The Final Frontier

 Day 506

Milage 36,337 (58,139 kms) 

The roof of Africa

Waking early to the sound of birds greeting the new day is one of the simple pleasures of life in a tent. As the sun slowly rose and the world filled with light I quietly rested longer than usual, letting the significance of my new location settle in. Just south of the Limpopo River I was now inside South Africa and Cape Town, my goal, was within reach. As I packed my tent and loaded my bike I prepared for the short drive to the nearby city of Johannesburg and a visit with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen for many years. Traveling south, I tried to ignore the grinding that had grown significantly as my chain and sprockets far exceeded their intended lifespan, I knew I could find replacement parts soon and I hoped the ones I had would hold out for the last few hundred kilometers. A broken chain at high speed can cause considerable damage as it whips into the engine casing so I tried to take it easy but, entering the fast flowing traffic of South Africa’s motorway system made that difficult without becoming a hazard to myself and those around me. By early afternoon I had successfully reached the home of a dear friend who I had worked alongside many years ago in Chile. For the next week, Lynn and her delightful mother, Joan, opened their home to me, showering me with overwhelming hospitality as I set about finding the parts I needed to put my bike back into reasonable running order. 

Uhuru gets an overhaul

Finding spare parts in Africa has been a constant headache and it felt odd to have so many choices when it came to locating what I needed in Johannesburg, the last time I had access to any kind of motorcycle dealership was in Egypt and somehow I’d made the parts I was carrying last this long. A few simple phone calls to nearby suppliers left me with an extensive list of options. I began with the BMW stores but, as always, their prices caused me to reconsider, confirming my belief that BMW stands for ‘Break My Wallet’. The bearings I required, four in total, could all be found at a local specialist store for the same price that BMW wanted for one. All in all I was able to find everything I wanted for a third of the price that I had initially been quoted by the local BMW dealership. I then spent several days in Lynn’s garage dismantling my bike and slowly rebuilding it before taking it for several test rides. Once all the worn parts had been replaced it felt like a brand new machine and became a pleasure to ride once again, I’d almost forgotten how smooth it could feel to have everything working the way it should. This continent has been hard on the bike but it has out performed all of my expectations, handling the tough conditions with an ease that is only limited by my own questionable abilities. 

Time to play

It wasn’t all work and no play while in the city, Lynn introduced me to several charismatic members of the Exploration Society of Southern Africa (ESSA) and with them I had an opportunity to kayak on one of the local rivers just outside the city. Even though the water was low and it wasn’t the cleanest river I’ve ever been on it was great to be back in a boat, floating down a river in a kayak has always struck me as one of the most unique ways to experience a region and this was no exception. The days flew by and I soon realized that the thirty day visa I’d obtained at the border upon entering wasn’t going to be long enough, Lynn’s extensive knowledge of her home country soon had me thinking that there is much more to see than I had thought. When I’d first entered the country it had been late in the day after a tiring ride and the immigration officer had asked me how long I planned to stay. I’d asked for the maximum time allowed and he stamped my passport with a visa valid for one month but, some time later, a quick internet search revealed that Irish citizens are entitled to a maximum of 90 days. At the time I’d had no idea, this is the 38th country I’ve entered on this voyage and I certainly don’t know the regulations for each and every one, if an immigration officer tells me that the maximum stay is 30 days then I tend to believe them and plan accordingly. While in Johannesburg I made a quick visit to the local immigration department located in the heart of the notorious Central Business District (CBD) and was told by two senior officers that the only way to correct the mistake made by the border guard was to revisit the place I had crossed and exit the country. I’ve always had a strong desire to visit Lesotho but rumors of a military coup were making me revise my plans. With the refusal of the immigration officers to offer a more practical solution I resolved to rethink my decision and alter my route to include the ‘Kingdom in the Sky’.

No swimming for me

With all of the maintenance to the bike completed I decided it was time to move on but, a last minute phone call from a member of the ESSA group caused me to reconsider my next stop. One of their members had suffered an injury just before departing on a five day hike through the Hluhluwe-iMfolozi wildlife reserve and he was willing to sell me his place for half price. Opportunities like this do not come along often but I have retained the flexibility on this trip to seize them when they do arrive, I jumped at the chance to join the hike and set out for the east coast the following day. The ride to the coast took me through the Mpumalanga region and into Kwazulu-Natal. Avoiding the main highways I kept to the twisting back roads through rolling hills and fertile, sugarcane farmland, a thick haze filled the air as farmers burnt the last of the Winter’s growth in preparation for this years planting, it added an eery edge to the atmosphere as I passed by long forgotten battlefields from the Anglo-Boer wars. The ride took longer than I’d expected and it was after dark by the time I reached my destination. I spent a few days on the coast in the little town of St Lucia which lies within a unique world heritage site that contains five ecosystems home to over 90% of South Africa’s natural crocodile population. At night hippos roam the streets (I almost rear ended one on the motorcycle) and a healthy population of sharks inhabit the estuary so I decided to postpone my plans for a morning swim.

Unicorns do exist

After a few days the rest of the ESSA group arrived and we set off into the nature reserve for our five day ‘primitive’ trek. Carrying everything we needed in our backpacks we joined our local Zulu rangers, Nunu and Nantabela, and entered the untamed bush. Leaving behind our cell phones and watches we slipped into a peaceful rhythm of rising and sleeping with the sun, quietly walking through the park so as not to disturb the local wildlife. Hluhluwe-iMfolozi is Africa’s oldest wildlife reserve, established in 1895 to protect the Southern Black Rhino from extinction it has enabled its residents to thrive but the threat of poaching is still a major concern. Each day we would rise at dawn and follow our guide over the rough terrain, relying on his keen senses to help us spot the animals that were all around us. By noon, while the sun was at its hottest we would find shade, eat a simple lunch and rest until the air cooled, resuming our hike before finding a suitable camp for the night near the dry river bed. Digging several feet into the cool, damp sand would expose the ground water, filtered enough to drink untreated. As darkness fell a fire was started and our guides would begin preparing a a basic dinner as we rolled out our sleeping mats and prepared to sleep under the stars. Throughout the night we took it in turns to stand watch and keep the fire burning to discourage any nocturnal visitors from coming too close, on the third night, halfway through my shift, two male lions came within a hundred meters of our camp, one of them roaring loudly to announce his presence. The roar of a lion awakens something instinctual within all of us and several tense minutes went by before they finally moved along. The reserve is home to the Big 5, elephant, buffalo, lion, rhino and leopard and of these all but the leopard made an appearance on numerous occasions throughout our five days.

Lion prints next to mine

Returning to civilization afterwards took a little adjustment but the sense of serenity that had settled upon each of us is still with me. It will stand out as one of the highlights of my trip to date. I’d left my bike outside the park and was relieved to find it still standing when I returned, the park staff had warned me that elephants like to wander around the complex at night time causing all kinds of mischief. I packed my belongings onto the bike and took to the road headed roughly in the direction of the infamous Sani Pass which leads from South Africa into Lesotho. When I had shared my plans to enter Lesotho with a fellow traveler I received warnings not to underestimate the difficulty of entering via the route I had chosen. I found a quiet backpackers at the base of the pass to spend the night as poor weather had shrouded the mountains in thick cloud, if I was going to attempt this at least I wanted to enjoy the views. The Sani Pass climbs through the Drakensberg Mountains reaching a height of almost three thousand meters before piercing the border of the mountain kingdom of Lesotho. Finally the weather cleared and it was time to leave, with bright sunshine breaking through the clouds I put on my warmest gear and pointed my bike uphill. At the base of the pass I exited through the South African border post where they questioned whether or not my bike would make it to the top, leaving me feeling more apprehensive than I already was, how bad could it be? The dirt road got gradually steeper but the new rear tire I had fitted while in Johannesburg handled the loose gravel with ease providing me with spectacular views of the valley below. An hour after starting I was at the top feeling euphoric even as strong, bitterly cold winds pummeled the summit. 

Top of the Sani Pass

I found myself a strange land, a unique island of mountainous plateaus nestled in the middle of South Africa, a beautiful anomaly amidst a region of modernity, where locals lived in artfully constructed, round stone huts with thatched roofs and traveled on horse back wrapped in thick, warm, brightly colored, woolen blankets. In the east of the country the military coup that was taking place in the capital, Maseru, was virtually unheard of amongst the people I spoke to. I spent several days driving through the country, wild camping alongside crystal clear creeks, rising in the cold light of dawn to continue my slow progress west. Before I’d entered Lesotho a friend had asked if I had a GPS, they snorted derisively when I told them I didn’t possess one. It wasn’t too difficult to navigate though, there aren’t very many roads to chose from but asking directions proved to frustrating at times. At one point I was having trouble locating the town of Thaba-Tseka, I was sure I had the right road but on three occasions I asked a local how far it was, the first person I asked told me it was twelve kilometers, after an hour a stopped again, only to be told my destination was now twenty kilometers away and on the last occasion I was told it was thirty kilometers away. I eventually reached the town but it was only on the following day.  

Close encounters

I will return to South Africa via the western border of Lesotho, I’ve been invited on a four day canoe trip down the Orange River which borders Namibia. As my trip nears its end my emotions are mixed, like a coin flipped in the air, at times I want it to last forever but there are days when I feel ready to see it end. South Africa has changed since I was last here sixteen years ago. The noble ideals upon which the ANC swept to power have been gradually replaced with a kleptocracy, fattening the few at the expense of the many. Money intended to support and improve the country’s infrastructure disappears into the pockets of thieves and hypocrites until the pot runs dry and upturned hands are, once again, presented before the unscrupulous World Bank, the IMF and predatory foreign investors. The brave cadre of freedom fighters, or terrorists, depending on which side you supported, are strangely quiet and the current leadership maintains some questionable beliefs. The president, while defending a rape allegation from a HIV positive victim claimed that showering afterwards would prevent him from catching the virus. In a country racked by the plague of AIDS a senior health minister advised the general public that a diet of onions and sweet potatoes could help cure the disease. With leadership like this at the helm I can only wonder what course this country will take. For the chosen few conditions in this country have improved beyond their wildest dreams but, for the majority, little has changed.