Sat 01 June 2019
At 7 o’clock on a Saturday morning, it was cold!
I set off after a delay of some 4 weeks fixing and upgrading things on the bike. Some of the bits I was waiting for hadn’t arrived, but I decided they weren’t essential to the success of the mission – fingers crossed!
The mission was very nearly aborted in the first kilometre! Just after I negotiated the mini-roundabout, 800m from my gate, the engine spluttered and died! I sat for a few moments, in consternation and then pushed the button. Life! Off I went.
But that wasn’t the end of it. I took my hand off the grip to fix my visor and suddenly the front end went into a wobble like a wobbly blancmange on a wobble board! WT…? I had changed the fork springs and shocks, but otherwise the bike was as it was when I rode home 4 weeks ago. The front end did feel a bit light and the back end was higher, but could that really be the reason? Now this was a serious decision; was it safe? Should I stop or should I go?
Well since I had rented my house out, the pressure was on me to go; so, go I did. “I’ll try it for 20 kms or so,” I thought. Since I’m now 380km from home, it obviously wasn’t that serious; not comforting, not desirable, but rideable till I can rectify the problem.
I did say it was cold; 30 mins after starting I was regretting my decision to leave my leather bib-and-brace behind – it was cold! The early morning sun was shining straight at me, but was giving little warmth; the mist was heavy in the lower lying areas. I was glad I had put on my neck warmer, a gift from my recently acquired sponsor, Mohammed from MOTUL Zimbabwe.
The bike was running fantastically well. The servicing and tuning I had done had made such a difference. I must be getting better at it! /:) The buzz in the right grip that had given me numb fingers before seemed to have gone; my newly diagnosed carpal tunnel syndrome wasn’t giving any trouble – yet!
By 8 o’clock it was starting to warm up, but my knees, feet and hands were still cold. I was making good time though, and thinking that Zimbabwean main roads were as good as anywhere. There were a few lumpy bits, but by and large the surface was good and potholes few – it’s a different story in town mind – and thanks to the petrol shortages, traffic was light.
I made it to the border at Nyamapanda in just over 2 hours. Here I was informed that my police clearance certificate was out of date – no exit! Fortunately, the guys at the police point were very helpful and renewed it for me – thanks for technology and internet connectivity – and I left with a one-year TEP, from a customs official who was having problems with the electrics of his Suzuki 1000 GS, that we discussed a little after he discovered I serviced my own bike.
The Mozambique side of the border was not quite as straight forward. According to the immigration boss – Mr Not-Very-Friendly-Senior-Immigration-Guy – you are only allowed one visa-on-arrival (VOA) per year, and I had got one 6 weeks earlier. Also, if I wanted a transit visa – I had said on my form I was going to Malawi, rather than stopping in Moz – I had to get it from the Embassy in Harare! “I’m calling immigration headquarters,” I was told eventually, “Wait outside!”
45 mins later I was called by Mr Friendly-Junior-Immigration-Guy and told to fill in the form for a visa. Just after this, I was chased outside again for using my phone in the building by, yep, Mr Not-Very-Friendly-Senior-Immigration-Guy. Anyway 15 minutes later I had my visa and was on my way to customs for a TIP – free of charge.
So, I was into Mozambique and headed for the next fuel station 50km away. It was a good road and apart form a photo stop, was a clear run to Changara, where I fuelled up. Then it was another 90 km to the impressive Samora Machel Bridge in Tete and my stop for the night at Villa Habsburg on the banks of the Zambezi.
I was all-in – two days planned ride in one – and was delighted when Nevisson, the duty manager, informed me he had decided that since there were no guests I could just use the bed in the room that had been allocated for me to shower in.
No camping – Hooray! :)) I parked the bike, off-loaded the main bags and collapsed onto the bed, to awake to a warm dusk 2 hours later. A tiring, but altogether satisfactory day.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 