Diary

HOMECOMING - [ show/hide ] You have heard many people say how the feeling they are feeling is indescribable. I used to think that this was impossible and only a way for those challenged in linguistics to excuse themselves from actually saying anything. You have heard many people say how the feeling they are feeling is indescribable. I used to think that this was impossible and only a way for those challenged in linguistics to excuse themselves from actually saying anything.   The final day of my two year, two month and 15 day circumnavigation of the entire African continent by bicycle, a world first, actually showed me how wrong and right I was.  I had for the entire journey visualized my homecoming. The day I would see the unbelievably grandeous Table Mountain again. The day when every emotion I had felt over the last two years would be crumpled up together in the pit of my stomach. And you guessed it. When asked how I felt I said “ It is indescribable, I am really at a loss for words.”   And this even before I had officially finished. I felt as though any one or two line description would be an insult to all I had been blessed to experience. I wanted something unprompted to pour out of my heart and not out of my mouth. I wanted others to sense, not hear, what this epic adventure had meant to me.    The three weeks before had been a tough build up. My bicycle had, understandably so, had many breakdowns in the northern part of Mocambique which eventually meant that I was falling behind a schedule I had made for the final day. My hosts at the world famous Victoria and Alfred waterfront and the related media had in some cases already invested in my return. This essentially meant I had no rest days left unless I included some 150km plus days every week. The roads were non existent south of Maputo and although the road conditions were awesome in South Africa, the wind and the rain were unrelenting. Howling South Easterlies blowing straight into my face with torrential rain in Kwazulu Natal kept me at 100% effort all the time. For those who have visited our Eastern Cape Coast  will understand when I say that sometimes all the pain felt worthwhile. From the milk farmer country in the former Transkei to the Garden route in Eastern Cape I was always invigorated by what I saw. Completing 36 500km and passing through 34 countries was what one would use in a summation. But things like;  crossing the Sahara and Libyan deserts, being held by rebels in Liberia , imprisoned in Equitorial Guinea, learning French, Portuguese and Arabic, really seeing the milkyway, eating monkey, rat and bat, standing in front of the pyramids,  been awarded the freedom of the Red Sea in Egypt, meeting Prince Andrew, being loved by so many strangers, understanding Islam, eating with my hands, falling off my bicycle, feeding hyenas mouth to mouth, standing on the highest point in Africa, standing at the lowest point in Africa; is what it was really about.   I was living, exactly that, living.   I rode over the point I had started at more than two years before that Friday afternoon at 4.45pm.  I did not expect all the people waiting there to welcome me. But for once I backed myself to express how I was feeling from my heart. It was wonderful to be home but way more wonderful to see the faces of the people I love so much after such a long time.   The biggest reward, besides being home again, was the invite to meet with Mr. Nelson Mandela. A man who has made his life his legacy, a man who absolutely amazed me by the fact that he was impressed with what I had achieved. This is just the beginning for my life, my legacy. My book, with in depth sharing of my experiences in circumnavigating the African continent, will be out in South Africa in April 2006.

15 - Liberia - 29/03/04 - [ show/hide ] “I love my country and love my continent but am not willing to give my life for either .” This is what I was thinking as I peddled away from the group of Liberian rebels that had just held me hostage for over 5 hours. “I love my country and love my continent but am not willing to give my life for either .” This is what I was thinking as I peddled away from the group of Liberian rebels that had just held me hostage for over 5 hours. I can say without reservation that this day, without peer, has to be described as the worst of my life . This experience was preceded though by warnings from UN staff I had met in Ivory coast that there was still major conflict in the eastern part of Liberia. I did heed their caution but had made a personal commitment . A commitment to complete what I had set out to do , come what may. Entering Liberia was strange in itself as the border was not manned by any Ivorians officials, only Liberian ‘officials’ who later turned out to be part of this same rebel group that took me captive. This rebel group goes by the name M.O.D.E.L. rebels and were the once loyal followers of Charles Taylor. Incidentally whom I had mentioned in a previous article on Nigeria .  After having me literally strip searched by these unofficial officials I headed for my first town in Liberia , Toe Town . Here I met further members of the same group who were quite polite actually. Asking many question about journalism as they thought I was a journalist of sorts . They truly believed that that could be the only reason someone would venture out there , so I just played along. From there I headed for and reached the demolished town of Tappita and spent the night in the  Red cross’ temporary camp. I awoke the following morning unaware of what lay 15 km ahead. I was aiming for Ganta , which is a northern town bordering Guinea. The road is a dry dusty one , littered with gun shells and car wrecks that have been shot to pieces . The villages along the way were either  small  or deserted and seemed no more threatening that any other I had passed through . On entering this specific village I could with a mere glance notice a gathering of young men on the right hand side of the road. They were also not in a sober state and started calling for me to stop . I replied to them that I would return later to chat with them , which was not entirely the truth, I guess. They did not take well to my suggestion and some started chasing me . I unfortunately had a hill and fully laden bicycle to contend with so could not outride them. I decided to stop and rather negotiate a peaceful thoroughfare. They were a band of youths numbering about 20  and were clearly under the influence of  drugs  They decided rather to aggressively interrogate me for 5 hours where they threatened to imprison and kill me. I was scared ! My legs were quivering  at one point during their search of my baggage.  My break through though came thanks to our President , Thabo Mbeki. One of the older boys found an African Magazine with Thabo’s picture on . He  smiled and said that he had seen this man before. I explained who he was and struck the only real repore of my whole interrogation . This proved the vital moment as he was the one who out of the blue said to me “Go before we kill you”  I didn’t need a second invitation and hastily packed my remaining belongings that were strewn across the floor of this dingy and dark little cell.  The items of food on the table I left as gifts. They even had the audacity to gather outside the building entrance and wave me goodbye . Like an old friend seeing of another. One woman who had now joined the crowd even asked me to take a photograph. I slowly made my way up the hill out of the village only to glance back once to quietly voice my opinion of them. I stress quietly ! Through this article I could never hope to explain the experience in full detail but one thing it did do was clear up a couple of issues in my mind and in my life. I , in trying to find safety and support , met some people from the UNHCR. The UN refugee agency who worldwide look after more than 20 million people who have been displaced by war. I personally cycled through one town with nearly 40 000 refugees in .When in Sierra Leone I visited an amputee camp ,which in itself proved to be a highly emotional visit for me. The people were aware of what I had done thus far and applauded my entrance and exit to the venue. The amputee camp not only showed me how brutal humans can be but more so how bravery and courage dominate the human spirit  . Hope to publish some pictures soon.       In Freetown I co-incidentally  ran into my old major in the army ,. Julius Lloyd . He really looked after me, I think in some way making up for all the extra push ups he made me do . I have a renewed energy and outlook on my trip . I am privileged to be in my position , having the ability to make this journey a success. I am having an adventure of my life. But as I said I’m not willing to give my life for it. The usual special thank you to my support base that is growing day by day . I’ve been receiving emails from far off places and have really needed them . Especially considering my experiences in this the very ,very , wild , wild west ! END

20 - Mauritania - 24-05-2004 - [ show/hide ] I had always hoped my effort in the AFRICA365 PROJECT would provide a couple of surprises and also hopefully open some doors of opportunity for me. I had always hoped my effort in the AFRICA365 PROJECT would provide a couple of surprises and also hopefully open some doors of opportunity for me. These doors were certainly opened wide in the last three weeks.  I temporarily exchanged the desert, with her camels and her sand storms for the bright lights of London. This was all possible thanks to a sponsored airline ticket out of Casablanca in Morocco, so I could attend our country’s 10 year democracy celebrations.  Most people would assume that it was at this point that my 7 months of wild adventure came to a temporary pause. To the contrary actually, adventure and incidence followed me like a shadow.   Here are a couple of extracts of my London visit,   With my permanent longing for adventure I had to think of something that would entertain me while on the way to London. I arrived at London Heathrow planning to look rather Arabic. I decided to investigate in person the attitude of a western society towards the perceived radical Arabic Muslim.  Sporting a longish beard and combined with a caftan outfit you would understand why I could easily be mistaken as an Arab. To be honest I was rather nervous initially but was only treated with kindness and professionalism during my entire customs procedure at Heathrow. The strange thing though was that the only time I had raised any sort of suspicion was when I mentioned I had cycled from South Africa. The custom official’s stamp was about 1cm from allowing me entry to Great Britain. The guy after hearing my claim slowly raised his eyebrows, stared me firmly in the eyes and said in true cockney style “Whhhad?” He also returned the stamp back to its comfortable resting place on the ink pad. My mind was now racing!  Do I try and shrug off his amazement or do I pull out all the proof to substantiate my claim? It eventually meant me having to take out photos etc. to put him at ease. I guess a mad man cycling from SA to London on Africa’s west coast is considered a higher risk than any other possible threat.   Attending the SA democracy celebrations on Trafalgar square was awesome. Seeing thousands of other South Africans celebrating the real S.A, the SA with a brighter future than it has ever had. It made me also reflect on the fact that my whole journey would have been impossible pre 1994. At that time I was a young naive 19 year old still unable to digest the bigger picture and the possibilities of change. Unable to comprehend the fact that as a South African I was not welcome in most of the Africa at that time. Standing in the chilly London drizzle looking down at Trafalgar square I could almost feel the heat of the passion that my countrymen carry with them. It was good.   The next incident is quite extraordinary considering I have come nearly 17 000km through the toughest parts of Africa without a major scratch. For those of you who know London I was walking down Regent st towards Piccadilly circus. This is one of the busiest streets within the heart of London and soon had myself walking in dense pedestrian traffic. In true SA gentlemanly style I was making way wherever possible for the old ladies and their shopping carts. This time my manners did not pay off, on stepping half a meter into the road to allow another lady past me, I was hit from behind by a double decker bus. I flew forward in the upright position for about 2 meters and fortunately landed on my feet. A sympathetic crowd formed briefly and even a lady alongside me started crying. The bus also came to an immediate stop but I ushered the driver on, probably due to embarrassment. A painful neck, grazed fingers and bruised ego were not a bad exchange for the ‘once in a lifetime thrill’ of been bumped by a double decker bus in London, I think.   While on the topic of London transportation I must mention that I am totally impressed with the London Underground. Unlike 99% of all the cities inhabitants who are too spoilt for their own good I believe the system to be of the most efficient I have ever seen. One early evening I fell asleep on a tube heading north. I needed only to go 4 stops but found myself been gently woken up 15 stops and an hour later by a railways staff member on the other side of London. It turned out to be a long evening finding my way back.   But now I want to tell you how I came to meet and chat with His Royal Highness Prince Andrew. While in London I used the opportunity to look up a man I had been told about while in Accra and Dakar. His name is Peter Titchener, a typical English gentleman who runs an international shipping network agency, Multiport.  He took to me and my adventure without hesitation; I think this is mainly thanks to his own adventurous spirit. He had as a young guy done a once famous backpackers route, still known today as the hippy trail. I met with him one afternoon at his offices in the Greenwich area and furiously chatted away about both our experiences. The next day, while preparing to send him a thank-you email I received an email from him inviting me to an Awards dinner. This awards dinner is like the Oscars of the shipping industry and has a special guest of honor to commemorate the occasion. Prince Andrew happened to be the guest this year. With the awards ceremony been extremely formal the chances of any of the 800 plus high profile guests getting to meet the Prince are very slim. Peter nonetheless also let me know that he was in contact with the palace and had requested for me to meet with His Royal Highness.  I personally saw the opportunity of a decent meal as the initial highlight and put no expectations on meeting him. What a shock when I had a call the next morning from Peter to inform me that the palace had welcomed the request and I would be part of the line-up to meet the Prince. Wow!  Needless to say I was extremely exited and could not wait to go . I must have looked an interesting site, dressed in a tuxedo and donning a beatles’ hairstyle. Prince Andrew firstly just shook my hand and asked how I was, as he did with everybody. But when Peter, who was next to me, told him why I was there the Prince awoke out of his slumber. He thought I was mad and wanted to know why I was doing this. We unfortunately didn’t get time to chat about more important things such as Fergie etc.   It was sad saying farewell to London but I have part two of the adventure of my lifetime to complete. And quite frankly I miss you guys back home.   Foul camel breath and hot desert winds await me.   Au revoir

20 - Mauritania Desert - 6-06-2004 - [ show/hide ] I am relieved to back in the saddle after nearly a 4 week break in London. 20 - Mauritania Desert - 6-06 I am relieved to back in the saddle after nearly a 4 week break in London . Definitely a bit softer and over fed if you are judging according to my new ‘africa365’ scale of difficulty.   But the bitter isn’t the bitter without the sweet . This I have learnt first hand . I had left my bike in trusted hands but after subsequent inspection found some items missing . With my lack of French and Arabic skills any investigation would have proved fruitless. The search for video tapes would have probably yielded a secondhand pair of undies and a cork screw.   My first kilometer back on the road was greeted with a creaky knee and an unwelcome puncture. Being off my expected schedule by approximately 6 weeks now , I  have to do my North African leg in the middle of their summer and strong wind season.  The bitter ! Crossing the border into Mauritania is when I realized the sizeable task ahead of me. It may be extremely flat but the strong winds only blow in one direction . Directly from the front , always. My bike mounted SA flag has never waved so briskly for so long .   I found the people in The Islamic Republic of Mauritania rather unfriendly from the word go . The border officials ignored me initially and only once everybody else had passed through did they lead me into the immigration office. The special attention I was receiving in this now deserted office , I soon realized, was for the sole purpose of extorting a small ‘cadeau’ or gift out of me.  They found many things wrong with my visa and other paperwork.  All of which was unfounded as I’ve learned the value of double checking my visa documents long before I reach the border. Eventually , out of fatigue I think , they stamped my passport without money changing hands . Even though it  was late in the afternoon , about 5pm (7pm SA time), I decided to do a couple of kilometers before sunset . With two and a half hours of true commitment later I could only show 17 km for my efforts. The wind was fierce and unrelenting. I fortunately found a safe place to pitch my tent . Right behind the ‘middle of nowhere’ customs office.   Sadly enough, I will also remember this day as the day my beautiful, big, bold boxer, Murphy had to be put down. I loved him so much and just wanted to see him one more time. I am so grateful to my neighbours in Gordon’s Bay, Robin and Hazel who assisted my girlfriend in taking him to and from the vet. And also for burying him in my back yard. The realization hit me how emotional things like this affect my motivation. I have not been that down in motivation the entire 8 months on the road. The bitter .   The unfriendliness of the Mauritanians only added to my subdued mood. Their attitude to any westerner is probably a reflection of the troubled political environment the world finds itself in. The unfounded, intense hate shown by some, especially the young is shocking. Passing a 3 - 4 house settlement just south of Nouakchott, a young girl of about 12 years started throwing stones at me. She was shouting violently and expressed extreme rage. It seemed almost as though she were possessed by another force. It was a scary experience, the other five or six children behind her, were supporting her, although to a lesser degree.   I hope I never have to repair a puncture in this environment. That will be a story to tell! Most other Mauritanians would not even bother returning a greeting or a smile . These experiences have helped me appreciate , even more , the value of our South African constitution . The informal daily education we receive regarding other cultures is something unique and special.  I guess that tolerance , though relative, is a luxury we as South Africans take for granted.   I have had to take a strange route to morocco . If  you pull out your atlais and study Mauritania you will notice the capital Nouakchott on the southern coast . Two options were available . Going directly north to Nouadhibou and attempting a road that is incomplete and has claimed 3 foreign lives this year. They were not on bicycles !  Or going north east to Atar, then onto Choum. From Choum I take the worlds longest train , 2.5km long, horizontally across to Nouadhibou.. This has proved to be the longer route, but the awesome scenery of endless  mountains of golden sand all worth it .   It was also the most likely route to produce a living result. And living is what I plan on doing.   For the regular site visitors please mail any suggestions to the webmaster for so he can make necessary changes. Lastly a big pat on the back for us on winning the 2010 World cup bid. The sweet ! People are probably selling SA 2010 world cup souvenirs on Greenmarket already.

21 - Morocco - 06-07-2004 - [ show/hide ] This vision is a bit hazey at the moment. 21 - Morocco - 06-07-2004    While cycling I “ve had this regular vision of me arriving in Cape Town to the streets lined with people . Children and their parents in admiration and pride of their fellow South Africans’ feat . It motivates me .    This vision is a bit hazey at the moment.   The beauty of this article I write for the Cape Times is that you , the reader,  are actually following the reality of my attempt. Not a glamorised version of my adventure such as you are used to on the Survivor series etc. But  THE REAL THING   Since my liberian experience Ive felt daily more and more hesitant of people . Ive shyed away from making over friendly contact with strangers. This considering I have been robbed three times since Dakar . And all of them “were” my buddies. It actually starts making everyday routine very difficult for me.  I dont have a support crew so have to perk myself up after 100 + km each day to prepare my nights rest and safety. A few nights ago I had just completed a 122km day through some tough mountain terain and arrived in a medium sized town. I asked someone to show me a cheap hotel. Cheap being 25dh which is about R18 per night . Usually these type of places are quite seedy and wouldnt be first date venues. I was directed to a little dark place, confirmed the price and was shown to one of the rooms.The room, sporting the customary boat hollow shaped bed was satisfactory so I excepted . Now for the interesting part .  I need to explain to him ; the manager ; that I want to take my bicycle up the steep narrow stairs and put it in the room with me . He firstly does not understand me ; then does not understand Why I want to do this. He then becomes agitated because I insinuated he could be a thief. He then decides to ask me for my passport as I start the laborious task of undoing my luggage from the bike. I comply and start assisting in completing the motel registration form. Some items on their form they did not understand but seemed more frustrated when I was unable to either. A group of inquisitive people then start interfering . Even some now wanting to verify the validity of my passport.  Not to end the circus too early the manager ; ringmaster ; asks me to transfer the same info into his own record book. I do not refuse but ask him why he cannot do it himself .  He has all the info already !. You can understand , I was tired and dirty, and needed to have my cold shower and crawl into my bug infested bed.   The humerous angle though is opening my door in the morning and seeing a very patient policemen sitting outside my door. He was there, as he explained to me , just to check over my papers and secure my safety . Obviously the frustration last night led to one of the parties present notifying the police about this dodgy character on his bicycle.   The bulk of my problems relate directly to my severe lack of finance. I have nearly depleted a considerable personal investment into Africa365 and continuously have snowballing costs to content with. My saving grace to date has been Namibian Breweries. Without them I would have never got this far.  What amazes me is that every cent I have recieved in support and sponsorship has come from a non South African company or person. I have only one theme Ive carried through-out my trip , that of being Proudly South African. I expected a energetic marketing team to latch onto the adventure and its possibilities. But none has. It s a shame.   Today I will pedal harder and further . I hope somebody back home responds as well.   Extra finance wont give me a boerewors roll everynight or bring my girlfriend over for week-ends. But it will make my vision clear and bright just like the colours on our country’s flag.

21 - Morocco - 23-07-2004 - [ show/hide ] I am going to miss Morocco . I am going to miss Morocco .  Strangely enough it was so far the longest I have spent in any country considering day to mileage ratio. If I am not mistaken it is the longest country i will pass through . That is if you include the politically disputed Western Sahara region. Mocambique is a close second with also approxamately 2500 km of road to cover. It will not take a genius to understand that doing the homeward bound Mocambiquen leg will just “seem” easier .   Morocco has a lot to offer and I was priveledged , once again , to see her at 20 km/p/h. The people are largely friendly , speak some English and are geared to basic tourism etiquete.  I saw and slept along a coastline i sincerely want to visit again , in a car. Also the ancient ground you walk on and buildings you drink a cup of ciffee in still amaze me. The medina part of all the coastal cities ; a huge wall surrounding the original city ; are sometimes breathtaking in size and beauty.  The sun seems to add a golden glow and postcard feel  to everything you look at.   Morocco also delivered the furtherest distance Africa365 has completed in one day. A whopping 215 hard earned KM. I must add though that it was generally flat with a gentle breaze from behind most of the 215km. Still !   I had many , many cold nights in the desert and will remember one specifically. I had put up my tent and secured eveything that needed securing in the gale force wind . Once inside the tent i realised that i had not brought my sleeping bag in. Not wanting to go out again I decided that it was not that cold and that my small plastic tarpualin would suffice as emergency blanket. Well , what a night !. Tossing and turning on those rocks , the shivering keeping me awake and my stubborn attitude not admitting defeat . That is how it went till 5am , whereupon I decided to collect my sleeping bag for an hour or two’s warmth. I was exhausted by now and knew i had an important days cycling ahead of me. But fortunately fell asleep in tranquil bliss. I awoke , checked my watch and could hardly correlate the way I was feeling to the exact time I had really slept. I had slept for two hours but it felt as though I had had a massage the night before , a long hot bath and had been tucked into a soft, kings size bed. It made me think of that advert about a bed giving you two extra hours sleep per night. Hey , they should try my sleeping bag !   Frustration in Morocco has just been due to the change of route . Having to go to Algeria via Spain . More visas , more costs and more time away from from my South Africa. Another thing which made me smile and feel good was some people’s response to the previous article. Janine from Nagels Transport was already putting some desperately needed funds into my account before the ink had dried on her copy of the Cape Times. Thanks also to the others who have also helped .   Next time you hear from me I will have crossed the mediteranean twice  ,  that on my circumnavigation of Africa.   Who would have thought. ?

23 - Algeria - 17-08-2004 - [ show/hide ] Salaam aleikum South Africa. Salaam aleikum South Africa. These last two weeks have to be the most action packed Ive experienced thus far , I’m actually out of breath thinking about it.   I entered Algeria , had a “small deportation” , crossed the mediteranean twice , was assaulted by a drunk spanish policeman , crossed the greenwich meridien and my halfway mark . Phew ! Add 50 ° celcius temperatures and maniac drivers on narrow roads and you will have even the most hardened adventurer giving himself a pat on the back.   My entry into Algeria initially could not be termed the the most “official”. So after a pleasant chat to some police in Algeria they agreed to deport me , rather entering through an official Spanish border. The border between Morocco and Algeria was open according to media reports but in reality was not.   Spain looks very much like South Africa with the coast between Algeciras and Almeria as beautiful as the Garden Route. In South Africa the difference being you currently have less chance of assualt by a drunk policeman . My experience went roughly along these lines. A policeman who was on duty in the port wanted me to remove my bicycle from the embarquement building . Initially I could not understand him but people in the vicinity assisted in translating the Spanish into French for my benefit. But a little too late because by now the officer had his chest pressed against mine and spewing his commands and alchohol breath at me with an elevated level of excitement. I was about to leave when the officer’s partner arrived to help . I asked the partner to please call the head of the port so I could chat to him. This initially made the innebriated officer nervous only for him to later follow me outside and do a karate style kick into me and my 18 000 km old bicycle. Shame on him. Read the full version of events on my website .  Nonetheless , I did lay a charge  , met a wonderful Spanish doctor at the public hospital and the friendly staff at the Almeria tourism office.   The crossing of the Mediteranean will be etched in my mind forever. Many of you have probably stood at Cape Point and actually visualised where you physicaly were in the world at that time. When I was watching Tangier drift away along with the sunset I could actually see Europe and Africa with a 180° swivel of my head. I could also see the westerly point where Africa goes south. Seeing the rock of Gibraltar that I had only heard about and seen in pictures was also amazing.   Having crossed the equator I had now specifically looked forward to cross it’s horizontal counterpart , the Greenwich Meridien. No fireworks but good for me to stand there and take another moment to realise what I am achieving. The Greenwich is roughly the halfway point ; 18 000km ; and for me signifies the road homewards . For once I’ll be going homewards instead of  spending hours each day cycling  away from her.   I must give a special mention to the Algerian drivers who are obviously extreme F1 fans . Irrespective of the size of the vehicle or its contents. And then also able to keep at least two wheels on the narrow roads , at all times , is quite a priveledge to witness from my exclusive vantage point . Heart pounding stuff I must admit. Besides all the challenges , the negative perception of Algerians are unfounded and I believe my journey through the country will be a memorable one .   In-Shallah

23 - Algeria - 01-09-2004 - [ show/hide ] Special People Well , It’s official . Angola does not hold the top spot any longer. Algeria has taken it by a whisker. But to hold the coveted position for 34 weeks is nothing to sneaze at. Nothing even came close to toppling Angola along the entire west african coast. It wasn’t until about midway through Algeria when I could feel that this country is something special. To be more specific the people have been special. But isn’t that really what makes a country , It’s people?   From Ghazaouet when the port chief welcomed me like the proverbial prodigal son to Nadir in Constantine literally spending his last 200 dinars to buy me a pizza. And the same Nadir also forced me to eat in front of him so it could bring him a little more satisfaction . Cruelty in my books to eat in front of hungry people. If  I started listing all the kind deeds done for me by the Algerian people I would have to hijack the entire Friday paper.  But it just goes to prove the old saying that there is more pleasure in giving than there is in recieving. Algerians on the whole were very surprized to see me . Not because they have never seen a tourist but rather that they are acutely aware of their terrorist image abroad. They as individuals have taken it upon themselves to alter this scary image , not sit back and leave it to politicians in crinckly suits . They are doing a good job. The unfriendliest person in Algeria would win the friendliest person in Mauritania hands down.   Algeria was also not shy in offering her fair share of mountains. Every day brought its quota of  vertical accent, sometimes reaching into low lying clouds. The ensuing downhills were also breathtaking in their own right . Decending between mountain ranges it almost felt as though I was aiming for the earths molten core . The afternoon tempratures of +/- 45° added to this theory.   One of my e-mail supporters made me smile and frown . He said that I had cracked the “after dinner discussion” top ten list . “I can come home now “ I thought  “I’ve achieved what I needed to.” Actually what this email led onto had me pondering many things. The tragedy of our brave South Africans who have attempted to circumnavigate the earth via micro light. My condolences go to those families who have lost some very special people and to the  remaining guy who has lost two dear friends.  My advice to him is, now more than ever , to follow his heart .  He is doubting whether it was all worth it . Of course it was ! Those partners of his believed in what they were trying to achieve . He owes it to them to finish this and come home to tell us about it. I myself know what it means to risk what I am not willing to risk. If that means anything to anybody.   I know his parents will not agree with me.   Thanks to the SA guys I met in Oron and Algiers , it was good to ‘praat die taal n bietjie.’ That reminds me , I met a guy, Hamid, in the small town of Chelghoum El Aid who had stayed in Valhalla park for a year and a half . He asked me to pass on his regards to all those who can remember him. Anything I can do to keep bringing Africa closer together. And to those who tried to teach him some Afrikaans , ‘ You’re all lousy teachers ‘ I went through all the swear words I could think of and he did not know 1.

24 - Tunisia - 19-09-2004 - [ show/hide ] Russell the mouse I had a friend join me for about 8 hours on Sunday while aiming for the Libyan border from Tunis . Although I sort-of  kidnapped him , it certainly was not the situation from the outset. His name was Russell and he is a Tunisian field mouse.   Russell was huddled in a little ball , shivering uncontrollably in the pouring rain and chilling wind . He was also perilously close to passing traffic and probably in the back of his little mind he understands what I did for him. Nonetheless he enjoyed the warmth inside my jacket pocket and the full stomach that came from sharing my food. He seemed to enjoy the greasy rag I had used as a towel to dry him with initially and then subsequently as his bed. Approximately 30km after I had ‘saved’ him the two of us stopped at a garage for a snack . We ate outside in the parking area as I didn’t think the other customers would enjoy sharing the eating area with a rodent. This is where Russell made his first getaway. He jumped from my lap with an impressive leap. This had me running after him in a  bent over position , cycling shoes clicking away like a tap dancer with me every now and then lunging unsuccessfully to scoop him from the ground. This minute or two event  drew a group of onlookers most political rallies would be proud of . I put this embarrassment I had suffered down as the mandatory relationship building phase . Although very one sided currently , I remained committed (desperate) to make a new friend. We continued in the rain , me still getting soaked and Russell now cosy in his new apartment I had provided.  Russell and I then stopped 25 km later for a drink of water . While I was having my drink Russell sat in my free hand wrapped in his cloth. Suddenly he decided again that he had had enough of my generosity and made a concerted effort to ‘escape’. This time , on his first leap, I managed to catch him mid-air and hold him more firmly than before. Russell then, without much hesitation , bit me and leaped clear of my reach. He first ran parallel to the traffic and then turned right into the grass area. Once again, I decided that the bite was part of the complexities in building a relationship. I followed him into the muddy grass area . Here I did the same ‘catch me if you can ‘ dance as before . Just the tapping sound was replaced by squelch of the mud under my tired shoes. Russell eventually got his freedom. But I am worried about him. He doesn’t even know anybody in that area  . It could turn out to be a very lonely move on his part. Good luck Russell.   Many more serious things happened on this section of my African circumnavigation .  The moment of realisation that I had cycled from Africa’s most southern city to it’s Northern counterpart felt good. I was actually proud of myself.  I also had the privilege in seeing the 1800 year old El Jem amphitheatre . Exactly what I imagine the coliseum in Rome to look like. I enjoy standing in places that evoke this awe from me and then reminding myself that I cycled 19 000 km from South Africa to see this. It adds to the occasion . But alone is second prize . I wish I had a friend to share some of these moments with.   Thanks Russell

25 - Libya - 05-10-2004 - [ show/hide ] Gadhaffi's Land I've made it to the "great leader's" land.  The land of the famous green book. The land that saw the "great revolution". Where life is hard but at least the petrol is cheap. I have made it to Libya . The land of Moamar Gadhaffi .   The Libyan foreign affairs in Tripoli first had to do a security check on me before issuing me with a visa.  This took two and a half weeks of waiting in the smallest of the  Maghreb countries . Very frustrating when all I am trying to do is get home as quickly as possible. I wonder though what the security screening for a guy on a bicycle all the way from South Africa would entail. I mean , what type of questions arise in a meeting when discussing me . Do they convince each other that this cyclist could  be part of one grand ingenious plot that may put Libya at risk . Not too ingenious in my mind if the country makes their  spy travel 20 000 km by bicycle.  Having made it without too much trouble across the border at Ras Ajdir  I reached Tripoli two days later.  Welcomed by the South African Embassy just outside the capital was a welcome sight . I had heard about them and their inspirational chief , Ambassador Ebrahim Saley .  I rested here for one day and had the privilege of addressing the foreign Ambassadorial contingent that were based in Tripoli. This happened at a  function specifically held as a farewell to the Zimbabwean and Algerian Ambassadors. I had lengthy discussions with many of the coutries' representatives including a protracted one with the Zimbabwean Ambassador regarding the situation in his land. The conversation was a little one sided though . I sincerely entered Libya believing it was going to be the surprise of Algeria all over again . But this was not to be . Approximately 45 km outside of the city while on the bike a bag of dates was thrown at me from a passing taxi's window. It hit my back with such  force knocking my wind out. Either the word had spread from South Africa how much I love dates or these guys just didn't like me .  I did see them though entering the Mosque parking lot , disappearing onto the large crowd going for lunch time prayers . Ironic . A lot more than this has taken place , including been refused access to a town because Mr Ghadhaffi had come to visit. Knowing that I still have 1000 km left in this  country, I am fearful that even the little I have shared here could create a security concern for me . And I don't easily become paranoid. I hope it is sun stroke making me feel like this.  A highlight though was the visit I took to the 2000 year old Roman city of Leptus Magna. They say only 25% is visible , this being since the visiting archeologists were forced to leave after the great revolution. It is a truly awesome sight and it can only be described as a travesty that not more is done to preserve it.   Shame . I'm not looking for excuses to stay longer . As I feel now they can keep their oil and their green book.  I'll be heading East as fast as my bike can go.

26 - Egypt - 26/10/2004 - [ show/hide ] The Pyramids blew my mind away The Pyramids blew my mind away. Before I left South Africa , I said to myself that the one big highlight for me on this entire trip will be the moment these 4 500 year old pyramids come into site .Considering I've committed to cycling the entire 21 000 km of the west / north African coast to get here has made that feeling all the more rewarding. They seem to stand there, oblivious of their magnitude and there beauty.  Similar to the way you would expect a super model will carry herself in a singles bar. The pyramids border on arrogance.   The pyramids are made up of approximately 2 .3 million blocks of predominantly sandstone weighing in at an average of 2.5 tons each. It is estimated that some of the bigger blocks even weigh in the region of 70 tons. People have suggested the figures of 100 000 skilled  workmen over a 20 year period that put the Pyramid of Khufu-Cheops , the biggest of the three Giza Pyramids , together. That wage clerk must have dreaded Fridays.   The crew from Carte Blanche came through to Cairo to meet with me and do a story of my adventure thus far .They met me on the Cairo desert road , about 10 km from where the pyramids actually come into sight. I think they were able to get footage of my reaction to these icons of Egyptian culture. They spent a couple of days with me and hopefully left with enough information to share with you back home in early November. They have been by far the most professional television crew I've met along route and I felt extremely privileged for them to be doing a story on my humble efforts. I am proudly South African because of many things, seeing these guys 'South African perfection' in action is one of those things.   Going through the border of Libya into Egypt was a relief for me. I did not enjoy Libya.   Not that that I disliked Libya, but rather that I did not enjoy it .There is a difference.  I was hoping for a change in scenery but that was not to be. It remained desert scenery for another 500 km, with the intervals of beautiful Marsa Matruh and majestic Alexandria in-between. Alexandria being the home of the legendary Alexander the great for the latter part of the 3rd century.  I managed to make the trip to the Museum there and got a decent glimpse of the famous Rosetta stone.   The Islamic holy month of Ramadan has also coincided with my arrival in Egypt. This has forced me to source alternative daytime sustenance along route. Cairo is Africa's biggest and most populated city. It houses 16 million people who are spread along the river Nile, the river in which Moses was said to have been found in the bulrushes. The wealthy and the poor of Egypt literally rub shoulders on a daily basis in the narrow alley ways of central Cairo. The city, as the cliché goes, oozes charm. Charm caked in dirt and stench, but charming none the less. The city is also splattered, as with most other North African countries' capitals, with giant billboards of their President. Egypt has an Al Pacino look-alike in Mr. Hosny Moubarak who seems to have that Godfather grin down to a tee.   I will, after obtaining some Visas, head South along the Nile towards Sudan and Somalia. I only have ten countries and 14 500 km left to do before I taste a genuine boerewors roll again , smell the sweetest air in the world and shake hands properly for a change.

26 - Egypt - 09/11/2004 - [ show/hide ] South Africa You're beautiful South Africa  :  You're beautiful.  Thank-you for all the support you have given me after seeing the Carte Blanche TV program.  I have not even seen that footage so can't wait to get a glimpse. Just reading the transcript is amazing enough and brings back many memories. It's strange how your mind can become so powerful and actually relegate extremely disturbing things to the darker corners of your mind. I specifically think of how it felt to talk about my Liberian experience again. Being interviewed and asked to speak about it again was just scratching the surface. I spent further time alone thinking about it. I remember the intense memories of that day kept me awake some nights, even up to and as far as Mauritania. The emotion I had experienced that day was beyond fear, because fear is what I felt in Equatorial Guinea while sitting in the police cells.. How do you describe a feeling that forces you to say to yourself   "Can you believe it? , today the 26th February is the day I die"  That stands out for me .    But still I ride on.   Many of you, in your mails jokingly refer to the fact that I must be a bit looney. To be entirely honest with you, when I pause for a minute and really think about it , I agree with you.  But I don't indulge in those type of thinking exercises anymore. They are not beneficial to my greater cause. I have too many other things to think about.    'Ignorance is bliss' as they say.   I have successfully obtained the Sudanese and Eritrean visas and will probably apply for the Ethiopian and Djiboutian visas in Eritrea.  My bicycle has had a face lift, non surgical I might add. She looks great again and I can see the spring in her step every time we set off in the morning. I'm not joking now when I say to you that I think I've built up some sort of 'relationship' with her. She got it all; she's beautiful, has a great body, likes the outdoors, isn't too materialistic and has a quiet disposition to match. Thanks to the guys at Shoprite in Cairo who I accidentally bumped into at the SA embassy. They made sure I was in touch with the correct people. With pride I spent the remainder of my stay in Cairo directing every Egyptian I met to the best supermarket in their city.   I have sort of taken a fancy to this shisha pipe culture that every Egyptian is deeply entrenched in. We refer to it as a hubbly bubbly back home and usually mentally link it to some illegal activity. I had a favorite coffee shop I went to every day and every night in Cairo.  It's name is Ash Shams and was comfortably placed as the dominating feature in a narrowing alley. The decoration is mainly of earth colored murals depicting daily Egyptian life. These murals covered every last inch of the walls and the ceilings.  I became good friends with an Egyptian man who worked there as a waiter. Mr. Sherief Abd Al Rahmin was the shortened version of this gentle Egyptians name.  I would come around the corner, usually frustrated at having to wait in the chaos of the embassies I'd just visited, and see him smiling as usual ready with my cup of mint tea.  Then with my lack of Arabic skills and his limited English we would 'discuss' life. Usually when people at these places hear about my journey and have visited my website. It seems I am elevated rather quickly to a VIP status.      I never once complained.   By the way, a guy in London who has followed my trip closely wrote a song recently about me and the friend I had for one day. The song is called 'Russell the Mouse' I believe he is performing it live this weekend at a club in London.   Amazing!

26 - Egypt - 23/11/2004 - [ show/hide ] Red Sea - Moses land With my bicycle at last showing some signs of suffering has oddly enough proven to be a bit of an ego boost for me . At last she is also admitting that what she and I tackled over more than one year ago and 22 000 km later is tough. I was starting to take it personally that she was looking in better shape than I was feeling.   It has been a beautiful , calm and wind assisted 1000km I have done out of Cairo. I changed my original plan of following the Nile down to Sudan to rather hug the coast along the Red Sea. And another special experience it was to glance to my left every few seconds and see the towering mountains of Sinai across the Red Seas' waters. That’s where Moses went up and collected the ten commandments. The ten commandments many people today are failing to adhere to . It also, as many of you know is the beginning ( depending where you come from) of the Asian continent. I was not going to give up the opportunity of testing out these world famous waters and went for a snorkeling swim at a resort along route. The water is warm , even though it is winter up here, and is the clearest emerald green water I've ever seen.  The resort did have snorkeling gear for hire but didnt not fall within my adventurers' budget . This did not deter me though , I reverted to the natural method we used to employ as children . I don’t know how many of you have done the bubble mask method .Where you seal your forehead with your hands and then blow air into this seal area to create a natural underwater mask  . I have not perfected the seal so it meant my viewing time was always limited to a few seconds . I did get a glimpse of few very beautiful fish and colourfull underwater plants.  I think I received the odd look from some of the tourists there on holiday .You can just imagine  this bearded guy squeezing his hands against his head and then blowing bubbles as he went down into the water. The children thought I was amusing though .   In a town called Safaga I met a really interesting guy.Faisal Negm El-Din . He shared many stories with me but the most fascinating of these I must share with you. Now he is an oldish guy , around 60 or so and the manger of a hotel in the town. He loves cycling but is not as cycling active as he used to be. Not because of age but because if an accident he had. He was doing a mountain pass ride one afternoon , moving quite fast through a downhill section when without any warning a small boy appeared in front of him . Not wanting to hurt the boy he jumped from his bike and crashed into the rock face alongside the path. He was taken straight to the hospital in the town to have his painful shin x-rayed. Before the x-ray the doctor examining him confirmed, to his relief,  that at worst it would be a small fracture.  But alas , as they were positioning him on the x-ray table the entire x-ray room mounting unhinged and came down on THE  fractured body part. Not able to complete the x-rays there, he was flown to Germany , (where he had insurance) . Here they completed the tests and the surgery ,  yes surgery ! Including 24 metal pins in his shin which allow him to walk again today. I must add that Faisal was not offended that I laughed throughout his entire story .   I've met some great people on this trip and hold thumbs each day that I don’t forget any of them. It sometimes makes me miss home even more because I know how rich our country is with colourful characters.   For all those who have mailed me in the last week or so please don’t stop. Email is scarce and I will reply to everyone as soon as possible. Next time I will write from the country which seems to be, after Iraq , the flavour of the month . The peoples republic of Sudan

27 - Sudan - 04/01/2005 - [ show/hide ] Xmas in Sudan Santa missed the town of Atbara in Sudan this year . I am sure about this because my Stocking was still empty when I woke up. Although the fact that I did not write to him this year could have played a part.  Some of my friends mailed me and said he had apparently visited my place in South Africa. Consolation I guess.   I slept at the Atbara train station the night before Christmas and had some spectacular views of the sky and its energetic shooting star population. It was actually enjoyable , apart from the unconventional wake up call of the train arriving at 6am .  Usually I am able to work external noises and sounds into my dreams , but this horn was too big a star for my humble R.E.M . sessions. I will remember that night and all that it entailed . Although not conventionally spectacular it re-affirmed my belief that this journey will in a worst case scenario pack my brain with unforgettable memories.   Because I was not able to pass through the Red Sea border into Sudan, I had to take the ferry to Wade Halfa and then via Atbara back to the point where I was sent back. Keeping the circumnavigation hopes alive. I , while on this freezing and uncomfortable ferry trip decided that I would make an effort to get my remaining visas in Khartoum , Sudan's capital. I left my bicycle in Atbara to make my transport costs to Khartoum cheaper and easier. I arrived a uncharacteristically unenthusiastic man. I should have been excited at the prospect of seeing place where the two niles meet . Also having a unique opportunity of chatting to locals about the situation in there country should have had me upbeat.  I routinely tracked down our embassy and reported my condition and position to them . They were extremely helpful considering Mr. Mbeki was flying into Sudan that very evening evening.  Ebrahim , the embassy head of management then went as far as formally requesting for me to meet with The President . I was obviously now woken up to the fact that Khartoum had more in store for me than I first expected . Because the request  was at short notice and Mr Mbeki had the peace accord to sign in Kenya I was told to be on stand by. I was extremely excited and for the next day entertained more discussion from locals regarding our president's intervention in the peace accord. The one man , Mr Moon  (The Arabic equivalent was to difficult so he told me to call him that.) who looked a bit like the late Mr. Walter Sisullu asked me to convey his personal thanks to Mr. Mbeki for what our country has done for his people in the south of Sudan. That would have been one of the things I would have definitely relayed to Mr. Mbeki , also how his picture in Liberia saved my bacon. I say 'would have' because I eventually did not meet with him. As things go in this part of the world , 'delay' is usually included in the itinerary. What really impressed me about our President was his resolution to work through a traditional festive period.  He was asked whether he would be doing anything special for New Year. He replied that new year is just another day for him and that as the president h e cannot confide himself to dates on a calendar.  Mr. Mbeki allow me to tell you something , "What you did for the Sudanese people WAS special . Any other plans would have meant a forgettable entry to the new year. So who/where will it be next year ? Middle east ?  Iraq ?  North Korea ? "   My consolation , as with the Santa Clause affair , is that at least our hard working President now knows about me and my proudly South African exploits.   In Khartoum I met some South African working there. Josephine from Ericcson is a Jo'burger who heads the ericcson marketing department in Sudan. With her influence she assured that I have better contact with those at home by sponsoring a new mobile. My old one was a Pharonic model  probably used  by Neferteti and Hatchepsut in their day.    Steers is also opening here within the week as I found out while strolling through the grid fashioned , airport hugging city.   New Years with the Embassy staff and the South African business delegation , including the deputy minister for Minerals and energy affairs was a highlight.  They had a party for the whole neighbourhood , who seemed oblivious to the fact that we were  going into another year of our lives. We also celebrated twice as Sudan new Year takes place one hour before yours back home . It was fun to toi toi with my fellow South Africans again.

27 - Sudan/ Eritrea - 01/02/2005 - [ show/hide ] The real Sudan At last I got to see the real side of Sudan. In Khartoum I was smack bang in the middle of the political tension and chatter. I could almost feel the relief as I arrived at the first village along the Sudan coast. Dongounab.  Obviously to keep the circumnavigation hope alive I had to back track to the Egyptian border to start cycling again.  This backtracking has become the frustration of the century for me. I found myself not even raising a whimper while I slept out in the desert of Sudan without my usual warmth or protection. I was just keen to get on my bike and finish the 1000km in this country that other sufferings paled into insignificance. Dongounab, a fishing village on the red sea coastline, proved to be a memorable experience. The people here are very simple in their way of life and it almost felt as though I had traveled back in time. Not decades, but rather centuries. The men all sport healthy afro’s that add at least a foot of extra height to each one. Each also has a Prince Valiant type sword slung over the shoulder which are housed in sheathes of attractively decorated leather. Because the road to any major town is almost non existent, usually consisting of a sandy desert track, the people are seemingly un-influenced by global advancements. I actually met the first university entrant this village has known. On my arrival he was summoned immediately and enthusiastically. Later I realized he was the only English speaking person in this huge village. His father has actually never left the village.  Oddly enough the furtherest his father has ven tured from home has been out to sea, to bring back the catch. This village also had the distinct pleasure of learning to sing Sho Sha Loza . It was not the most harmonious or pleasing to the eardrum but definitely converted us from acquaintances to friends instantly. The cycling was extremely tough with me pushing for patches of up to 8km in some areas of thick soft sand. I imagined it to simulate crossing the stretch of beach between Melkbos and Blouwberg. Embarrassingly enough I was also lost for the first time on my journey. Really lost !  I had decided to venture slightly of the road to find harder ground. This eventually had me lost for three hours, trying to find my way back to the sandy track. I used the sun as reference, knowing the sea is to the east, I tacked my way back. I did find harder ground further out though so I am still in too minds whether the stress was worth it. I passed through other villages that really had a strange draw on me. I’m realizing more and more what it is that moulds my perception of a country. It's “real” people. One village that actually I promised myself to write about was situated between Port Sudan and Kassala, the border town of Eritrea. I had stopped as normal to have something to eat and co-incidentally got chatting to the local, government employed doctor of this mountain village. We discussed many things including the common diseases the people are prone to etc. But what the conversation led to had me shocked. The doctor, emotionally, told me how he on a daily basis has to deal with physical and psychological trauma the local women endure as a result of female circumcision. Also known as FGM, Female Genital Mutilation.  It’s something I’ve only heard and read about so it had not truly hit home. He explained to me it included the full external removal of a young girl’s genitalia. What had me even more silent was that this, as he explained, is done to ensure a woman has no libido and remains pure till she is married. To be uncircumcised is considered a shame in these communities. 95 % of all the woman in this big village are “pure”, he told me. Geezlike, its 2005 and this is the norm? I was upset by what I had heard, first hand. But more I was upset that I know I cannot do anything to change this.  These people grow up like this and know no other way.  I feel guilty for feeling helpless. My apologies for the somber note with which I’ve ended but I guess my journey is not just about the crystal clear seas and the pyramids and the touristy temples. It’s more about people.

28 - Eritrea - 16/02/2005 - [ show/hide ] Bicycle crazy Eritrea Asmara is a very charming city. It has character and seems to have a different story hidden around every corner.  She is also home to the most enthusiastic bicycle community I have met on the 24 000km thus far.  The streets are packed with young and old. From serious trainer to serious commuter. They apparently won their first Olympic medal last year and no second guess in which sport. An Eritrean cyclist came home with his bronze medal amid huge national celebration. These people are seriously bicycle crazy and for once the usual ignorant investigation of my bike became appreciative admiration.   The city lies on top of an 8000ft plateau rising from the sea in the north east and bursting from the desert in the south west. I could instantly notice the change in geography. The desert is starting to give way to vegetation. Just as in Senegal where I saw the swamp lands give way to the never ending sand of the Sahara. If I think of my journey in fast forward it boggles my mind about the reality of these weather patterns and physical terrains I’ve seen unfolding before me. Like seeing a rose bud bloom in a fast forward nature documentary.   The trip back to the Sudan border was what I expected .Aggressive mountain passes and the sighting again of my favorite tree, the Boabab. Cacti also lined the road between Keren and Asmara. What I didn’t expect though was the harassment I received from a group of children and then the later realization that they had also robbed me. Just outside the town of Keren these enthusiastic kids, no older than 15, surrounded me and started demanding money. I tried to continue riding but they had started pulling on the front and back of my bicycle . At first I was not too nervous and remained firm in saying ‘no’. The one older boy then grabbed at me as I was trying to pull away causing my bike to fall to the one side. I managed to stabilize myself and then give him a deserved firm shove on the chest. To this he re-acted angrily and immediately had his face up into mine . Just then a man from the International Red Cross who had seen what was going on forced the kids away from me . I think he was Eritrean because he seemed extremely embarrassed even when I was thanking him. My heart was racing now and all I can remember as I was pushing my bike away was that I recognized this feeling. Liberia. It was only ten or so km later that I realized the children had stolen all the clothes, including my rain jacket from the back of my rear carrier. I must be honest; I was disappointed but actually more relieved that that is all that happened. I think my tune will change drastically though when the cold and rainy weather ahead, sets in.   Eritrean people are frustrated at the state of their country. Lack of basic commodities, sugar, milk, eggs and even fuel create a feeling of impatience within people with their authorities. Authorities who currently even refuse their citizens permission to travel outside its own borders. It is the reality of what the Eritrean guy I met in Khartoum has experienced. He had to literally escape from his own country to find residency in South Africa. Again I could not help but think the clichéd thought of how we don’t appreciate what we have in our own back yard. Thankfully and encouragingly enough I met some South African people in Asmara who are currently on contract with the UN to clear landmines along the Ethiopian border. After the Carte Blanche television showing they said they knew it would be any day now before I came through here.  It’s a definite comforting factor having your own people around and supporting you. But it ironically seems to be more and more my own people who are advising me against entering Somalia. But I think those that have followed me from the beginning can understand my commitment and subsequent willingness to head for danger. The one saying that repeatedly keeps ringing loudly in my head is that of       “ Without challenge there isn’t achievement ”   I want to get home soon but above all I don’t want to let people down back home who are supporting me. My major sponsor Windhoek light has been a crucial factor in me getting this far. They believed in me when others didn’t and have proved to me they are more than just a financial backer of my world first effort. I am exceptionately proud to be associated with them.

28 - Eritrea/Djibouti - 02/03/2005 - [ show/hide ] African leaders need a reality check I cycled through an area that would have made an awesome star wars movie set. I met smiling people during the day and then had hyenas laughing me to sleep at night. I saw camels roaming the streets like stray dogs and eating out of dumpsters.  And to top all the surprises I was given a genuine body bag as a present from fellow South African “ supporters” .   Eritrea coastline was hell considering the constant 60km wind in my face . But the sensational decent from Asmara , at 2 300m above sea level, to the port of Massawa was probably a fair trade. The one section of this 65km mountain pass has you looking over the bed of clouds below . Sort of like the view you would get from your jumbo window seat. Actually , come to think of it , more like the view “TXI” the bushman guy from gods must be crazy had , just before he delivered the bottle back to the gods.   The star wars scenery I mentioned was ‘as far as the eye could see’ areas of lava slab and rock. The bulk of the Eritrean coastline was created by volcanic activity millions of years ago. Give or take a few months. Lava rock that is formed in cold water has a totally different texture and characteristic to that which flows out and has time to set naturally. I always imagined lava rock to be heavy and indestructible. Quite the contrary , this stuff was light and as brittle as your gran’s crystal champagne glasses. Took video to show people back home some time.   A few nights in this part of Africa , which some consider the hottest and most desolate  on earth were made all the more interesting by the jovial encore of the local hyena population. They were definitely around my tent at night as I found a few dog like tracks the following morning. I actually came upon one that had been run over and killed the previous night. It made me think back to the Namibian hyena story I had shared earlier on in my journey.   Along route I met a really motivational guy in the small , very small, port town of Thio. This guy, Dirk, has cycled the coast to coast routes of both Australia and the United states. It was not just the fact that he was a great guy that impressed me , but more the fact that this ozzie dude has only one leg. On top of that he has spent his life educating children in the remotest parts of the earth. He is a teacher for VSO. Volunteer Services Overseas. As some of you know I plan to use my experiences from this trip, to share with others in a motivational speaker type scenario.  Geez , If I can give over a tenth of how Dirk, the one legged Ozzie, made me feel ; I will set the stages of South Africa alight.   Trying to leave Eritrea proved to be a challenge in its own right. Once again bureaucracy reared its ugly head. This time I was detained for three consecutive days by Eritrean military for not having the ‘correct paperwork’. Each day , after having cycled to the border of Djibouti did they decide that it is better to load me and my bicycle onto the bread van going back to Assab than to let me continue 5km further through the border. This all because they were given blanket instructions that nobody can move in this zone . I had on the initial trip back, even received a hand written letter by the immigration Colonel on an official letter head giving orders to let me pass freel y. On my third return , via the bread truck, the Colonel apologised profusely and asked me not be negative about the scenario . I did agree to this but still believe that its this mentality that gets branded “African”. I am African and cannot except that as standard. Most of the frustrating situations I have found myself in have been with uneducated , intoxicated people in positions of so called power. The insane lack of logic employed in some cases is simply mind boggling . African leaders need a reality check.   The streets of Assab did provide some humerous relief though. After the frustration of been brought back so late at night I saw first hand how the camels roam the streets . One mommy camel had her head in the dumpster while her little one stood by watching the crazy cyclist go by. The old Italian buildings and the bright moonlight made for a memorable mental pic.   Then to end on an even higher note .  I met some South African military personnel that are employed by the UN as Military Observers . They monitor the military movements of both Ethiopia and Eritrea to hopefully save either party any surprises. They gave me a few good meals and a couple of good laughs . But the gift that stands out from the rest is the genuine , UN issued body bag. They had 248 but now only have 247. I will use this as a waterproof cover during the coming rainy stretch as I was not able to get a new tent sponsor in time. This will have to do.   Taking a body bag to Somalia. It just doesn’t feel right.

29 - Djibouti - 15/03/2005 - [ show/hide ] Africa’s lowest physical point One down , two to go.   I made it to Africa’s lowest physical point, Lake Assal.  The other two goals on this trip are still to conquer Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest point and then complete the 36 500km of the continents’ circumnavigation.   But having the pleasure of the breathtaking phenomenon of Lake Assal before me did not come without a price . I without doubt had to contend with the toughest winds , the most gruesome mountain passes and then the heaviest fall I have ever had on a bicycle. And that will include the suffering I endured in grade seven after attempting to be the first kid in my neighbourhood to clear 3 Ford sierras parked side by side, Evil Kanievel style.   The mountain passes , note plural, between the Djiboutian towns of Obock and Tadjoura are according to my experiences without peer. The inclines and declines are similar to the worst sections Ive seen on the Sani pass. The road in some cases follows the jagged edge of the mountain and therefore creates some very acute angles to contend with. Left, right, up or down. The road is a extremely rocky one with many large loose stones to ensure almost zero traction. I remained extremely patient for the first 45km on this specific day but could not resist pushing a bit on one of the rare straight sections. I could hear the stones flying up , hitting the frame of the bike and ricocheting in all directions . The dust that I was churning up was for once been left behind and not caking my sweaty face with a fine muddy paste.   It felt good. But not all good things last forever. These dirt roads have a large mound in the centre , obviously created by the erosion of passing vehicles tyres on either side. The road as I mentioned has many jagged rocks sticking out of the ground and I had decided to move across this mound to the right hand side track. Hoping then to have less sharp and slippery rock to contend with.  Well that as far as I remember , I had just ‘salaam Alaikum’ ed a man with his camel and then next I was next to my bicycle under a blanket of dust and aerie silence.    I could feel my arm was hurt and had begun to feel warm. As with the fall in Gabon I remained surprisingly calm and first went through a body check to see if everything was still where it should be . It was th e usual grazes and bruises but I could feel and see that I had a problem on my right hand side elbow. My elbow had made direct contact with a protruding rock during the fall. On rolling up my sleeve I could see it was a deep inch and a half long gash and smash. And I was bleeding at an impressive rate. But what do I do ? Take out the medicine kit first hey ? No . Not Manser . I decided that the video camera was more important and had a quick self interview explaining and recording my condition. I then had the camel man join me and assist me in cleaning the wound. I am nearly sure I witnessed the first sub 4 minute mountain mile . This guy ran to his hut in the mountains to fetch more water , he gave it everything he had , Like Ezekiel Sepeng in the final 200m.  Not one car had passed all day but amazingly one could now be seen decending down towards me, the man and the camel.  As they came past t hey asked if we needed help . I said all was fine but simultaneously lifted my elbow for the driver to see. The car came to an immediate stop and out jumped a Syrian Dr who was posted out in a nearby rural area. I was lucky. You will be proud of  me South Africa . I took those veterinary style stitches , without anaesthetic, like a man.   Rambo style.   On my return to Djibouti city I had wonderful assistance from a French man who is associated with the Multiport group . He had the Drs at the private French military hospital look at my arm . Initialy they were just going to replace the dressing, But ended up calling the hospital surgeon to remove the loose flesh and also dirt that was trapped inside by the initial procedure. They were concerned about me taking that injury along to Somalia so asked me to stay for a few extra observation days under their care.  Now , that’s what I call luck.   Lake Assal, by the way, was worth the effort . This lake is an astonishing 153m below sea level and only 5km from the sea. Strange thought when you stand there looking in the direction of the ocean knowing it is so high above you yet so close. I collected some natural salt crystals and balls that are found around the lake. They may not be the prettiest of souvenirs but are going to make some special presents for some special people.

29 - Djibouti - 30/03/2005 - [ show/hide ] The “Qat “ This was my second Easter egg hiding session I’ve missed.  The usual hiding of the Easter eggs in the garden for my dogs to go find will have to wait till next year I guess .   In Djibouti , because it is predominantly muslim country , Easter is not even mentioned. Not that these guys need any more holidays . They have probably the laziest existence I’ve ever encountered. For 80 % of the male population this is what an average day would entail. Slowly starting work at about 8.30 to 9.00 am and working until 12.30 . Then it is a scramble to find your supply of the narcotic leaf “Qat”. Qat is chewed for hours while reclining in a chair (or sprawled on the ground) drinking tea or ice water. The partakers’ one cheek swollen with these chewed leaves like you see a hamster do when he is storing those sunflower seeds. The finer pulp of these chewed leaves making its way onto the persons’ front teeth and spraying out when they are greeting you.  It’s a very lazy undignified sight .   This event usually lasts up to four hours having people return to work at 4.30 for about 3 hours more. That adds up to about a tough 6.30 hour day . Many people return to the “qat den “ to continue chewing this addictive drug.  Adding insult to the productive, capitalist mindset of many of you will be the fact that the Thursday afternoon and the entire Friday are write offs as far as getting anything accomplished. Hardly a soul moves on the Friday morning although more people seem to arise as it gets closer to afternoon mass prayers.   The “qat “ consumption is actually a serious problem that has received national and international attention. Many research studies have shown that of all those living below the bread line as regards income in qat chewing countries an average of 10 % of their income is still spent on this leaf. A supply of good quality qat for one afternoon session will be in the region of 5 dollars. ( 30 rand ) Qat is flown in every day from Ethiopia and receives priority clearance ahead of many other important consignments. I have seen regularly how the people actually chase after the truck that is bringing the qat into the town for distributi on. A story doing the rounds here is that when Colin Powell, the former U.S.A secretary of state , visited Djibouti before the Iraqi war in 2003 he was actually mobbed by angry locals . Many believed that they were demonstrating against the U.S and its policies, but this is untrue. The Airforce One flight had actually taken precedence over all air traffic coming into Djibouti International.  And you guessed it , the qat carrying Ethiopian flight was still circling above while the Djiboutians were going into withdrawal and Colin Powell was handing out "God bless America" T- Shirts..   But what type of person would I be if I just criticised ?  Hey , I did some first hand research . Woman are the main distributors of qat and it didn’t take long for me to find a “dealer” who could supply me with my first bag of Ethiopian leaves. I found some locals I knew and ordered the regulatory cup of tea and cardboard sheet to sit on .  The stuff tastes very unpleasant and I had to laugh thinking about the goats that were walking around  us , they were eating  plastic, and here I am sitting eating  their food , leaves.  No fireworks for me, although I did have some cold shivers even when the mercury was hitting the high thirties. I also found it very difficult to sleep . And to top it all I had a souvenir heada che to start my new day with . Some locals were telling me to use qat while cycling home to South Africa . One old ( wise ?) man asked me how many km I cycle a day . Before I could answer him he said . “ Don’t worry , just add a zero to that , That’s how much you can cycle with qat.” Tempting !  But quite honestly I don’t understand it . Why would people , in such masses, be so fascinated by this drug ? The greatest ally a dictatorial regime needs is a big distraction like war , religion or in this case qat !   But other people’s lives, that are almost entirely different than our own, are guaranteed to be interesting.  I wish I could write more , because Djibouti was an eye opener . For more info on the qat and how it has affected people lives , especially the poor , check out this website. http://ag.arizona.edu/~lmilich/yemen.html

30 - Somalia - 13/04/2005 - [ show/hide ] Step by step Step by step .  That’s exactly how I did the Somalia section of my journey. 300km of baron desert by foot , visiting a forgotten town destroyed by a tsunami , buying a 70 year old donkey with toe-nails longer than my old school ruler and having tea while sitting on a meter high pile of money . But  most importantly I met a nation crying out for recognition and support.     Whereas in the past I used the above term more figuratively, this time saw me cover 300km of truly un-ventured hostile land by foot.  The roads were merely sand tracks giving direction to those brave souls heading East or West.  I firstly flew to Hargeisa from Djibouti as I was refused all entry by land.  Djibouti Airlines, on hearing of my dilemma, sponsored my flight without hes itation. My AFRICA365’s one year budget has stretched 17 months already so it was very much appreciated.   Hargeisa has a typical conservative Arabic exterior but on deeper inspection you will find that almost every person has lived abroad or has family living abroad.  This obviously and initially due to the civil war that took place here in the nineties. In fact they have 100s of millions of dollars sent back home annually from family working or living abroad  Dahab Shiil  , among all the bombed out ruins , is a company that manages successfully to bring this money home. Even from South Africa !.  Somaliland actually is now aggressively striving to be recognized internationally as independent to the greater Somalia republic. I think for a country almost surviving entirely on their own they are not doing too badly.  Somalilanders love South Africa because we have been brave enough to recognize them.  But I think it’s the least we can do considering South African mercenaries headed the 1988 destruction of their capital city. Something I only learnt while here.   Because I could not bring my bicycle on the flight I had to rent a bike while here. At a glance the bicycle looked state of the art but that is where it ended. It was definitely state of the art in discomfort. But considering it was the only bicycle my “connected “friends could find for hire I had no choice.  I had already planned to walk the 360km coastal desert route, which is impassable by bicycle, so convinced myself to see the 170 km between Hargeisa and Berbera on this rented bike, as limited and bearable suffering.     The walk from Berbera to the Djibouti border is by far the most strenuous and challenging adventure I have ever endured in my life. I will even go as far as to say that it will stand out as the most severe test of my survival skills on this entire African circumnavigation. The first two days saw me braving the fierce sun and heat. Then , on the third day, I decided to move my walking time to cooler parts of the day , even to the night. From about 10 am to about 4 pm it was unbearably hot . I was drinking too much of my water supply and could not risk running dry. The thick sand made the walking extremely difficult and considering there was no moonlight I could not walk with any rhythm whatsoever.  I passed through the sea side village of Bullaxaar, a vibrant community that suffered a tsunami like destruction of their town in the early part of 2004. I was shown around the former town by the village chief and an English speaking guy from Yemen. The former boarding school was flattened to its foundations and other large buildings with one foot thick walls lie in ruins . A total of 14 people died , hundreds of live stock lost and not one of the traditional homes survived .   According to my guides no aid came from the outside world. No food, no money, no assistance whatsoever. I promised them I would try and raise some support or funding for basic improvements in the new village. Please check my website for this initiative and let me know directly what you can do, even if you consider it small.   This village was packed with interesting people. One man, claiming to be 102, actually insisted I film him doing a hundred meter sprint. This he wanted after I told him that the plus 100 year old 100 m world record holder comes from South Africa. He says I can arrange a showdown anywhere, anytime. Any suggestions? A local villager also sold me his 70 y-old donkey for 5 dollars. He wanted me to use it to carry my water and food supplies the remaining distance. But unfortunately this donkey had a handicap, he had toe nails nearly a foot long. Unbelievable ! I also met a guy that used to smuggle the Russian sponsored arms by boat from Yemen to Hargiesa. These arms were used in the liberation struggle from the then greater Somalia. He was only 14 at the time. Geez !   This walk and the people I met along it's stretch will be remembered . Six days later I marched into Seylac town . Definitely not looking like the hardened adventurer I advertise myself to be .   Step by step I say. Step by step.

31 - Ethiopia - 27/04/2005 - [ show/hide ] “ Amassengeneloh “ “ Amassengeneloh “  That is ‘thank-you’ in Amharic. I personally think someone should rather be thanking me for pronouncing that word correctly .  For a guy who has prided himself on getting to grips with the languages on route thus far , I have let myself down . This word has me stumped and I cannot seem to get it out without an accompaniment of local Ethiopian laughter.  I have spent the last ten days , while trying to master one foreign word, in unnabating seasonal rain.  The 750km to Addis Ababa was done mainly in sopping wet conditions and led to me acquiring a sore throat and a Rod Stewart voice.  My body feels good though and it’s definitely a blessing to be back on a tarred surface.  The Eastern Ethiopian mountain ranges are spectacular and the views make every drop of sweat in conquering them worthwhile.  It feels like years that I last averaged over 20km per hour for a day’s effort. I sincerely believe the delays of the northern African region are a thing of the past and I will be home before I know it. The border crossing from Somalia into Ethiopia was; dare I say; pleasant.  The re-routing of the last 4 countries was extremely taxing on my time and patience. So the open road is back and I have only four more countries to pass through to reach home . But like this entire journey has been , not a day goes by without some little adventure . In the mountains between Babille and Harar a local village’s young bull decided I was a threat to his herd. He impulsively charged my bicycle and me as we passed him and caused me to fall. It was quite a view from where I was, underneath my bicycle, with this energetic snorting mass aggressively burying its head into my bicycle’s baggage.  The old lady that was ‘herding’ the cattle immediately came to my assistance in chasing the young bull away . I was not hurt at all and quite frankly enjoyed this little thrill. To the extent that I took my video camera out in case this bull decided to charge me again .    But the humouristic irony now unveiled itself as some of the wrinkled villagers’ ( As energetic as the young bull) approached me demanding ‘ baksheesh ”. I filmed them instead.  I couldn’t help asking myself what direction rural tourism in Ethiopia was taking !. The ancient city of Harar is also extremely interesting , not just for its historical city walls but for me more for their famous hyena men.  These men feed the hyenas every evening just after sunset . They feed the hyenas by hand and some even dare to do the feeding by holding the raw meat in their mouths. Hyenas have the strongest jaws in the animal kingdom and a little movement in the wrong direction could leave you with an involuntary nose job. As I’m obviously not in the formal tourist mode I could not time my arrival to Harar to fit in with the feeding . Apparently willing visitors can try their luck, so to speak.  I would definitely have enjoyed that experience. I must also share a little personal thing with you. As many of you can guess I don’t make an exasperated effort in finding a place to relieve myself along route. Usually if there isn’t an audience I’m pretty comfortable where ever. The reason I tell you this is because I happened to now officially have the most amazing view while taking a leak in the Ethiopian mountains. So much that I was at pains as to how I was going to explain this one to the people back home.  I stood there audibly trying to find the words to explain what I was appreciating. Simply put I couldn’t find the words but like they say “ It’s the little things that count” I head south now to Kenya and immediately join the coast again just north of Mombasa. But while I do that I want some of you to try the “ Amassengeneloh “ ( ama  - segen  - ne   -loh  )  for a day or two .  See how long it takes for you to replace your instinctive ‘thank-you’ with a comfortable rendition of the Amharic version.

31 - Ethiopia - 11/05/2005 - [ show/hide ] Harar hyena experience This week no other story could match my Harar hyena experience. I got nose to nose with wild hyenas in one of Ethiopia’s oldest cities.   Things have worked out quite well for me in Ethiopia. Firstly this country has been a surprise beyond words, our embassy in Addis Ababa treated me like royalty and thirdly my same embassy made arrangements for my girlfriend; who I last saw 1 year ago; to visit me here. They arranged the flight from South Africa and the accommodation at the luxurious Hilton Hotel for a few nights.   I put in some additional cycling effort after hearing this news, so that the visit would not be too guilt ridden. I also arranged the visit to Harar so that she could get an idea of what type of landscape I’ve covered and more particularly, to get an idea of what I mean when I say “adventure”   They call them the “Hyena men of Harar”. Very simply these local guys are out every evening after sunset feeding the hyenas by hand. They know them all by name and actually, as it appeared to me, seem to communicate with them. This takes place on the outskirts of the city along the banks of a small ravine. This ravine allows the hyenas sheltered access to even deeper parts of the city. After the ‘hyena man’ had the hyenas at ease he then beckoned for me to come nearer. I cautiously moved to his flank while he continued to feed the hyenas by hand, but now no more than a meter away from me . With only the moonlight and the odd fluorescent as lighting, the glisten of their huge fangs and beady eyes had my adrenalin flowing. It felt great. But then it was my cue. He handed me a 10 cm piece of bamboo and casually laid a piece of meat over its one end. I did not have to encourage the hyena, which was about waste high in size, to aggressively snatch it off this small piece of bamboo.  I felt it’s warm breath as it came within cm’s of my hand to take what it believed to be it’s. I was in his environment now and I did not need that verbally explained to me.   But, as I have always been, I could not go back on what I had promised myself . . . . . . .                            To feed the hyenas from my own mouth!        So the next piece of meat was carefully laid on the piece of bamboo that I had now positioned firmly in my mouth. The hyena was cautious at first but as before, snatched it away with confidence. I was thrilled and asked to do it again and again and again. The following few times I looked the hyena straight in the eyes and could easily see down his throat as he lunged towards my face.  I couldn’t believe that I had come that close to the strongest jaw that the animal kingdom had on offer. Probably the worst breath too.  My girlfriend acted as camera lady and made sure I have the visuals to show my grandchildren one day.    Thank you to the friendly Ethiopian people I met. Thank you to my embassy people who arranged for the “moral support”   And it would be criminal to end without re-affirming a worldwide fact.  Ethiopia has the prettiest girls per square cm than any other country I have ever been to.  But I’m convinced it’s got something to do with the altitude and the water. What else could it be?   Oh yes . One thing that I need advice on is what I tell my children one day when I instruct them to be careful and tell them not to do things that may be dangerous. What do I tell them after they bring the above video footage in as mitigation of their argument for disobedience?   Only serious suggestions will be entertained!

32 - Ethiopia \ Kenya - 24/05/2005 - [ show/hide ] Km's are flying by The km’s are flying by. I am at the Kenyan border and should pass through in a day or two. A few more mountains passes, a couple more flat tyres and I’ll be home. The departure out of Addis also saw me lose five kilograms instantly. I cut my beard.   The trip south of Addis Ababa was as the rest of Ethiopia, a surprise. The roads have been great which has to some extent nullified the heavy rains. The scenery reminds me of a mixture of Angola’s agricultural denseness and northern Gabon’s grass plains. The people are friendly without a sense of boundary. I had afternoons where I didn’t know whether I could squeeze out another enthusiastic  “Salaamno” I had had reports from other cyclists that you only get inundated with stone throwing children asking for money. But that has not been the case. It is more like hundreds of children running alongside you repeating the onl y two sentences in English they posess. ‘How are you?’ and ‘What is your name?’ Even when you have answered them 20 times they will still ask you again. Sometimes this proves a bit more tiring than the cycling.  What really amazed me about these kids, some under 10 years of age, is how they maintain the speed over the distances they follow me. Many times I’ve traveled 20 km p\h over a longish distance (considering the hills) only to look back to find the same children still behind me. Ethiopia is a genuine athlete sausage factory.   In Shoshamane, I discovered the Ethiopian Rastafarian community. The story is that about 2000 Jamaicans decided three decades back to make Ethiopia their home. They even burned their Jamaican passports at the time as proof of their commitment.  These Jamaican people want to emulate Bob Marley’s love for Ethiopia and Africa. From what I saw first hand, all the other Rastafarian habits are also strictly emulated. I had great pleasure in telling some locals that we have a famous rugby playing Rastafarian in South Africa.  Namely Ncgobani Bobo.   Taking a beak usually involves stopping for a cool drink in a small village or even taking a few pictures. A new experience for me, which I categorized as a rest, came in the form of a game of table tennis. This small village had a table tennis table precariously perched on a few slippery rocks only a few meters from the edge of the road. I couldn’t help but think of what proportion inter village competitions would take. Home advantage would be crucial. For one you will know which slippery rocks underfoot to avoid and then also what affect each type of passing vehicle has on wind conditions.   I played a game, and lost. But I am sure the guy I asked to film me, captured me winning at least one point.   My bicycle has been under pressure as conditions have been severe and maintenance few and far between since Eritrea. The chain has broken at least twice a day and the tyres/tubes been replaced at fortnightly intervals. I received a new rear carrier rack from SA so replaced the current one that was been held together with cable ties and chewing gum. Actually I am proud of that piece of aluminum surviving 27 000km and enduring the continual severe abuse on route.   I wouldn’t be the perfect sunscreen model but I guarantee you I will definitely be able to promote that piece of bicycle extra.

32 - Kenya - June 2005 - [ show/hide ] Sick days in Kenya Having done 28 000km through 32 countries without being ill was an achievement on its own. But on entering northern Kenya, even with my will and determination, I could not shake off the migraines that were plagueing me for more than an entire week. I had to go see Doctors in Nairobi and have blood tests and CT scans to make sure it was not as serious as I expected.   These headaches were similar to what I experienced in Guinea and in Angola but they did not have the same stamina as these ones recently. When I eventually got to sit in front of a Dr in Nairobi I had had the migraines for ten days running.  I had dabbled with a local Kenyan Sangoma a bit who was determined to help me and prove the effectiveness of his mixtures.  Grated toad skin, rattlesnake eyeballs and turtle testicles mixed vigouresly with luke warm water will probably kill anything I guess.  I am not sure what the luke warm, grainy mixture contained but it didn’t taste good. In this case I just went with the age old saying that “If it doesn't kill you ………………………………”    Actually this was not a fun part of my trip . I was far away from anything and everything that could probably save my life. Little transport moves on the Northern kenya dirt roads. Izak from the SA high commission in Nairobi made sure I got to the best medical places in the city and also opened his house for me to get some needed 'dry' rest. All the results returned negative except for the fact that I have a viral infection. It will probably turn out to be a severe attack of flu considering the wet conditions Ive endured in the last month. Ironically I was dissapointed with this outcome . I like to see results for my efforts.   In Nairobi I met up with the guys from CNN who are putting together a piece about me for their ‘Inside Africa’ program. The amazing thing about this is that the head presenter is our very own Thumi Mkabo. From the first time I saw her on SABC I developed the greatest admiration for her. Apart from her being able to speak better Afrikaans than some Afrikaans people she also, in my opinion, was by far the most proffesional presenter we had. It is a pitty that she had to find a foreign outlet for her irripressible talents.  Now I won’t personally meet with her here but Im glad she is going to present something on her show with a serious local flavour.   I had very good news last week too to cheer me up a bit . Windhoek light had decided to extend their support for a few more months . They have , looking back , actually made this entire trip possible. Fortunately I have not regularly been ill , but its amazing what their support has freed me up to do when I do get ill. I probably would not have done the CT scan and would have excluded half the blood tests. With their help I was able to do what I had to .     The other day I looked at the map of where I have gone and where I still need to go. Geezlike, I am close to home. Take a look yourselves. You will be surprised too.     22/06/2005 " Hakuna Matata "   I traveled back in time, met a psychic immigration officer and even saw enough wildlife to satisfy even the fussiest, palest safari starved “mzungu” (White Man). But this all didn’t come mahala. The northern part of Kenya is one huge game park that has roads that advance directly as a finalist in the “Africa35 Worst Road” award category.    Ethiopia still officially runs a calendar that is 8 years behind our own.  This meant that I literally traveled back 8 years over a distance of 60 meters.  I do not feel or look any different but it probably evens out the severe beating I’ve taken at the hands of the mighty sun.  At this same border where I defied the basic laws of time I also met a physic immigration officer. After my recent illness in Nairobi and having returned to resume my cycling I decided I would try having a last hallo to Ethiopia and her wonderful macchiato coffee. The border town of Moyale is split into two parts, the Kenyan underdeveloped side and the largely more technologically advanced Ethiopia side. People unofficially cross this border in their droves and it seems the officials only look out for fairer skinned homo sapiens passing by.  The Kenyan border officials said I could return to Ethiopia for a few hours and then they would let me back without any hassle when returning. So I went for it. I walked as confidently and as relaxed as any of the other 500 school children crossing no-mans land. I was already on Ethiopian soil when I heard a loud calling and some excited officials coming towards me. They obviously wanted to know where I was going so I explained my situation; the coffee, the internet etc. but it had no affect. The guy in charge just ordered the guards to escort me back to Kenya land as I only had a single entry visa to Ethiopia.  “Fair enough” I told him, “but what about all the people that are streaming through the border post at will”   “No, No, You don’t understand. They are all Kenyan and Ethiopian “ It was amazing how this guy could sense this, all from about a 100 m away After pointing out my admiration of this very rare and underutilized skill, he promptly had his armed guards march with me, arm in arm, back to Kenya. I know that strictly that I was in the wrong and am glad rules are enforced. But you would have had a grin on your face seeing all the people moving across the border at will behind me while this immigration officer was aggressively laying down the law to me. It would have made interesting viewing.   On the exhausting truck journey back after my treatment in Nairobi I had the reward of seeing a cheetah.  The reward was for involuntarily remaining awake for over 30 hours.  We had just passed a small town called Torbi(seven hills) at about 5 am . In the distance I could see something moving on the side of the road. It was moving at roughly our speed of 35 km an hour and extremely gracefully. Approximately 100m away I could clearly see it was a cheetah. It was glancing back periodically as it ran. When it realized the truck was catching up to it , it gently shifted into another gear and pulled clear of us and soon found a gap in the thick bush into which to duck. The elephants I saw near the town of Marsabit was when I was back on my bicycle, heading in the “right” direction. I saw two herds, both about 500m away from me. These large grey masses swinging their huge trunks from side to side were practically living side by side with the local Massai warrior look-alike residents. This will be a permanently engrained picture in my brains archive. I also saw eland, some foxes, large rabbits, duiker, zebra and many antelope. I am still holding thumbs for more direct interaction with some of the wildlife on route. I need more adventure.   I don’t know how many of you know that the famous Jungle Book song “Hakuna Matata” is actually Swahili for “No Problem”. I didn’t. My whole life I have had the habit of singing songs aloud that I thought I knew the words to. And this usually in public and with my friends in attendance. Hakuna Matata was one of those songs. Publicly I now apologize to all those I have embarrassed in the past. Next time I sit with you in a jam packed restaurant I will at least be singing the right words   My bicycle supporter, Mongoose, has generously decided to replace everything that moves on my bike.(Besides me of course) After 29 000 km’s this bike has proved to be awesome, so a little cosmetic surgery can only prove to spice up our relationship.

33 - Kilimanjaro - 05/07/2005 - [ show/hide ] Africa's highest point On the morning of the 3rd of July I saw the sun rise over our continent but this time from the very unique and privileged view point of Uhuru peak atop Mount Kilimanjaro.. Completing the second dimension of my adventure, that of standing above ALL of Africa, was definitely not that easy. Mount Kilimanjaro is physically Africa’s highest point at 5895m above sea level.   The world took another perspective for me as I was slowly been frozen in the minus 13 degrees Celsius environment. The edge of this dormant volcano rim has probably more value than any psychologists couch on the planet. I seemed to understand things about myself and the world that I could not have anywhere else, If that makes any sense. It was a truly magical and worthwhile 4 day hike up the mountains side. The first day took us through the dense rain forest belt that encircles the mountain to 2700m above sea level.  The second day had the terrain change to a dryer one with small shrubs sharing the surface with ancient volcanic rock at 3750m above sea level. The third day found us at base camp, Kibo hut, which was snuggled under the mountain summit in desert conditions at 4700m above sea level. The air was remarkably thinner and the difficulty to get oxygen comfortably, seemed to compound from here upwards. On arrival at Kibo we had lunch and then advised to do last minute preparations kit wise and also to get some all important sleep as we were expected to leave camp at midnight for our summit attempt.. I have had back to back challenges for the last year and nine months but nothing was as intense, in expectation, as those last few hours. I did not fall sleep easily.  The walk started in the silent darkness of midnight. I had made friends with a Chinese Canadian guy on route and we decided to tackle this last 1250m climb together. He, usually a vibrant character, also seemed subdued by the challenge ahead. The climb was extremely steep and to make it more interesting it was on soft volcanic skree. This skree had you taking two steps forward and sliding one back.  Reaching the crater rim after only four hours was a huge milestone as it only meant another 200m climb in height along the edge to Uhuru peak. What made it special for me was seeing these gigantic ice glaciers a mere 30m from me. In the early morning light these thousand + year old ice blocks were breathtaking. Emotion engulfed me when the first ray of light actually reflected of them. My Canadian friend, who had by now taken badly to the lack of oxygen, was not even responding to my enthusiastic appreciation of these things.  I summited Africa’s highest peak at 7.30am on the third of July 2005 with huge pride in my heart. I just had one regret, the regret of not sharing this with someone special. All respect to Jesse, my Canadian friend.  Jesse actually gave us the most humorous moment of the entire trip. While he was filming me in front of the Uhuru peak sign he managed to fall asleep standing. When looking at the video later you could see how the focus of the camera moved slowly from my head down to my feet and then ended with the characteristic “marlin strike”  You can see the expression on my face change drastically to one of disbelief.  It took approximately 2 hours to descend to Kibo camp again. Our porters were waiting eagerly to welcome us with bowls of warm soup and bread.   I think this single achievement will form a major part of my motivational speech ethos in the future. The trip would not have been possible without the kind support of Kobo Safaris. Spur, Holiday Inn and S.A.W.A (South African Woman’s Association) in Nairobi provided true South African hospitality and motivation. It was also the first time in over a year that I saw the Windhoek lager lining the fridges of restaurants and bars in the city.   This was one of those weeks that I honestly look back to and say that I did not deserve. I am experiencing more personal development than I had ever bargained for. Not a day goes by when I don’t remind myself of the saying “ Without challenge there is no achievement.”    Start looking at problems ( a.k.a challenges) differently.

33 - Tanzania - Aug 2005 - [ show/hide ] Culture confusion TANZANIA#1   02-08-2005 The original explorers, adventurers or what many Africans know only as colonialists all seem to have left their own distinct footprint along my African journey.   Initially I accepted the change of culture as simply as I did the change in geographical scenery. Now I can distinctively link the attitude/vibe of the particular countries’ population to the cultural influence they were subjected to by these explorers. Having left the uncolonialised plains of Ethiopia to pass through ‘English’ Nairobi and ‘Arabic’ Mombasa on the way to ‘Swahili’ Tanzania, I could almost tangibly feel the difference in people. And this change I felt on a daily basis. The huge number of ships landing here from the varying countries and cultures really made a concerted effort to leave their mark. Leaving their mark of language, buildings and more noticeably to me, religion.   All the way across our vast continent to the West, the same pattern in people change seems to be duplicated. Thinking back now I can clearly remember the change in people but never gave it any extended thought.   But in the last few weeks I’ve had some protracted self discussion of how I would , as a local , feel knowing that my current religion or language was thanks to bored , over energetic sea farers. Most people I have had chance to chat to from Mombasa to Tanzania, make huge effort in letting me know they have NO Arabic links and are pure Kenyan or Tanzanian. I don’t think the people have a problem with being Arabic per se, but it leads me to the point of how an African seems to feel less African because history shows some external influence or change.  I personally believe people do not follow the time line back far enough then. We all originate from somewhere, so essentially we are all settlers to some extent or another.  Depending on how far you want to go back on the time line that is.   On the cycling front I have been relieved to ply my trade on a smooth surface once again. I also have promised not to get over excited again because recently the jubilation does not seem to last too long. The roads inevitably return to their challenging best. Many people mail me and suggest routes that are easier and usually tarred in surface but unfortunately I need to stay as close to the coast as possible. This has literally had me stopping at cross roads and choosing the worst of the possible lot. Almost everytime. I think that northern Mozambique will be the last challenging roads section before I get to South Africa.   On a personal note I must admit I am quite numb to my environment in the last few weeks. I think I am focussing my attention on the remaining section and also am a little home sick.  Ok maybe not a little, but rather seriously and chronically home sick.  It has become challenge number one. And I can’t take medication for it either.   I hope some of you saw the CNN interview. Although only about 5 minutes I am so proud to have had the world looking in on the efforts of a South African doing what most of their bored, over energetic, explorer, adventurer ancestors would never have considered.   Last but not least I cannot wait for this weekend. This weekend I will, without fail, get to a place that is showing the rugby. Seeing the national anthem being sung two weeks ago at the Nelson Mandela challenge had me more emotional than the average Oprah Winfrey audience guest. I will not dare miss it.       TANZANIA#2    16-08-2005   I have never been more convinced that time can also fly when you’re NOT having fun. Well its not that I was having an excruciatingly bad last fortnight. It’s more that I just do not know what consumed these valuable last days of my epic journey.   All I know is that I covered roughly 800km, watched  rugby, had some pap en wors (Traditional South African meal of savory porridge and beef sausage.) and fixed my bike a few times local style.   The pap and wors story I want to tell you about because it was definitely a highlight of the trip thus far. The local Dar es Salaam Holiday Inn gave me accommodation while here and also , in conjunction with the SA high commission hosted a press conference. The press conference went as planned but the only odd thing I noticed during it was that there was periodically a person opening the door at the rear of the room and peaking in. It was a young lady in what I consider a traditional chef outfit. All she was missing was the cake flour on her hands and a rolling pin as a prop. The press conference officially ended which then gave some journalists a chance to have private time with me.  I had been answering question for about 3 hours on the trot by now and was contemplating an escape route. But this was not necessary as Super Chef came to the rescue. She leaned into the doorway for the 100th time but this time decided enough was enough. She had been patient beyond reason. With a very gentle voice she introduces herself as Maryna and explains that she works in the hotel’s kitchen. She asks me if there is anything specific I would like to eat and suggests pap and wors. I didn’t reply with an emphatic ‘yes’ but rather a crackled and wimpy “You’re not joking, aren’t you?”  Fortunately she wasn’t and 45 minutes later I was experiencing bliss, at a restaurant table.     Half the bicycle mechanic population of Dar es Salaam had a crack at fixing my bike's back wheel. The wheel is still not properly fixed yet but will definitely have to be replaced. The guys from Mongoose have been great in supplying any spares I’ve needed without reservation. They will be getting an email from me shortly. The same Mongoose people actually suggested a new bike. Generous, but I see replacing the bike now as a huge negative. Firstly they are in avertedly wanting to take away my only recent/constant companion, frustration. And secondly and more seriously I want children across South Africa (and the world) to touch and see the bike that made it around the earth’s most famous continent.   This now actually brings me to a very important point. If you are a school principal, a head of department, the school librarian or even the school mascot, please register your school as a ‘Homecoming School’. This you can do on the website by looking out for the “Homecoming School” button. Leave us your details and someone will be in contact with your school to arrange for some of the children to join me in making history. We can try get the town mayor’s and local fire chiefs involved too. Mail me now , the kids will hold it against you forever if you don't.                           I’ll end with a humorous personal moment I had recently. I was invited for dinner by one of the holiday resorts near the Kenyan / Tanzanian border.  The setting was alongside this huge pool that was surrounded by large palm and coconut trees. Ideal actually. They also put my table right in front of the dance floor which meant I had the best seat in the house to all the foreigners letting there ‘hair down’.  But the uniqueness of my free show was that most of the people were ‘lang arming’ (South African Cha-Cha) to the Kenyan version of By the Rivers of Babylon. Man, it was hilarious. All I could think of was how friends of mine, Bollie and Tanya would probably be the only two people in the world that could make that ‘lang arm’ scene look half respectful. But consolation to this scene would have been the well known saying “Dance as if nobody is watching”

34 - Tanzania - 30/08/2005 - [ show/hide ] Cuda , Kilwa and Kingsley I have finally arrived in the final county of my journey. Not seeing home as another country is obviously making Mozambique the final hurdle between me and home. But there is still a lot for me to see and experience.  Like catching my first fish at sea and seeing some more of the beauty Africa has on its smorgeus board.   The trip south of Dar es Salaam was tough as the roads narrowed into sandy tracks in places. But as before, the beauty that lay in wait made all effort worth while. With a new rear wheel I meandered my way through awesome hilly, baobab littered scenery that finally had me on the coast again in Kilwa Masoko. South Africans from Cape Town actually own the lodge and have transformed it into something that is about to take off touristicaly. The waves break a few meters from you cottage door while the bar and restaurant could easily have your feet wet at spring highs. These guys took me to the 12th century ruins on the nearby island and then also popped me on a fishing boat for an afternoon, forcing me to catch my dinner. This they did after hearing my most adventurous fishing experience was as a kid in the small craft harbour of Richards Bay. The lady that joined us three guys on the boat caught a 32 kg sailfish. As a policy these fish are usually caught and released. Unfortunately this fish was exhausted and would not have survived. It is an awesome looking fish, especially when it makes it’s trademark 10 meter leaps into the air.  It was then my turn to step up and real in rather small 10kg yellow fin tuna. The guys from Kilwa lodge said this is relatively small as many of these fish get over 50kg in weight and take you a few good hours to bring in. As a very enthusiastic meat eater but an equally committed animal lover I would rather have us humans put in a bit of sweat and effort for our food. The sashimi that night was very tasty with me actually turning the supposed starter into my main course.   My path crossed with adventurer Kingsley Holgate’s by a mere day. Kingsley is sailing up the east coast in a traditional dhow educating people about malaria and simultaneously handing out mosquito nets to the local communities. He stayed at Kilwa lodge the very night before. We have good people in SA doing such great things around the continent. I hope the wind blows in the right direction for his humanitarian effort.   Debbie Yazbek the CNN photo journalist of the year (Africa) flew up to Tanzania to get a few pics of me along the road.  Time was a bit limited as I had to get through the border and she had to get back to Johannesburg. I hope the pics are good and add some more visual pleasure to my book. Independent newspapers will hopefully run a national feature of these recent pictures.   Please get your school registered as a homecoming school. TODAY !  I will meet with the kids from each school and cycle a few km’s with them. This will take serious organization and preparation and can only be successful if the schools register early.  Besides the kids loving it I think it will give an opportunity for me to meet with many of you who have followed my journey over the last two years. We will also be raising some money with this national drive and cap of my adventure with something good for our country.    The Getway shows are having me as a guest speaker for their shows country wide so please check the show schedule and see if you can make it to one of them.

34 - Mozambique - 13/09/2005 - [ show/hide ] Animal adventure I’ve been saying for a long time now that I would love some animal adventure. By that I don’t mean I want to experience the exhilaration of an elephant stampede or the adrenalin rush of being mauled by a fully-grown lion.  What I want is somewhere between doubling my heart rate and peeing in my pants.   It nearly happened 20km into Mocambique. The north is wild and un ventured. I feel strange actually saying that, unventured, because it makes me feel arrogant. We consider it un ventured only because we haven’t built a holiday resort there. So I rephrase. It is wild and still does not have a holiday resort in sight. Nonetheless, 20km in and I was already cycling and pushing my bike over piles of warm and moist elephant dung. Yip, I know this because I gave it the old game ranger test. I leaned down and took a handful and squished it around between my sweaty fingers.  I was excited now because it meant the elephants were nearby. From there on onwards I hardly gazed down but was continuously scanning either side of me. I could not listen for any movement either because the flies that were imitating satellites around my head were far too noisy. But I kept scanning. This was doubly difficult considering that the dirt track was slowly evolving into a soft sandy track. And then there it was, all 2m of her. This beautiful python seemed to just appear in front of my bicycles’ front wheel, slung out across the road.  Geez, I was happy and scared. I cautiously moved backwards expecting the snake to strike at any moment. She had now tightly contracted the front part of her body and seemed very irritable with her tongue flickering franticly.  After laying my bike down at a safe distance I took my camera out and decided to go back into the unsafe distance for a picture. At this stage I still did not know what snake it was and imagined been bitten by it. Having nowhere to go for help, that would have been an unnecessary adventure this late in my journey.  I eventually sat down and just stared at her until she maneuvered herself back into the dense bush.   In the town of Palma I slept in Hotel Fernando. It is definitely not as exotic as it sounds but was another involuntary memory maker. This local guy had built the shell of a building with four large rooms. The floors had beach sand as its base and had hand made wooden beds placed randomly in each room. Mosquito nets seemed to hover, mysteriously unassisted above each bed.  When I spoke a little Portuguese to him he took that for me being fluent. The echo of his deep voice and the unmistakable Portuguese swish and swash sounds reverberating around us was unforgettable in that golden candlelight. I filled in the gaps with  “Si, Si, Si, Si, and Si. “   The roads, apparently with some South African help, have systematically improved the further I have gone south. I even bumped into one of Kingsley Holgates’ former travel buddies.  This bloke is one of the most interesting I’ve met along route. He speaks 9 languages, fluent in Zulu too, and prefers being called Xali. (Not Charley)   It was my birthday on Wednesday, the third one I’ve had on the journey. Now I believe that fact alone must categorise me as an EXTREME adventurer. Please send my birthday cards and cake to my website.   My first Getaway/ Mazda Adventure Show appearance, though half baked, was a different world to what I’ve experienced in the last two years. It was amazing to meet people face to face that have followed my journey through thick and thin times. It personally still amazes me how my journey has awoken the adventure in some of our senior citizens. Amazing because I never thought them to be my target market. When you hear some of the plans I’ve heard you would be stunned too.   Please get some more schools registered on my website for the Homecoming School Campaign. Also, if your sister is the town’s mayor, please don’t be shy to give her my email address. We would like some prominent folk on two wheels too. We will be in contact with each of you shortly, giving the time schedule, route and related plans. Thanks.

34 - Mozambique 2 - 27/09/2005 - [ show/hide ] Destroyed forests It is shocking to see how the forests are being burnt and cut down here in Northern Mocambique. I am flabbergasted at how the earth’s destruction actually does have a price.   A combination of professional logging and local charcoal industry must be to blame. If something is being done to repair the damage then I want to see it. I don’t want to hear about it. Being in a privileged position on my bike I see more of this reality than a person who would be traveling in motorized transport. I could obviously be uninformed of the argument of the people on the other side of the chain saw or axe, but still. Never mind a few hundred meters of burnt out land or barren wood stumped areas , it is more like hundreds of km´s of this apocalypse scenery. The people here are the replica of the friendly faces of Angola and even the same smell of the other side of the continent lingers in the air. But visually there is almost nothing to compare. A local in the town of Nacaroa, who co- incidentally works for the department of agriculture, made me laugh though. He said it all has to do with education. I pointed out that the said education was obviously not working and  then followed up with the question of what will the government do once the situation is irreversible?  “Blame colonization”  he said. Classic for the moment, but sadly a serious possibility.   The beautiful baobab does though make a regular appearance. I heard from a local recently that every 9 meters of girth roughly translates into a thousand years of age.  Man, these trees deserve all my admiration and publicity I have given them. Some further visual consolation for me has come in the form of these gianormous bolder \ rocks that seem to actually pierce the smooth surface of land surrounding it. Some of them have closely resembled the classic picture of a southern right whale’s breach. The town of Nampula was possibly the most littered with these giant rocks.   The roads have been surprisingly good with a few hundred km´s of South African influenced tarmac welcoming me thus far. This has made for a reasonable daily average well over a 110km per day.  My stamina that I had developed midway through my journey has been rejuvenated. As many people who do any major distances on there bikes will tell you, strength can only sustain you so far. You need the stamina. Since my bike is very loaded and looks an intimidating site I receive plenty accolades along route from people I pass. It is usually not in a language form but rather exaggerated sounds. This is the way I would describe it. Everybody understands the relationship between good, better and best. In-turn the levels of amazement can be categorized similarly. HUH is for good , EISH for better and a high pitched sharp AY is for best. I’m getting a lot of AY’s along the way lately. I also return the compliment when appropriate. I saw a small man carrying two 50kg cement bags on his head in Nampula. Although his neck vertebra must be compressed to a similar density of lead he still managed a broad smile and a glance in my direction.    Sony South Africa came to my rescue with a new video camera.  By far the most advanced I’ve laid my hands on and actually has me a bit nervous as to whether I’ll do it any justice. I have come to the point now where part of my daily time budget includes filming. Very necessary considering that when my grandchildren are grown up there will probably be a floodlit freeway making its way around the continent. All the proof I need will come in handy convincing them.

35 - South Africa Return Home - [ show/hide ] The End Im home.   Well nearly.  I went through the Kosi bay border post into SA roughly 12 days ago and have cycled non stop to get home .  In between I managed to meet a couple of mayors , see my home town and even bungi jump off the highest bridge in Africa . All 216 metres off the bloukrans river bridge .    The Transkei and her uncountable hills and passes were a rough, wet and tough welcome back home too. Although the site of Port St Johns was awesome . It was one of the moments on this journey where I said to myself  , “ Geez , this place was always a dot on the map , And now Im enjoying  this marvelous sight first hand."   The beauty of this town and its surrounds made the liters of sweat I created seem irrelevant.   I saw the bungi jumping turn off as I was heading towards Plettenberg Bay and could not resist . Resist taking a look at least , that is.  I originally had a plan of asking the management for a sponsored jump  and dully approached them as  I arrived. To be perfectly honest , I was hoping they would decline my request .  But they didn’t and 30 minutes later I was airborne and plummeting to the riverbed 216 metres below.  The video they took shows me quite relaxed and enthusiastic…….. but that’s not how I felt.   I arrive at the V&A Waterfront , clock tower at 4.30 on this Friday afternoon . Today in fact. I would love to meet and see all the people who have followed my two year . 36 500km journey . The bicycle is a sight of its own and I look no better I think. Carte Blanche and the other TV and radio people will be there to be part of this special day. The Carte Blanche documentary will be aired on the 4th of December . Dont miss it.  Its going to be awesome to see Table Mountain as I pass over Sir Lowrys pass this morning. Probably very emotional.    It is actually unbelievable for me to imagine that this journey is coming to an end . I am more nervous about the finish than I was at the start . My life has taken more meaning . My approach to life a lot more clear. I am more thankful for what I have and appreciate each moment for itself. I cant wait to share what I have learnt with others and motivate them to get up and do what they have always dreamed about.   Get yourself and a few friends over to the Waterfront , look for the Windhoek light area and bring a few welcome home banners. I cannot wait.