Bobole – 24 April 2019
Up early and ready to go after breakfast. My plan was now to get back to Harare, get the visas I needed and get back on the road with as little delay as possible.
The planned itinerary is to get to Chidenguele today, then overnight in Massinga, Vilanculos, Chiboma, Mutare and finally Harare. Each day’s ride will be about 250km which should be about 4 hours riding, including stops.
The road ahead – long but not so winding
Although good, the road was quite boring. After a while the scenery changed from open grass type to more tropical greenery. It was still long and straight though!
Following on my experience yesterday, I called ahead to my planned stopover. It was open, and a campsite was available. However, although the road down to the place on the beach was sandy, according to the guy on the phone, it was easily negotiable on a bike. Nonetheless, he did give me an alternative in the village if I decided it was too risky.
As I sped north, I watched the ceiling of grey clouds with some concern; Cyclone Kenneth was predicted to make landfall in the next day or so, but I persuaded myself that landfall was at least 1,000km away. Still the uniform grey sky looked less than promising. I needn’t have worried; the clouds broke up, were replaced by bigger, fluffier ones and the sun appeared again.
I reached Chidenguele in mid-afternoon and found the road to my campsite with ease. Once off the tar, the road looked iffy; the rain that I worried about had fallen here quite recently and the road looked both wet and sandy with some puddles. Since I was stopped outside the recommended alternative, I decided to take this option, despite assurances that I could make it from bystanders. This turned out to be not a bad decision.
Chidenguele – 25 April 2019
Basic facilities
It’s strange in these places that someone usually turns up speaking fairly good English, and this was no exception. A young lad helped me negotiate a campsite behind the bar and shop of the lady who ran the B&B, which I had decided was too expensive. So I pitched the tent and then asked where the toilet and shower were. I was shown a dark, dingy “African” facility – my guide’s words – in which the toilet was flushed by use of a bucket, and the same bucket was used to provide a shower!
“No,” I said, “Not on. If I’m paying, I expect something better than this!” He understood perfectly and, after a brief discussion with the landlady, I was shown to an unfinished, or unused, room with “proper” facilities that I could use.
Next morning, while loading and checking over the bike, I noticed that both brackets holding my luggage rack to the frame had broken and the rack was effectively resting on the rear light lens. This was not good news! 😦
One of the brackets had broken on an earlier ride from Harare to Nyanga, but I has ascribed this to the fact that a mounting bolt on the opposite site had come loose and fallen off, thus increasing the stress on the remaining bracket, which broke. I had had new brackets made up and had taken spares with me from Harare. However, as part of my load lightening in Pretoria I had decided to take only one with me; bad plan.
My hostess’ husband informed me that the only place to get it fixed – new brackets – was in Xai Xai, about 60 – 70 km back towards Maputo. Since I couldn’t ride with a load, this meant off-loading, going to get things fixed, and then coming back to where I was for another night – assuming of course that I succeeded in getting the repair done and returned in one day.
Not relishing this idea, I went with the husband to one or two local “hardware stores” with no success. He then abandoned me looking for some flat bar, taking my one spare bracket with him. Having found nothing remotely close to a suitable fix, I returned to the bike, off-loaded and put the tent up again.
Then Hubby reappeared with two bracket that had been made locally. He returned with the manufacturer of these engineering marvels and we spent a good 30-45 minutes “discussing” options for a more permanent fix. He then disappeared, giving the impression that he was off to consider and explore possibilities.
Meanwhile I did a quick calculation. I reckoned that the brackets had got me from Harare to here, some 2,000km (roughly). I had only about 1,200km (roughly) to go to get back to Harare, so I thought, I should be able to get there using the new brackets. One of these was too long, so I used one ZImbabwean bracket and one Mozambiquean.
The repair was quickly effected, the tent taken down and the bike packed, again. By lunchtime I was on my way. Of course, this delay meant my planned itinerary required revision.
After my experience in Bobole, I had decided that I would not, by choice, ride after 3pm so that I could get accommodation sorted out in daylight. Thus, I decided that I would settle for Maxixe as my destination for the day, even though it was only about 60-70k short of the planned one.
Maxixe – 26 & 27 April 2019
I arrived in Maxixe, which turned out to be a long strip of a place, in mid-afternoon. I stopped to seek directions to a campsite and was fortunate to ask a lad whose English was fluent and who gave me clear directions to a campsite – next to KFC!
Sunset over Inhambane
I found it with no difficulty and soon was established comfortably, watching the effects of the setting sun on the impressive Cathedral of Our Lady of the Conception, across the bay in Inhambane.
Campismo Maxixe is a reasonable place (Mts 150 per night) with basic, but clean ablutions, an attached bar/restaurant, centrally situated in the metropolis of Mashishay (phonetic spelling).
I had, yet another, chicken supper – I was starting to worry about growing feathers by now – and a beer having decided that I would spend a second night here. This would allow me to carry out a few adjustments to the bike and, hopefully get my phone connected to the internet. I was surprised that my phone didn’t connect on its own, and more surprised that no-one I had spoken to knows how to connect it; tomorrow I would find a Movitel office and get it sorted.
It’s early. I’ve just seen a glorious sunrise over Inhambane, watched a fishing dhow arduously put out to sea in the absence of any wind – not a breath – all the while sat in my tent with a cup of tea.
It is peaceful; the sea shimmers in the early light, gently licking the shore and a single crow delivers a soliloquy from the tree above my tent. A peaceful feeling that induces a wish to sit back, relax and enjoy – to tarry a while.
There is something about watching a clam sea. Slight ripples on the surface with the currents creating streams of lighter and darker blue/greys. And the waves, ever so gently and noiselessly caressing the shore.
!
After breakfast I hunted out the Movitel office. The disinterestead girl at the desk hadn’t a clue, but called someone else, who also didn’t know how to get me connected. After a few calls, he said we had to go to the office – another office – to speak to a Vietnamese guy who had an iPhone and who knew how to do it. Unfortunately, when we got there, Mr Vietnam wasn’t to be found. It was only after a combined effort searching the web that I found what we were looking for. Could have done it myself if I had had a connection earlier – Catch 22!
I contemplated a trip on the ferry to Inhambane, but then decided my time would be better spent checking the bike over, including adjusting the carbs to take account of the fact that I was now at sea level – down from 2,000 feet at Dullstroom.
Dinner was prawns, a welcome change from chicken.
Vilanculos – 28 April 2019
The campsite restaurant was not open on Sundays and KFC didn’t open till 0900, so it some time finding breakfast. Departure was further delayed because the POS machine wasn’t working to pay for camping and it wasn’t until the Boss was contacted and payment in USD was agreed that I was able to set off.
My destination was Vilanculos, and this was achieved without difficulty. I was somewhat surprised that the access road had not improved, in fact it had deteriorated if anything, since my last visit here maybe 10 years previously.
Vilanculos is an unimpressive place. The streets are largely paved, but access to the residential properties is largely on very sandy tracks. I tracked down a campsite to which the road was allegedly paved; of course, it had been dug up and was totally impassable for me, so I had to resort to a hotel again.
Still, I used the time saved in not having to put up the tent to check out the brake mount, which had started rattling again. I stripped it wrapped a piece of thin wire around the pin in place of another washer and replaced a split pin with a thicker one. I hoped this combination would hold it tight, at least till I returned to Harare. I actually did it quicker that the guys in Nelspruit and also noticed that they hadn’t attached the mounting for the brake hose. I finished just as the light faded
Maxungwe – 29 April 2019
I thought the road out of Vilanculos was better than the road in, even though it was the same potholes; however this was nothing compared with what was to come.
The road north from Pambarra is an insult to roads; I have been in conflict zones where one side has tried to deny use of a road to the other and left the road in much better condition than this national road. The potholes are like bomb craters, and alternate sideways, making it impossible to easily avoid them. Even the good bits are bad; imagine the worst corrugated gravel road you’ve been on, tar it and that was a good stretch. When this improved, the potholes became more scattered and the surface undulating resulting in a rocking horse ride. Some sneaky bugger also decided to match the colour of the bottom of the potholes to the road surface so you don’t see them early, and even then it is difficult to ascertain the edges to drive around.
2 hours later and I’ve covered only 111 kms. Stop for a cold drink and chat with the local bikers.
The next 20-30 kms are even more worrying as the road is being resurfaced and, in the meantime, traffic has to use a sandy detour. The surface is actually better than the road, even though as much care is required to negotiate the sandy bits.
An exhortation from Jack to “keep at it” reminds me of a cartoon providing some sage advice, that we used to have on the fridge door.
I have a feeling this advice might be needed again in the next few months.
Across the Save River and the road doesn’t improve much. A chat with a young policeman, when I stopped for a drink, confirmed that my intended destination for the day was out of easy reach. He advised Muxungue as a stopover, 4 hours after my first stop and another 141 kms, I arrive in Muxungue; I’ve averaged 42kph for the day, covering 250 kms. At least the road improved over the last few kilometres.
After getting fuel for next leg – not much else in Muxungue, I am directed towards a guesthouse by the fuel attendant and find it relatively easily. I meet here another person who has memories, long ago, of his father riding a CB750. It still amazes me how popular this bike was in its day; clearly, I wasn’t alone.
A check over the bike shows that it has survived the trial; even the luggage brackets have survived – only the chain needs adjustment.
I decide that tomorrow I will go for broke and try to make Harare in one go. It’s about 550-600kms, but the road is supposed to be much, much better after Inchope, which is only 150kms away, and the road yesterday was pretty good at the end.
Little time to hang about, so I go straight through Inchope – there’s nothing there to stop for anyway – and on to Chimoio. There is now a big ring road around the town, which mitigates somewhat the slowing effect of more traffic. A fuel stop, and on to the border, where I top up again as I have no Zim dollars for fuel that side.
The border is, again, straightforward – a customs guy expresses surprise that the bike is Zim registered and that I’m on my own, commenting that the bikes usually come from SA and travel in packs – and soon I’m heading through Mutare.
Soon enough, well not soon enough really, Halfway House comes up and I stop for another break. This Zimbabwe landmark has had some chequered years recently, but last time I visited I was told it was being relaunched shortly under new management. It is now indeed under new management, but unfortunately not yet open.
I make a cup of tea to fortify myself for the final push. Another two hours and, as the sun sinks, I negotiate the rush hour traffic in Harare and at 1730, after 9:30 hours on the road, I arrive home.
Today, I’ve covered 570 kms in just under 8 hours riding; an average of 71 kph. Now I feel elated; tomorrow and in the days to come, I’ll pay for it.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 