Heading into the first country I haven’t been to before!
07 June 2019: The border procedures are straight forward. Fill in the yellow fever book, fill in arrivals card – I already have a visa, then give customs all the necessary details and get a TIP. At first this is for 30 days, but when I ask to extend it to 90 as per my visa – you never know, do you – it’s not a problem at all.
I attempt to change money and, as I’ve had such straightforward dealings to date, my guard is down. Anyway, I’m offered a rate that’s much higher than the going rate. And you know what they say – if it seems too good to be true …. Anyway suffice to say, arrogance – I thought I was too clever to be conned, stupidity – I didn’t think at all, and greed – who doesn’t want a better deal, resulted in my leaving the border having been scammed out of $100. I should have woken up as soon as they started quibbling about the rate after they had given me the agreed amount, but I didn’t and paid the price. So a bad start in Tanzania 😦
I headed on and changed money later, got my new SIM card – this only took 30 mins this time – and soon found my campsite. There were 2 roads to this place and I took the shorter. Turned out to be the right decision for once as apparently the other road is worse – not sure how that’s possible, but, there you go!
Shortly after arriving I realised I have left my bag, the one with all my documents, at the phone shop. So, it’s a quick unload and back down the rock road and to town to find it. It is sitting by the table where I left it; the kids there hadn’t even noticed it! They’re the same everywhere.
About 50 kms from the Malawi border, Bongo Community Campsite, 4kms north of Tukuyu, is run by an NGO, Kikundi cha Utali, and offers basic facilities, education and HIV/AIDS programmes and some environmental work. It has clearly seen better days, but at least, unlike so many projects set up by a well-meaning mzungu who then went home, it’s still functioning; and functioning well! My new friend, Luka, helps get me organised, goes off for some beer, and then buys me the first one; my first (of many) Kilis. Cheers!
The camp site is basic, but it’s clean, quiet and there is hot water, even if it’s a bucket shower because the hose is broken.
It is right in the middle of the village, but nobody bothers me. Luka organises dinner for me and his relief – the guys have a rota to look after people using the campsite – brings it and get a lad to light a fire, so I have my coffee sitting by a bright warm fire.
8 June 2019: Breakfast next morning is a real local affair. Not sure who they thought was coming to breakfast, but that bread would have lasted me a week.
The rest was avocado – my favourite (not) – hard boiled eggs and tea made the African way – with milk. Sipho, you’d have been very happy! 🙂 It wasn’t that bad actually.
Then it’s off down some very scenic, but dreadful roads to my next stop – The Old Farmhouse, Kisolanza.
There was nothing noteworthy about the ride to Kisolanza except for the side-winds, which required me to lean heavily to one side just to keep going straight.
There was a long stretch of roadworks circumvented by a detour on rough, unpaved road, and maybe it was this that distracted me, but when I finally noticed I was past my turning, I was 30km past it!
It was getting late and I didn’t know how far the next sleeping place was, so I had no choice but to turn back. Through the roadworks again, and by now it’s cold and getting dark. I decided not to camp and took a bed in a rondavel. Whatever else was wrong about Kisolanza, dinner was right; it was a very delicious!
Breakfast was good too and, with the added bonus; that when I complained about the lack of hot water, the owner kindly refused to charge me for the room! I was soon on my way to Mikumi.
09 June 2019: Through the roadworks for the third time, and then a straightforward run; I’m getting used now to the appalling behaviour of the bus drivers. They seem to have a suicidal wish, taking any non-existent chance to overtake just to gain 20 metres. The road is now better, but still has twin-track deep ruts. I arrive at Tan-Swiss Lodge in Mikume early enough to enjoy the excellent swimming pool.
Turned out the manager of the lodge is a biker – he rides a BMW 1200GS – and tells me there’s a group of bikers on BMs from SA expected for the evening. These turn out to be Germans on a tour organised by a company from SA – riding from Dar to JNB. Nice bikes, but, not my idea of a tour.
10 June 2019: Andy, the manager, advises me to take a gravel road short of Dar in order to miss out on the dreadful traffic going into the city. He gives me detailed directions and I decide, after experiencing the kamikaze buses and trucks heading into and out of Dar on this main road. Mistake!
Before reaching this, however I have to traverse the Mikuni National Park, where I see some wildlife and some unusual road signs.
The recommended road turns out to be deeply rutted, littered with potholes and with stretches of corrugations and some sand; the latter, thankfully, short and not too deep. Nonetheless, it takes me 2 hours to do the 20km Andy told me takes him 20 mins! Of course he is doing this on a unencumbered GS1200, not a heavily loaded road bike.
The result is that I arrive in Dar during rush-hour. Thanks partly to the directions given by Andy and partly to my GPS, I find Hailie Selassie Rd, where I’m staying, with Amanda, a friend of a friend, fairly easily. I find No 69 after asking a few people, but it turns out to be a building under construction! Check on Google; I can’t, as I have no internet connection!
Someone eventually directs me to the other end of the road, but I still can’t find it.
I ask a lady who is unloading her car and she tells me it is just down the road. Still can’t find it.
I park and start going gate to gate; I find No 75, No 77, but No 69! Now it is dark.
The guard at one house phones Amanda, but gets no response; I find a shop that sells airtime and try myself – no response; I go into a shop by a petrol station and the guys look it up on google again.
“Try that building over there,” they say, “that’s where it should be.” “It’s No 26,” I say, “I’ve been there!”
However, since that is what the omniscient Google says, I walk over and ask the guard.
“Yes,“ he says, “this is 69”.
And sure enough, there on the gate, in black digits against a dark brown background, is the number 69.
“I’m looking for Ms Duff,” I tell him.
“Amanda? Yes, she works for DFID? But she’s gone out, she’s not here!”
Frustration or what!! But at least I have found the place. I decide to go have something to eat at a nearby – actually next door almost – Lebanese restaurant and wait for Amanda. I now have airtime and having reset my phone, it’s working, so I send her a message to that effect.
Dinner is a delicious, accompanied by a very welcome beer.
I’m half way through when Amanda arrives and we finish a few more beers before heading back to her apartment, where we have another beer or two.
Bed eventually is found and I collapse having now done some 2,500 km since leaving home 10 days ago.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 