Making Memories to Last a Lifetime

We had been in Luanda for nine days. Visiting this city had been an exciting and uplifting experience with the chaos of its roads and the energy-sapping humidity matched only by the friendliness and generosity of its people.

Strangely, one evening just before we left the city, we were sitting by the quayside when I realised that I was actually quite cool. And most of the mosquitoes had vanished. The President of the Naval Club came over for one of his regular chats and I commented on the sudden change. Yes, he said, winter in Angola is officially from 15^th May to 15^th September. Today was the 15^th May and the change was remarkable. A coincidence? Maybe….

The morning after our kamikaze drive back from Alexander´s Landrover workshop we decided we had had enough of city living and needed to escape to quieter things. As we were driving out of the Naval Club we met Jose, the Treasurer, and chatted to him for an hour or more about all the good and bad in Angola and exchanged contact details. It was another example of how open and engaging everyone here is and as we left we felt more than a little sadness to be leaving everyone behind.

But we still had to do battle with the Luanda traffic. We had to cross the entire city and find our way out inland towards the Kazangula Falls. It took well over two hours and how we managed to keep Henry the same shape I will never know! But eventually, bit by bit, minute by minute, the traffic eased, the roads became smaller and more rural and we were finally out of the mayhem.

Another three hours of slow-going over badly pot-holed roads and we had had enough for one day. We found a nearby wild camp on IOverlander which had good reviews and decided to head to it for an early stop. We were tired and frazzled from hours of difficult driving so when the sat nav couldn´t find a road to the camping spot we very nearly gave up. But we found it eventually, down a long, overgrown track. It was spacious and quiet but not especially picturesque.

Fine for one night though and I wasn´t complaining. But things weren´t right with James, he had done almost all of the driving for a while now as he tends to do most of the city driving, but that didn´t explain how low he was feeling. I was getting a little concerned.

We woke early the next day and made straight for the Kazangula Falls. It was only 100 km away so we were there early.

The Kazangula Falls are the second largest in Africa after Victoria Falls and a must-see on any trip to Angola. We had been very excited.

And they were spectacular

The whole place was full of local ´guides´ hoping to make a few dollars by taking tourists down to the bottom or guiding them across the rocks at the top. We just wanted to be left alone to explore on our own and had no intention of getting soaking wet at the bottom! So we ignored them as best we could.

But James´ ignoring was tinged with a little more irritation than I would have expected and his enjoyment of the Falls seemed a little subdued

Nevertheless we picked our way across the rocks

Until we were standing right at the top of the Falls looking straight down at the water crashing onto the rocks and the spray misting everything around us

It really was a beautiful sight

But after an hour or so we had seen all we wanted to see and were unsure where to go next. We had met a Swiss couple at the Naval Club and made a loose arrangement to meet them again at the nearby Pedras Negras rock formation. But I wanted to see the Kwanza Falls and maybe visit the Cangandala National Park, both of which were in the opposite direction. After a bit of discussion we decided to follow our own itinerary and headed east towards the Kwanza Falls.

It was only a short drive but when we arrived it was hard to see what there was to look at. There were a few small boys playing in the rocks but the falls themselves appeared to be very minor. I jumped out and the kids surrounded me, tugging at my t-shirt, telling me to follow them down a path away from what we thought were the Falls. I smiled and laughed with them and was inclined to follow them but then a grown up arrived and said he would guide me across the rocks to the Falls himself rather than risk my life with the kids!

I went back to talk to James but by now he was clearly not in a good way and his face was ashen. He told me to go on my own, he was starting to feel very unwell and he looked terrible.

I left him with the kids and followed my new guide

A few steps round a corner I caught a glimpse of the real Falls, not the little trickle we had assumed were them when we first arrived. I asked the guide to wait and ran back to James. I told him it looked as though it would be worth the effort to come with me but he just shook his head and stayed where he was.

For the next half an hour, my guide helped me to scramble up and down rocks, jump over rock pools and eventually make it to the perfect viewing point to see the immense rapids pouring down over towering rocks that are the Kwanza Falls

It was amazing

The noise was deafening

Water poured over every rock in every direction

Nearby, three local men were doing their washing

My guide only spoke Portuguese so everything he tried to tell me required hand gestures and notes on his mobile phone. So when I gestured to him that I was going to jump in for a swim the joke was a little lost in translation and he looked panic-stricken and almost grabbed me to stop me!

When we made it back to James and Henry the site that greeted me made me smile a broad smile

Ill as he was becoming, James had spent his time regaling the kids with stories of our travels and showing them photos and videos from West Africa and Namibia. They were enthralled and were climbing over each other to get a better look!

I paid my guide for his trouble but as I was getting back into Henry some of the kids gestured asking for some food. We had both had such a lovely time with them we could hardly refuse.

I climbed into the back and searched through our food drawer. We had recently stocked up on bits and pieces we could give to the local children so they were in luck. I took out a handful of biscuit bars and one of the children made a grab for them. I pulled them away and told him off. Mortified at his own bad behaviour he stepped back and looked down at his feet. The guide said something to the children in Portuguese and they all lined up at the back door in a quiet and orderly queue.

One by one they came up and took their gift – most got a biscuit bar, some an apple or an orange. All of them were pleased and grinned as they started eating. There were about fifteen of them so it took a long time.

Again I got into the front seat but before I could close the door another boy came up and asked whether we might have anything to draw with. In fact we still had two boxes of crayons which we hadn´t given out yet so with a roll of eyes from James I again climbed into the back and fished them out.

This time the boys didn´t need telling, they quietly queued up at the back door. I shook out a number of crayons and told them they could choose two colours each. And they did. They very politely came up, chose their crayons, said thank you and went away. After the last child had had their gift the guide asked if he too could have a crayon to write with – smiling I gave him his choice of colour as well.

It had been a lovely day, the children had been a real highlight and the waterfalls were both wonderful. We drove on for only a few minutes to a quarry to camp up for the night

By the time we arrived James was very ill. He had a headache that he said was the worst he had ever felt, he felt very sick and by the time we went to bed he had started shaking with fever. I watched over him for an hour or so, terrified at the spectre of malaria which always hangs over us but had now suddenly become an immediate and very real concern. And it was Saturday night – the next day was Sunday and we had no idea where urgent medical help could be found in Angola on a Sunday.

After a restless night of little sleep and much worry, I have never been so pleased to find James had woken up with a streaming nose and hacking cough! Neither are symptoms of malaria, just the flu. Nevertheless we were determined to get him a malaria test as soon as we could find an open pharmacy just in case.

Despite the relief, James was still very ill. His head was aching along with the rest of his body, his nose was streaming and he felt decidedly grim. The roads to the national park we had hoped to visit were bad and deteriorating quickly and we had 35km of it before we got there. So all in all we decided to give it up and turn around.

Instead we headed for the Pedras Negras rocks, another of Angola´s main attractions. As we were driving up the road into the reserve we came across a broken down mini bus on the side of the road and all the passengers were walking. Two police officers were amongst them and one of them flagged us down. I wound down the window and he leaned in demanding that we give the two of them a lift to the reserve. We pointed out that we had no seats and he pushed his head further into the window to look at the back. Yes you have room, he said, we will sit in the back. His face was right in my face and he held two fingers up in a V sign saying just two of us. I was annoyed at his attitude and worried that they would scratch and dent Henry´s insides with their big boots and guns – they didn´t look the type to take care. James left the decision to me and I said no, we had no room.

As we drove away the policeman called us a very unpleasant name and James suggested that might not have been the best choice, afterall they were walking in our direction and we had hoped to camp at the rocks overnight.

As we were approaching the rocks the views were spectacular

But when we arrived at the reserve itself we struggled to find what the place was all about. We drove down a few dead ends then back to the centre which appeared to be an abandoned old town with a derelict school and other buildings. As we approached the main parking area we saw a man standing waving at us with a big smile on his face. As we pulled up and wound the window down we realised it was the Welsh couple we had met in the posh supermarket in Luanda a week or more ago – they had recognised Henry and been amazed at the coincidence.

We jumped out and went to greet them. They were with four British friends, all of whom worked together in Luanda and were on a week-end away to visit some of Angola´s top sites

They were all fascinated by Henry and our travels. We were invited to join their lunch – bread, meats, cheeses, chocolate brownie and more. I dug in but James wasn´t up to eating.

As we chatted with them the two police officers arrived. James and I were concerned as to what sort of reception we would get but the one who had been so aggressive simply greeted all of us with a big smile and a shake of the hand. We relaxed a little.

The group were about to leave but were keen to help us on our way. They offered to give us whatever we needed but as ever storage was an issue and we couldn´t accept much. In the end they gave us a bottle of Angolan gin, a lovely bottle of red wine and two big chunks of fabulous, proper, European cheese – something that is almost impossible to get anywhere in Southern Africa. They made a friend for life!

We decided to head for one of the wild camp spots around the rocks which had good reviews on IOverlander and that meant going out of the main parking area. We drove behind the group of friends who were all allowed out without any problem. As soon as we got to the gate the aggressive police officer put bollards across our way and came to our window demanding money to be let out. We refused, pointing out he had not charged our friends. He didn´t care, he wanted money from us. I jumped out and removed the bollards as he shouted and blustered at me. By the time James had driven Henry through, the police officer was practically foaming at the mouth shouting in Portuguese that we could not do that. I smiled sweetly and put the bollards back in place. To my amazement the police officer smiled broadly back, put his thumbs up and wandered off…..

We found our camping spot easily and wandered around our home for the night looking at footprints in the rock apparently left by some ancient king and queen

James put the drone up to survey the area.

As I wandered about I found a rock that looked easy to drive up onto a large, flat plateau. It was more private from the road and, importantly, from the grumpy police officer!

So we drove up and settled ourselves down for the evening.

Just as we were getting dinner started another car pulled up and we were delighted to see it was the Swiss couple we had met a few days ago. We were at the Pedras Negras three days later than expected so had assumed they had been and gone, but apparently they too had been delayed by meeting a group of Toyota enthusiasts who had adopted them and taken them to their farm for a couple of nights.

We spent a peaceful and beautiful night at the rocks and with four of us the concern that the grumpy police officer would return and try his luck again was long forgotten.

We had originally planned to carry on north all the way up to the border with the DRC to see the Congo River and try and find some ancient ruins. But no-one seemed to know anything about the ruins and there wasn´t much else up that far other than increasing heat and humidity, more mosquitoes and a higher malaria risk. So all in all we decided to stick to our philosophy that we travel to enjoy ourselves not to make our lives into a mission and so started the long journey back down south towards Namibia.

Whilst we had travelled north hugging the coast we were going to go back south further inland to see more of the country. Having said that, our next stop was going to be back to the town of Quibala to revisit the Catholic Mission we had missed out on a few days ago. Other travellers had told us about the kindness of the monks, being invited to join them for dinner and songs and we were very keen to share in such a unique experience.

The journey could take us anywhere from 3 to 6 hours depending on which sat nav we believed. In the end, after just half an hour of deep potholes, the road was fantastic

On the way we saw evidence of the Chinese investment in Angola. They fund roads and other infrastructure but have also littered the country with bizarre hotels, all white or pink

They are strange because they are just facades – empty shells built to look perfect from the outside but used for nothing. Possibly an investment for the future when tourism takes off here but who knows.

Following such a long, straight, perfect tarmac road we made it in just over three hours and arrived at the Catholic Mission by mid afternoon which was much more suitable than last time. We were greeted by three friendly monks who were happy for us to camp with them

We were shown a toilet and shower we could use along with a tap of remarkably clean water.

We set up camp but were slightly disappointed to be left alone with no-one around to chat to. By early evening we decided to start cooking dinner but just as we served and were about to eat, two of the monks came over in full dress and invited us to dine with them. There was a bit of language confusion as we tried to explain that we had already cooked for ourselves but eventually we agreed that we would join them for breakfast at 7am the next morning instead.

As we sat eating our food we heard the monks in the their dining room singing and praying and were gutted to have missed out.

A very friendly, and very pregnant, little cat softened the blow though as she ate through a whole chicken breast and purred around our legs for the rest of the evening. The monks came round again after dinner offering us a room for the night. We showed them the inside of Henry with the bed and all our home comforts. They were fascinated, wished us a peaceful night and left us to sleep.

The next morning I decided not to train – partly because breakfast was early but also because I wasn´t sure how appropriate it would be to leap around in lycra in the middle of a monastery! The little cat came back for more cuddles and at ten to seven we headed towards the dining room. It was all locked up but we heard the monks in the church saying their prayers. We wandered around listening to them and exploring the mission.

Eventually, at just after 7am, they came to collect us for breakfast. The dining room was spartan and breakfast was lemon tea, bread and honey. We ate initially in silence as the language barrier made things difficult but bit by bit the conversation started to flow, helped by one individual who spoke enough English to be able to translate for us. They were all fascinated by our travels and our stories of Henry and we shared views on Africa, Europe and the UK. They were lovely, gentle, kind people full of humour and laughter.

After breakfast they asked to take some photos of us all together

And there was mention of some puppies recently born which they took us to see. Sadly I didn´t take any photos but trust me, they were very cute!

They gave us some Angolan chocolate and we gave them some beer, some Cadbury´s chocolate and some drawing books and crayons for them to give to the local children.

As we drove away we felt a great sense of peace with the world.

We stopped off in Quibala town to stock up on data and to get James his malaria test at a pharmacy. He was negative, thank goodness!

As I was walking out of the chemist I had a 200 Kwanza coin in my hand from the change. I was looking at it wondering what to do with it as it was worth about 35p but was large and heavy. Just at that moment a young boy walked past and greeted me with a smile, he was selling things out of a wheel barrow. I looked at him, looked at my coin, shrugged and gave it to him. He took it with huge surprise. I smiled and walked away but when I looked back he was still standing there staring at me with the coin in his hand. I called back ´Obrigado´ which technically means thank-you but is also used to say ´you´re welcome´. He grinned, picked up his wheel barrow and walked back to his friends.

We headed towards the city of Huambo, the old colonial capital. Yet again the road was jaw-droppingly beautiful with mountains

A few people walking alongside

And rivers gently flowing beside us

Much of the road was bordered by towering yellow flowers of some kind which were quite dramatic

Most of the time we seemed to be the only people around

But this was not the only accident we came across, reinforcing just how easy it is to lose control when people, animals and enormous pot holes all share the roads with you

Once we reached Huambos we found a city full of beautiful architecture, As ever some was lovely

But others very run down. We drove around for a while and stocked up on food at a very modern supermarket.

We also filled up with fuel and found that the tuk tuk taxis are willing to accommodate a variety of different guests!

But the traffic was heavy and, architecture aside, it was still a big city and we had already spent a lot of time in Luanda. So we didn´t stay around but rather headed to the outskirts and a church on a hill where we hoped we could camp.

There was, however, much excitement as we drove through the city – our baby has grown up!

A big milestone. When we left for this trip in 2021 Henry had 65,000 miles on his clock. So we have officially driven 35,000 miles so far since starting on this adventure and Henry is now in sextuple figures which, I believe, makes him the Landrover equivalent of a teenager! He certainly behaves like one at times!

Finding the church wasn´t difficult but when we arrived it didn´t look ideal with no obvious place to camp up. It was late in the afternoon though and we were in no mood to drive aimlessly around the outskirts of a city looking for anywhere else. The security guards looked surprised to see us and there was a little difficulty in getting them to understand that we wanted to camp overnight. But they were happy enough to let us park up and, we think, told us that the Padre would be back soon.

The Padre came round to see us an hour or so later after we had set up and were about to cook dinner. He spoke good English and chatted to us about our travels. He asked where we prayed whilst we were moving around so much – a difficult question to answer when we didn´t want to get thrown out. He invited us to visit the church the next morning and we gladly accepted his offer.

The spot was not quiet or remote, there were lots of people around, mainly the security guards and their families. They didn´t give us a great deal of personal space, we woke early the next morning to find people walking right by our windows, but they were friendly and broadly left us alone.

I did have an audience whilst training the next day though, two or three of the security guards stood watching, seemingly a little confused as to what I was doing. I wondered whether my cat stretches might have looked like prayers….

Once I had finished I wandered over and asked them about the berries and nuts spread out on the floor that they were tending. They told me the name and showed me how they prepared them.

Later in the morning we walked up the hill to see the church, which was lovely

And had a fantastic view over the landscape

After a relaxed morning we set off for the Cacanda region a little further south. We weren´t sure exactly what we would find there but it was supposed to be a beautiful region with mountains and waterfalls.

The roads out of Huamba quickly disappeared and became dirt tracks – it looked as though another new road was being built

There was no marked detour and we found ourselves guessing at where we were supposed to go, generally following any locals, whether walking or driving! We came to a small town and the road disappeared altogether. We weaved our way round local roads trying to find our way out on something that looked like a main road. Some children saw us struggling and jumped up and down pointing and gesturing which way we should go.

Eventually we popped out onto a wide, straight dirt road that appeared to be broadly in the direction we wanted to go so we followed it

We bumped up and down over rocks and ruts, picking our way slowly over the worst parts

Looking at the map, we seemed to be at about the same latitude as we were when we were driving from Benguela to Lobito and the tarmac road had turned into a terrible, barely passable dirt road. It seems that Angola has tarred the north and the south but not yet joined them up – the roads here being more for pedestrians than cars….

The whole area was as beautiful as the rest of the country, however we didn´t find anything in particular to go and see so we decided to press on and head straight back to Lubango where we had previously visited the Tundavela Gap and Serra de Leba.

Enroute we stumbled across a canyon stretching out in front of us. We veered off the main road and picked our way towards it

As with everything here, this could be a major tourist attraction but is, in fact, just a beautiful natural wonder open for everyone to admire and enjoy

It was a long road and as we drove I found myself musing on the atmosphere and culture of this country that we had come to love so much. Everything here, as with most of Africa, is so different from the culture we come from and to a large extent it is simpler, easier and more real.

And it certainly gets under your skin and into your bones. After a while the way of life here feels normal and comfortable but I was thinking to myself how impossible it is to describe it or bring it to life unless you have immersed yourself in it first hand.

Kids walking to school carrying their own chairs

The ever present tuk tuk taxis carrying people of all shapes and sizes

The ubiquitos blue minibuses, the posher way to travel!

Or just jumping on whatever form of transport will let you cling to the back

For the first time since we arrived in Morocco nearly two years ago it struck me that we would leave Africa at some point and my heart surged with a pang of sadness and grief that surprised even me. Something makes this continent pull us all back time and time again

And right now, as we drove with the sounds and smells of Africa all around us, I couldn´t imagine ever trying to leave.

The drive to Lubango was too far for one day so we camped up in a forest off the main road. It took a bit of driving around to find somewhere far enough away from the road and flat enough to sleep and we had to search around for rocks to put under Henry´s wheels to level him up. But once we were settled it was actually very nice

A few locals walked past but simply raised their hands in greeting and left us in peace. James was still feeling very unwell so we had a quick dinner of bacon and eggs and an early night.

We made it to Lubango the next day and decided to try the Serra de Leba again

This time we learned from our previous mistake and made it to the viewpoint. It was well worth a second visit, from here you could see the whole pass twisting and turning through the mountain

It was quite spectactular

There were two young boys in the parking area selling tiny little birds in a cage and peanuts. They looked bedraggled and skinny so we gave them all our bread which they tucked into their pockets for later.

We put the Go Pro on the bonnet and headed down the pass itself. This time we weren´t so lucky with the lorries but it was actually quite fun overtaking them on the bends – we could see so far down the pass we weren´t in any danger.

Looking at the map, we could see that if we turned right shortly after completing the pass we would come round in a big loop back to Lubango and from there could go back up to see the Tundvela Gap should we want to. Either way, from Lubango we could continue further south towards the border.

So we set off round the loop heading for one or two possible wild camping spots listed on IOverlander. The whole drive was breath-taking, the views across the desert and the mountains were gorgeous.

But the first wild camp didn´t exist and when we arrived at the second we found that a high curb had been built between the road and the plateau making it impossible even for Henry to get up.

We were tired, it had been a wonderful but very long day, and we were in the middle of nowhere with no way off the main road. So I consulted the maps and IOverlander and came to the conclusion that our only option was to press on all the way to Lubango and out the other end towards the Tundvela Gap. It would take around an hour and a half but there were so many options for wild camping there we knew it was a safe bet. And right now what we needed most was a safe bet!

We settled in for the long drive, successfully negotiated the busy roads of Lubango and eventually found ourselves back on the high, mountain road towards the Tundvela Gap.

The spot we had chosen said it was down a small track just before the main tourist sign for the Gap. We found it easily and followed it towards the cliff edge.

As we approached it we had a decision to make – do we camp up somewhat in view of the road with no obvious shelter, or do we carry on down a steep, rocky path to the very edge. It didn´t feel comfortable where we were so we risked the drive down the drop.

It wasn´t as hard as it looked and once we had found our spot it was absolutely perfect

No-one could see us from any angle but we had the most magnificent view across the mountains.

At over 2,200m high, it was finally and mercifully cool – for the first time in nearly a year we needed our thick fleeces later in the evening and it felt wonderful! The height and the cooler temperatures also meant there wasn´t a single mosquito – or any other flies – anywhere to be seen.

In accordance with my previous comments on campsites, there was one downside – this time is was a lack of anywhere flat! We managed to level Henry more or less so sleeping was fine, but trying to set out the table and chairs was almost impossible and there was no way I was going to find anywhere to train here.

But we didn´t care, we were in paradise.

In fact we loved it so much that we decided to stay another night. After a few long days of driving it was lovely to have a whole day going nowhere, reading, writing the blog, doing little housekeeping things on Henry and generally relaxing for once.

And I even had to dig my thick trousers out of storage it was that chilly, it was bliss!

And whilst we were there we just had to go back to the Tundavela Gap itself and take another look at those amazing views….

We had spent nearly four weeks in Angola and loved pretty much every minute of it, even our frantic time in Luanda. But we were now very close to the Namibian border again and, with only four days left on our visas, that didn´t leave us much time to explore any further.

So it was time to leave our Angolan adventure behind and head back to the place that was beginning to feel more and more like home.

To bring our time here full circle we decided to head back to our Giant Baobab tree for our final night. It looked very familiar and we settled back into our old spot.

There were far fewer people passing this time. We could hear them further upriver and wondered whether the water was now easier to gather elsewhere due to the onset of winter. One guy did pass by and stopped to chat. We gave him a beer which he drank whilst looking Henry over then gave James the empty bottle back with thanks.

We were revisiting all the places we had seen right at the start of our journey here and it seemed quite poignant as we said goodbye all these weeks later.

We decided to avoid the madness of the Santa Clara border and head instead for the quiet and remote Ruacana border. That meant a drive through the middle of nowhere to the Ruacana dam which the sat nav said would take around 3.5 hours.

The roads were terrible and James was exhausted and still feeling very ill. To make matters worse I had also started to feel decidedly unwell.

In the end it took over six hours to reach the border by which time we were both feeling drained.

But the landscape was worth every hard mile

And the reservoir and dam were very impressive

We had identified two or three options for wild camping on the Angolan side of the border, planning to make an early start the next day to fight our way through the bureaucracy.

But none of them were possible – one was in the middle of a village and the others were either inaccessible or too open.

So, towards the end of the afternoon, a time when most right-minded people would not even contemplate crossing an international border, we decided we had little choice but to risk it.

At first there was no-one around at all at the Angola border. We wandered around aimlessly trying to find someone to help before eventually someone came running towards us looking a little flustered. It took about ten minutes to stamp us out with a smile.

We then headed across to the Namibian border and were thrilled to find all the signs in English and the border guards talking to us in a language that we actually understood! Life started to feel easier again. We were stamped back into Namibia efficiently and quickly, Henry was given a quick once-over and we were welcomed back.

We drove away from the border towards a nearby campsite with smiles on our faces. Angola was spectacular, stunning in every way. We had enjoyed our time there more than we could ever had hoped and had blown a few travelling cobwebs away.

But we had returned to a place that felt familiar, that felt right. To the place where we belonged and that kept pulling us back time and time again….Namibia!