With the UniMog safely at South Cave Tractors and the habitation box under construction, there was only one thing left for us to do – get to Namibia and meet our flights back to the UK to start work.
We had been on the road non-stop for just over a week, driving an average of 400km a day and crossing international borders like pros. We had finally made it to the Zambian border – marking the end of east Africa and the start of southern Africa.
I recalled being very concerned about the Zambia border the first time we entered the country almost a year ago, and had spent days researching and preparing for it. In the end it didn´t seem too bad. This time I gave it no thought whatsoever until we arrived then remembered it was supposed to be hard! I hoped that we knew enough this time to make it relatively straight forward.
I hoped wrong. We were entering Zambia at the Chipata border with Malawi which is the usual border that most people will use between the two countries. It is modern and well organised – in theory it should have been easy. But for one problem.
In order to get Henry into the country we needed to pay for his road tax and temporary import permit in cash in Zambian Kwacha but you can´t get Kwacha until you´re in the country. Unusually, there are no banks or exchange desks at this border. So how do you pay? They won´t take cards nor will they take any other currency. We asked everyone from the security guards to the border police to the people behind the desks. Everyone said the same thing – use the black market traders hanging around outside. I asked one police officer what we should do if we did not want to exchange money illegally – he suddenly looked worried and confused but had no answer. There was no answer.
Inevitably the rate the black market traders were offering was outrageous but we were stuck. We tried for two hours to find a different way but there was no other option. In the end we had to illegally change every last Malawian Tambala we had with us into Zambian Kwacha and even then only just had enough to get us through the border – I think we ended up with three Kwacha left, the equivalent of about 8p!
But at least we were through – exhausted but finally able to find our campsite and get some rest.
Chipata seemed like a big town with three large and very familiar supermarkets – ShopRite, Spar and Choppies. Supermarkets like these had become an exciting luxury these days so we were a little disappointed that we didn´t need anything.
We arrived at the campsite tired and hungry. It was fine but nothing special although the staff were very friendly and helpful. We made a quick vegetable pasta for dinner and were asleep by 8:30pm.
The trip was starting to take its toll and neither of us woke up until 6am the next morning – we´d had nearly 10 hours of sleep and felt a lot better. With no borders to worry about, we decided to take it easy today and took our time making omelettes for breakfast.
We left at 10am and had around 340km to drive to our next stop.
We had enjoyed southern Zambia last time we were here, only falling out of love with the country when we got north of Lusaka. We had deliberately entered from Malawi in the south for this reason and it had been a good decision.
We had no trouble from the police at all, the roads were good and there were noticeably fewer people around than in the highly-populated Malawi
Everywhere was dry and dusty and so different from Tanzania and Malawi – but I thought it was beautiful
We were excited to see bags of charcoal for sale on the side of the road, something that had become so familiar over the last couple of years but which we hadn´t seen at all since entering East Africa
Not that we wanted charcoal! It was just a sign that we were returning to what we knew.
We had arrived at our next campsite by late afternoon. We were close to the Mozambique border near the Lower Zambezi and it was lovely
The campsite was run by a lady called Precious who went out of her way to make us feel welcome
She had a look at the sting on the palm of my hand from the campsite in Malawi and suspected that it was from a tsetse fly. That didn´t make me feel any better!
We relaxed for an hour or so before James decided to clean Henry and top up his clutch fluid whilst I went up to the lounge area to try and deal with the shipping of our UniMog box from Canada.
I was up early again the next day and decided to do my training in the kitchen chalet. It was pitch black when I started and I watched the sun come up over Henry, realising that we were back in a part of the world where I felt contended and at peace
I took endless photos, trying in some way to keep a part of southern Africa with me forever
We were heading for the capital, Lusaka, today. As we drove it was very noticeable that there were no bananas being sold on the side of the road, in fact very little fruit at all – we had become used to bananas being everywhere and an abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables in general. It was a reminder of the much drier and harsher environment here in the more arid south.
Our first stop in Lusaka was Dan´s place, our wonderful mechanic who had replaced Henry´s shock absorbers almost a year ago. He remembered us and was very chatty and friendly. The new clutch master cylinder went in with no problems and finally Henry was back up to full speed again.
We found a ShopRite and filled our cupboards with familiar brands of everything under the sun then set off for the Lukasa campsite on the other side of the city.
When we arrived, the owners remembered Henry but not us – not much of a surprise, Henry does tend to stand out. We remembered this place as being friendly, clean and comfortable and were not disappointed. Everything just worked, there was hot water, plenty of space and a lovely, green garden
We spent the evening on a call with Allan from Off Grid Customs looking at the latest progress with our UniMog box – things were coming together nicely but it was another reminder of just how short our time was here in Africa and how much was about to change.
Whilst I tried to cling on to our last few days here, Henry was taking us faster and faster towards the end of the road. We hurtled out of Lusaka the next morning and didn´t stop until we reached Livingstone – a massive 478km over rough roads without a break. We had now driven almost 3,000km since leaving Arusha and the Serengeti and we could have been on a different planet.
We were exhausted and aching from the endless hours of sitting in a Landrover. I got a migraine halfway through the day and we ate our lunch on the roadside in weary silence.
But Livingstone was another place that we had not managed to visit on our first visit to Zambia and another great bonus of our road trip. A bonus because Livingstone is the home of a very famous waterfall…
We had seen Victoria Falls a number of times from the Zimbabwean side but never from the Zambian side. Many people say it is even more beautiful from here and I had always wanted to go.
We camped up in the car park of a lodge and had another early night. We were, at least, going to spend two nights in the same place for a change but we suspected it would take more than that to stop our heads from spinning.
In the pre-dawn hours, as I trained on the lawn, I heard a shuffling noise coming from the leaves by my feet. I peered intently wondering what was under there. I couldn´t see anything so carried on with a few lunges but as I put my foot down I narrowly missed my new friend
He sat and peered at me as I was peering at him then riveted once and hopped off leaving me smiling to myself.
Today we were having a rest day. We had a leisurely breakfast then headed off to the Victoria Falls national park which, apparently, was a long way from anywhere!
We bought our tickets and made our way down the winding path towards the Falls with much excitement.
And we found to our delight that everything people say about the view from this side is right, we got a completely new perspective
It was magnificent
We saw a small boat in the river at the foot of the falls
It was tourist pleasure boat full of crazy people daring the rapids
We wandered along the path alongside the deep ravine savouring every moment. We ambled into the forest and followed every winding pathway we could find. In fact we did absolutely everything we could to make our visit last forever
I never wanted it to end. Tomorrow we were going to be at the Namibian border and, whilst that was where I wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world, it also signified the last leg of our journey, the last leg of our African adventure – and I couldn´t bear it.
As we walked back down the path alongside the Falls heading towards the car park I stood still and closed my eyes. I thought to myself over and over again – I´m still here, I´m still here, whatever happens in the future, right now I´m still standing at Victoria Falls listening to the water crashing down, I´m still in Africa, I´m still where I belong
The road from Livingstone to the Namibian border is perfect, smooth tar for about 100km
And then it isn´t!
For the next 90km we slowly bumped along a heavily corrugated, deeply rutted dirt road that hurt our backs and gave us neck ache and a headache. It felt as though it would never end.
The occasional lorry lumbered past, throwing up dust clouds so that we could hardly see
Some part of me was pleased that our progress had slowed down. I stared out of the window watching the stunning scenery go by
We were travelling along the border with Zimbabwe, another of our favourite countries, and seeing the spectacular landscape all around us, feeling encapsulated by countries that we loved so much, made the bad roads seem insignificant
All of a sudden, just 40km from the Namibian border, we hit smooth tarmac again and before we knew it we were there
I strained out of the window to see across the border, my heart in my mouth. The border crossing was quick, efficient and friendly. As we drove out of the gates and onto the perfect road stretching for hundreds of miles ahead of us I had tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat
We were home.
We had entered Namibia at the far eastern end of the Caprivi Strip, 500km from ´mainland´ Namibia. The Caprivi Strip is a long, thin finger of land, criss-crossed by five rivers – the Okavango, the Kwando, the Chobe, the Linyati and the Mighty Zambezi. It is an area rich in wildlife where we have previously spent a number of days surrounded by elephant, hippo and crocodile not to mention more birds than you can imagine.
But this is also Namibia and from the moment we crossed the border there was one thing very obviously missing…..people.
Namibia is the fourth least populate country in the world after Greenland, Mongolia and the Faulkland Islands. In most of Africa one thing you will never fail to see is people – walking along the road, ploughing their fields, selling their wares, sitting together and chatting under trees.
As we drove down the smooth, straight, tarmac road towards our first Namibian campsite all we saw was this….
For hours!
One other thing you can be sure of in Namibia is the cost of everything. Or at least the cost of everything connected with tourism. We had found a campsite not too far from the border but been unable to make contact with anyone to book ahead. It had fantastic reviews but was almost double the cost of any campsite we had stayed in since leaving northern Tanzania – but still one of the cheapest in the area.
It was also quite tough to find but we made it eventually, found they had plenty of space for us and fell immediately in love with it
It was just perfect, we were back to feeling like we were on holiday again! A clean, spacious and private pitch. Our own private ablutions – common in Namibia, almost unheard of anywhere else
And our own, private, well looked after kitchen area
We were given a cow bell to keep with us whilst we camped just in case of emergency – one ring of the bell and we were assured that someone would come running to rescue us from whatever wild animal was threatening us.
We smiled as we took it, amused at the irony – we had never felt so safe and comfortable anywhere in our lives.
We wandered over to the viewing area to look out over the Kwando river with a glass of wine
And spent the evening just sitting looking out at the world around us, watching the sun go down and wishing with all my heart that we never had to leave
The next morning it was cold, only 9 degrees when I got up, but at least the mosquitoes agreed with me and stayed away whilst I trained.
The camp staff lit the donkey early so we had beautiful, warm showers, dragging our feet and wasting as much time as we could before we had to set off for the large town of Rundu 400km away.
We had been in Namibia for nearly 24 hours and had not yet been able to get a SIM card. Our old one had expired from lack of use and Namibia had recently introduced stricter rules for purchasing SIM cards requiring registration. Rundu was the first place where we would be able to get one and get ourselves back online.
The drive was fabulous, there were no people, no cars, just never-ending peace and beauty all around us.
Rundu, however, is a rather busy, run down town in the northern region of Namibia known as Ovamboland. As far as there are people in Namibia, most of them are here in the north and it is not quite as idyllically trouble-free as the rest of the country. I felt very aware of this but even Rundu is quiet and slow-paced by normal standards in any other part of the world.
We stopped at a shopping centre and I headed for the MCN mobile phone shop whilst James went to try and buy some antimalarial tablets from the pharmacy – we had spent so long in Africa on this leg that our stocks had nearly run out. We learnt a valuable lesson that day – the tablets cost a twentieth of the cost in the UK, never again will we stock up in Europe and take them with us to malarial countries!
At the MCN store I found queues of people waiting to be served. Rows of seats were all taken up and many people were standing. I asked the security guard whether I needed to take a number or just wait and he shoved a few people along on one of the seating areas and gestured for me to sit. It wasn´t until a few minutes later that I realised he had jumped me halfway up the queue. No-one seemed to mind too much but I felt very conspicuous.
About half an hour later I was asked to hand my passport over, as others were asked to hand over their Namibian identity cards, and a few minutes after that I was ushered to a desk to be dealt with. I am sure I had been queue-jumped again and this time not everyone was looking too pleased!
The lady at the desk started to fill in my application form and asked me the usual questions – name, passport number, date of birth. Then she asked me what tribe I was from. I was flummoxed. I thought about it for a few seconds and she was looking at me with a combination of expectation and confusion – what was the problem madam? I told her that in Europe we don´t really have tribes and I wasn´t sure how to answer the question. She looked quite surprised and suggested she just put down British. I said that would probably be ok and a few minutes later I had my new SIM card.
We drove on for about an hour and a half to a campsite that I had found marked on Google. We knew little about it and when we arrived it turned out to be closed for renovation. The lovely owners were very kind but said that there were really no other campsites open in the near vicinity. As it was already well after 6pm and getting dark they offered to let us stay anyway.
They showed us down a steep, bumpy path to a beautiful garden alongside the Cubango river where we were welcomed to set up camp.
It was so quiet and peaceful and with no light pollution anywhere, the sky was full of glittering stars
And the river looked stunning
James had done most of the driving today and was too tired to appreciate the place to its full extent. He was in bed and asleep before 8pm. I tried to sit up and read for a while but I could hear something large moving around in the dark by the trees so was not far behind him.
The clocks go forward an hour between Namibia and Angola and the Cubango river is the border between the two countries. So our phones kept switching between Namibian time and Angolan time depending on which mobile phone mast they locked onto – and we were never sure which one it was. So I managed to get up at 4:30am instead of 5:30am and start my training expecting the sun to come up in a few minutes only to find that it was still pitch black by the time I´d finished! And the noises of the river were no less eery early in the morning than they had been the previous night.
After saying goodbye to our lovely hosts and giving their four newborn puppies a cuddle, we jumped back into Henry and started off on yet another long day of driving. We had nearly 500km to go but by the end of the day we would have finished our mammoth road trip and arrived safely with our wonderful friends, Theuns and Thea. We had been looking forward to this day for many weeks, it had been nearly a year since we had seen them and they are a big part of our love of Namibia.
By the time we arrived it was early afternoon and we were utterly, bone-wearingly shattered. We had driven over 4,000km over mostly rough and bumpy roads in 13 days, crossed four international borders and had to deal with a damaged master cylinder. We had crossed the tropics, the sub-tropical savannahs and the desert. We were covered in dust and dirt, our bones were aching and our heads were ringing.
So we fell into the arms of our friends exhausted but elated. Finally, we were here
We were washed, fed and looked after for three wonderful days. The first evening I think we were surviving on adrenaline – the excitement of being with them keeping us going. The next two days were more of a blur with everything catching up with us
Their son, Heinrich was there as was their daughter Monique and her young family. We visited with everyone and I was thoroughly spoilt on the second evening with chocolate cake and a braai as an early birthday celebration
Just as we were starting to feel more human again it was time to go. I could barely drag myself away and Thea and I had little cry together as we hugged. I had looked forward to being with them for so long, I could hardly believe we were leaving already. I would have given anything to stay a few more days. We had no idea when we would see each other again, we just knew that we would – nothing was going to keep us away for very long.
It was a colossal 675km to Windhoek but the road was smooth, straight and tarmac all the way. It was a joy to be driving down it. We stopped at the town of Tsumeb to meet up with a friend of Kobus and Marissa who wanted us to send him a Landrover part from the UK. It was good to be in the familiar town again and everything was starting to feel very homely as we headed south into the centre of the country.
We arrived in Windhoek by late afternoon and I was overcome with emotion as the small and quiet capital city surrounded us. We had spent so long here and knew it so well, I felt overwhelmed by the sense of coming home. We went straight to our beloved Urban Camp where Kristi and the team were waiting for us. I cannot describe or explain my feelings as I climbed out of Henry and went into the restaurant area to check-in, it felt as though we had been away from home for so long and were finally back where we belonged
The first person I saw was Pam who gave me a big hug. Then I saw Kristi across the bar and she came running over with another big hug, grinning from ear to ear. Many of the other staff smiled in recognition but I was disappointed to find that Esme was not there – although her absence was due to maternity leave which was amazing news.
James joined me and the hugs went round again.
We stood there, surrounded by friends, surrounded by everything that we knew and loved here in our beloved Namibia.
I realised then and there that you can take the girl out of Africa but you will never take Africa out of the girl. We may have had only a few days left in this wonderful country but this was far from the end of our story here – very far indeed….
The Sidetracked Sagas 