. The name Mariental was named after the wife (Maria) the first colonial settler in the area Hermann Brant. Mariental hosts the oldest Dutch Reformed Church congregation in Namibia. Mariental also is home to the Nama speaking people who are the descendants of the early Khoi people of Namibia.
Its easy to make friends in Mariental and hopefully I can come back and visit soon. Back in the saddle I continued North to Windhoek, crossing the Tropic of Capricorn right before the town of Rehoboth. The scenery was beautiful reminding me of driving though Prescott Arizona or perhaps Sante Fe New Mexico with its beautiful desert mountains and dry climate. The altitude of Windhoek is 5433 feet, similar to Denver so it’s blessed with warm days and cool nights and a dry comfortable climate.
Arriving in town the highway I needed to take to head east to Gobabis was closed so asking directions from the friendly locals I had to go the old route twisting and turning throughout the town. I welcomed the opportunity to spend some time riding around town, traffic was slow as it was mid-day and the city is beautiful and clean. I saw many fellow moto riders including one on a vintage European bike, I was not able to catch the rider to grab a picture of his or her bike. This is my fifth time to Windhoek and its nice to have the freedom and time to explore the city and hope to many times in the future.
Working my way through town I found (thanks to help from the locals) the B6 and began my journey east for the first time. My route to Kenya is taking me up the west coast of Africa, mainly because I want to spend more time in Namibia, then I plan to cross over the Caprivi strip into Zambia continuing in a Northeast direction until crossing most of the continent from West to East as well. I have previously driven (by car) from Cape town to Zambia up the center which is considerably faster as most of the journey is highway. But I am wanting to explore off the beaten bath a bit and take my time.
The B8 is a nice highway crossing the country from Windhoek to the Western Botswana border with the town of Gobabis my next goal. Way back in 1998 Angie and I were on this very road and day turned to night without a safe place for us to stay, we were on our way to the Kalahari in Botswana and the border station was closed so Gobabis was out destination for the night. We came into town in the dark and were very tired, we found a rundown hotel with vacancy, and we were the only guests. We ordered a pizza from the hotel restaurant and couldn’t even eat it as it was so horrible. We were starving and decided to drive into town to try to find a place to eat and fortunately found a small friendly restaurant on the dark quiet street. We explained our situation with the old hotel and the owner of the restaurant explained that they were also a guest house, and they had a nice bright and cheery room there if we wished to move. Leaving Angie having desert I ran back to the dreary old hotel and grabbed out belongings and moved to the new place.
Well, here I am again 25 years later riding my motorcycle into Gobabis looking for accommodations. I stayed at the Gobabis guest house as the guests of Kobus and Cheryll Pienaar a nice little hideway on the outskirts of town. They don’t service dinner so the Kobus suggested I go have a nice dinner at the Goba Lodge a little farther out of town. After shower and rest I heading to Goba Lodge for dinner on their beautiful patio by the pool.
My plan for the journey from Gobabis to Tsumkwe is as follows, according to my GPS, which I can only download with wifi in advance and it wont update during the route, I will leave Gobabis North bound, have a series of turns on smaller roads and then proceed north on the D3301 for a total of 460 kilometers, its all gravel/dirt/sand roads and I can safely make 320 Kilometers to a tank of fuel so will bring an extra 10 liters of fuel in two 5 liters tanks. Also, I will bring 2 extra liters of oil. As far as food and water, I am bringing three bottles, one water filter given to me by the friend and co- founder of GA2030 and one precious Coca-Cola in case I need a sugar load. I ate a huge breakfast and hoped to make 460 kilometers in 6 hours so planned a super early departure. Boy was my calculation way off.
Heading out of Gobabis I instantly hit the sand and started sliding around a bit, remembering the directions I received from a friend when it comes to sand is to power out of the slides. I had little confidence in these conditions but thought no better way to learn or even master driving on slick or sandy roads than to jump in with both feet, that was a stupid thought.
I quickly was tiring due to the death grip I had on the handlebars and every time I slipped I overcompensated fish tailing and wondering all over the road. I simply decided to slow down to a crawl and work my way through. It was early in the morning, the sun rising to my right and a clear beautiful day. Of course, any motorcyclist would know that going slow does not make it easier and the bike sinks in the sand, the front tire working like a rudder throwing the rider all different directions. I thought of letting air out of the tires however I was so afraid of the washboard and huge potholes pinching my tube and the fact the seller back in cape town did not give me the pump or center stan, I knew changing a tire would be a difficult task for me on the road. So I went on.
I began to gain a little confidence powering up the bike and staying on top of the sand but then would catch some deep sand forcing the steering left or right almost throwing me off the bike or swerving me off the road. Some parts of the road would transition to gravel and I would make up for my slow speed, excited to think I am through the sand, just to be plunged back into 50 kilometers of deep sand again.
On and on, I went dragging along getting frustrating, the sun was rising as well as the heat and my water was also getting hot as it was in my panier box my filter bottle was full and it was also baking in the sun however, I was drinking water anyway.
Up ahead in the middle of the track was a white pickup with what looked like an older man standing in the back, I slowly approached to be flagged down by an elderly German man and his wife who was totally lost. He asked me in broke English if I knew the way to Tsumkwe and I said I did and he was welcome to follow me. He was so glad and stated that was going slow, but so was I and I was so happy to have some backup in case I fell into a problem or broke down on the road. We took off, me in front and he is following in his little white rental truck. I breathed a sigh of relief and it felt good to see him in my rear-view mirror.
Problem was he was going slower than me! I would get a few kilometers ahead and then have to stop and wait for him, also he kept missing turns and I had to backtrack to find him however he was my security blanket and I was ok with it, even if we rolled into Tsumkwe together at midnight and least I had some backup. On and on we trudged, most of the time out of sight from each other but I was focused on not falling off the crazy bike in the sand. The country was a barren waste land and hitting close to 100 degrees farenheight. I was drinking water and stopping regularly to rest from the stressful situation.
Around one in the afternoon I pulled over and had to wait thirty minutes for my new friend, while stopped I realized I was burning through gasoline at a fast rate as I was on and off the throttle constantly trying to navigate the sand. Also I added a bit of oil and I was also burning oil rapidly.
When my friend and his wife would arrive, we would step out of the car and visit a bit trying to understand each other. Occaisonly I would glance at my phone to check the gps location I had downloaded earlier and at one point noticed my little arrow was slightly off the track. Sometimes this happens, even in the city if the gps signal is lost and I thought nothing of it until about tow hours later I had to be honest with myself with the fact I had missed a very vital turn to the left heading directly North to Tsumkwe. I was now continuing in a North West direction close to the border of Botswana on a dirt track that was continuously getting worse as far as road condition is concerned. When I pulled out my printed maps I was able to see I was on a dirt track that is called (by some people) Gom road as it passes through a village called Gom, also even though that track is smaller, and farther as it winds around the border of Botswana it does lead to Tsumkwe coming in from the East instead of West. On one of our rests I broke the news to my backup but he seriously didn’t understand what I was saying and simply continued following at a very slow distance.
Around three in the afternoon I pulled off and drank some hot water which nauseated me and removed my jacket and gloves as I was seriously burning up. As my company pulled up behind me, I asked if he had some extra cool water in which he gave me a cool bottle from his ice chest. He offered to put the water and coke in his ice chest which I was greatly thankful for however an almost fatal mistake. The cool water was refreshing, and I immediately sweated it out.
Thankfully the track turned to the north, and I was glad to be getting closer to my destination albeit very slowly. At the last stop my friend finally understood by me showing him my map that all we had to do was follow this track and that there were no more turns in our journey, he seemed quite relieved however we had many kilometers to go.
Again I got way out ahead and the road was constant hills and bends, the top of the hills were gravel or hard soil so I could gain some speed and traction and as I went over the crest of the hill at the bottom was thick sand, sometimes so thick the bike would stand without a kickstand in the sand, so I would speed up the hill to loose control on the backside in the sand, if I slowed down I would immediately fall over, if I gunned the bike through the sand it slipped and slided almost to the point of crashing. Truly a brutal situation and I am the one to blame for not preparing myself for such conditions.
At one point I was gaining the top of a long hill gaining speed and trying to make up for lost time, over the top and down the other side I noticed the deepest sand bank yet, the road was totally gone and it looked like the back of a sand dune, in I plunged and I gunned the bike to try to ride on top, my front tire turned sharply to the left almost throwing me and then as I fought to steer it turned sharply to the right tossing me off the bike and into a sand bank, the bike buried up half way up the tires and the frame held solid in the sand, it promptly died as was in gear.
Frustrated, hot and dead tired I sat for a moment in disbelief as to what I put myself into. I removed my helmet and started the bike, putting in first gear I tried to spin the tire and push the bike free but it simply died, I tried again and it was getting hot and died again. I kept trying to use the bike to free itself but it was buring hot and I noticed my oil was getting low again. I added my last liter which brought it back to normal as well as my last five liters of fuel.
I was relived to see the little white truck off in the distance and five minutes later backup showed up. They rolled down the window and I asked if perhaps I could pull the bike free with the tow strap I had brought, they didn’t understand. I turned around to look at the bike and to my utter surprise they rolled up the window and drove off heading north into the sunset leaving me buried in the sand, alone, with 200 kilometers of sandy roads with no more extra fuel and even worse, ten times worse, all my remaining water remained in their ice chest. Why did they leave? all I could figure was the route was simple from there on and they didn’t need me anymore, or perhaps they mistaken my request for a tow from the sand as get in your truck and go without me and by the way, thanks for keeping my water cool and please deliver it to Tsumkwe.
I must admit I was furious, and a scared, it was dead silent, and I was in the middle of one of the most remote bush areas in Africa, wildlife everywhere and little traffic. I looked at the bike and had to make a plan to get it free so got down on hands and knees and started digging sand from around the wheels and frame. An hour went by and I finally reached the gravel road under the sand and lowered the kickstand to keep it from falling over and cranked it up again. She sprang to life, I put it in first and rocked it back and forth and she slowly crawled out of the hole. The sand was so deep I had to walk the bike a couple hundred feel to a solid area or It would just fall over as the kickstand had no base in the sand. Walking back to my helmet and gear I reloaded the bike and slowly continued.
It was the hottest part of the afternoon, around 4:00 Pm and I could not ignore my thirst, I don’t feel it was particularly life threatening however dehydration caused my tongue to swell and its amazing how ones mind can only focus on one thing and that is water. The hot wind and evaporation of sweat kept me cool but craving water like never before. My quest for kilometers changed to a quest for water. I noticed a lady along the side of the road ahead and had to ask her for water, she of course didn’t speak English and I did speak her local language however she got the idea quickly when I motioned for something to drink, she disappeared into the bush to return with a pot of semi cool water and a man who spoke very broken English. I resisted downing the water in one huge gulp and not knowing the source of which the water came from I thankfully had my epic water filter still attached to the bike, I slowly filled the filter to not waste any water and struggled to quench my thirst sucking water through the filter and straw. I felt slight nauseous so sat under a shady bush along the side of the road and slowly drank all the water she brought my while two strangers stood there watching.
I was totally exhausted, I mean more exhausted than I have been in 20 years. The struggle with the heavy bike in the sand, multiple layovers trying not to get hurt and the stress to be off the road before dark was something I hadn’t planned for. But I was prepared for such situations and motioned to the couple asking if I could camp on this spot for the night. I had my tent, sleeping back and now some water and felt I needed to shut down for the evening. Of course I could camp anywhere I like however do I really want to spend the night in the bush. both people have left me to continue with their day and I was alone. So I sat there and rested.
The sun was beginning to dip to the West and I felt it was slightly cooling down and after the refreshing drink I thought it best to move on. I had no cell service and Japsie was waiting for my in Tsumkwe as well as I would not be able to check in at home which would probably cause some unnecessary worry. After a long rest I got back on the bike and battled ahead. I used all my remaining extra fuel and oil and simply planned to go as far as I could.
A few more kilometers down the road I came to a conservatory gate and the guard slowly came out to meet me. This is the first person I have spoken too that understood my questions and he told me to make sure and stop in the next town Gom and that there was a guest house there but no fuel. He stated that beyond this gate, especially in the cool evening to watch for elephants on the road and suggested I quickly stop before dark. Sometimes you can buy fuel from traders along the street but probably not this late in the day. I opened the tank and was surprised I had probably a little less than half a tank so pushed on the 70 Kilometers to Gom.
The road improved a bit, still gravel and sand but the wind had not accumulated the sand in deep banks as well as I could tell the road was a little more travelled. I was able to clip along at about 50 KMH. I pulled into Gom just as the sun was setting, I had to drive through the village back and forth twice before finding the guest house and sadly found it abandoned. Time and fuel was being spent as I asked around for whoever managed the guest house, plus after dark the streets seem to come alive and I didn’t want to be the dude on the motorcycle attracting unwanted attention. I decided it best to keep moving and camp in the bush if necessary, animals are one thing, being the only white guy and an expensive motorcycle in town after dark is another .
Just past the town of Gom was another gate and the guard informed me I was 100 kilometers from Tsumkwe, a quick calculation in my head revealed in one and a half hours I could be in a secure guest lodge with food, wifi, shower and a solid bed. That is if the bike held up had enough oil and fuel. I pushed on.
In the dark the road was even more challenging as I couldn’t see the sand drifts, it was much better than earlier in the day on the dirt track but I was truly at end of my mental and physical strength. This area is filled with wildlife and thanfully while I saw elephant dung all over the road where they had crossed I kept pushing through at 70 and didn’t see anything, of course I was dead focused on the road ahead. I don’t thing the average person knows what darkness is where there is absolutely no external lighting. One can literally not see your hand in front of your face until the moon comes out and I was just a small moving light traveling alone trying to stay focused on the beam ahead, trusting I am on the correct road as I have no point of reference the shadows and skeletons of trees lining my path, hoping something doesn’t run into the road in front of me.
Finally, in what seemed like and eternity I came to a T junction and this is where I turn left for the remaining 20 kilometers to Tsumkwe where as you enter town I could gas up and buy some oil at the only station in town on the way to the lodge. The last 20 kilomters seemed like it took hours and I could see the large cell tower ahead in the dark with its red flashing light as my guide. I pulled into town and as Gom before, the streets were alive with fires, cooking and people meandering around. As I pulled up into the little fuel pump and store which reminds me of something from the 1920’s I was immediately surrounded by curious people. All speaking different languages some seemed to be begging, some trying to help me probably but definitely not where I wanted to be at this point in time with such exhaustion and lack of focus. The gas attendant came forward and I simply said I would come back tomorrow and drove off with hoots and hollers of people that had come around to see the idiot driving a motorcycle through at night.
Turing left at the gas station I drove down the paved main street to the end of the streetlights, turning right on the potholed road and left into Tsumkwe Lodge, the gate was shut for the evening, but the guard quickly opened it. I drove into the first parking lot, shut off the bike and stepped off wanting to kiss the ground. And this concluded one of the most challenging both physically and mentally days of my life.
Thankfully they were expecting me at some point and my friend Jan (yan) had prepared a meal for me and I had a cold Coca-Cola as well as a few bottles of water. After dinner I sat answering questions to some of the fellow guests about the ride almost like it was a dream. A hot shower and phone call home and to Japsie and I turned in to safety and comfort that is so welcoming after such a day. All night I could head elephant trumpeting and walking just outside the camp.
Up early the next morning I got some oil and topped up the bike. I proceeded to tighten up the fairing and all the items that literally were barely hanging on from being rattled relentlessly. The bike was running great so I guess no major damage was done. My plan for the day was to ride to Japsies camp after breakfast but I was struggling to get back in the saddle, Japsie called and stated he was on his way with the truck and suggested I leave the bike at the lodge in which I didn’t argue, relived to have a break from riding as well as I don’t think I have ever been so sore.
The purpose of this bike journey is not only to adventure across Africa, but to visit with friends, fellow colleagues running amazing NGO’s across my route and visit landmarks and cities I have always wanted to spend for time in. My plan was to spend a few days with Japsie, a friend who’s non-profit called River Deep Club works with the rural bushman people of the Nyae Nyae conservancy. He also does wildlife conservation and I had planned to spend a few days in his bush camp helping and tagging along as he tracked wildlife and worked with the Bushman. After a few days with Japsie, my plan was to head due north and catch the road through the Caprivi Strip into Zambia and onto Lusaka where I was going to visit another NGO that a friend from Texas works for, finally I was going to continue east staying with another friend and eventually into Malawi and my final goal of Nkutakuta where I would store the bike until next year. However, it was becoming clear that it would take another two weeks to go this far at the rate I was going so every evening I was crunching numbers on where I could go to store the bike safely. I found myself focusing more on making time than enjoying my time so after some contemplation Tsumkwe will be my stopping point for phase one. Plus, Pine (the owner of Tsumkwe Lodge) can store my bike safely and have a garage for me to service the bike before heading into the second leg of my journey. The problem is I would need to fly out of Windhoek to Lilongwe for the remaining part of my journey which is 400 kilometers behind me so also considering storing the bike in Windhoek as well. We will see how this plays out, anyway my plan is to drive to Windhoek on Wednesday and fly out Thursday morning to Johannesburg and onto Lilongwe.
The next two days were a lot of fun, Japsie and his wife Razan were wonderful hosts and we tracked leopard, elephant and supplied the bushman people a blue wildebeest for much needed protein and hunting for them has been scarce. He taught me a lot about the conservation efforts in the Nyae Nyae as well as its history and his plan for the helping the bushman tribes in the area. The evenings were spent around the campfire listening to the animals off the distance visiting the interesting people from all over the world that you meet in such places.
It was decided I would leave the bike in Tsumkwe with Pine and ride with Jan (pronounced Yan) to Windhoek on Wednesday as he needed some supplies in town so I secured the motorcycle in a shipping container, draining the fuel, disconnecting the battery and storing all my camping and travel supplies. Tuesday night we had a big dinner at the Lodge with guests from all over town including a 20 year local missionary who I truly enjoyed discussing the do’s and don’ts regarding helping people. A book in itself could be written with this gentleman’s knowledge. Another group of folks were doing a documentary on the Ghost Elephants of Angola and their historic migration route from Namibia to Angola which has of course been disrupted my modern borders and cities. They are trying to work on opening the route again. Pine and his lovely wife Dickie joined us and it was truly and enjoyable evening. Jan and I were planning an early departure, so I kindly excused myself and went to my room to pack and get some sleep.
Jason Miller (Kyalo) 