Another few challenging days! We collected Connor (15 year old grandson) from Stockholm's Arlandia airport, which entailed a half hour bus ride then a 2 hour fast train direct to the airport, all very efficient. Connor had made a long long trip in - Johannesburg to Dubai, a layover, then Dubai to Stockholm, so he was looking pretty bleary and saw nothing of the Swedish scenery from behind closed eye lights on the return journey! However, he perked up on arrival at the boat, got moved in and claimed the pilot berth immediately. "My man-cave," he exclaimed in delight. Everything stowed, we had our first dinner together, salmon with new potatoes, then a trip to the famed Sodekoping ice-cream shop for dessert - 67 choices, each larger than the last!
We had our first full day in the Canal Sunday - 10 locks cleared, including two which were 3 gates in one. Definitely understand why this came to be called the Divorce Ditch - it can get fairly tense, to say the least. Especially when you're in a lock with a group of charter motor boats, who have no frigging idea what to do, so their boats are constantly swinging back into you or across the entire lock because they haven't tied on properly!
Anyway, we tried a combination of allotted tasks - John helmed, while either both Connor and I jumped ashore to take the lines, or later on the locks that were close together (some a 100 metres or so apart, the 3-gate one following on from each other) one or the other of us stayed ashore while the other stayed on board to thrown the lines up - worked better that way I have to say.
These are definitely not little UK type locks - these are vast 3m high raises, and the water churns in, demanding a careful watch on the lines to keep the bow pointing forward and not swinging across the lock! After coming through the last lock today, we have climbed 23m above sea level - only another 70m to go up before we start going down again - quite a feat of engineering, to say the least!
At one stage we all got stuck, tied up to a little dock in the reeds as we waited for the lock master (all youngsters on vacation jobs) took two boats through the next lock and then brought down a massive passenger boat - glad we didn't meet her mid-canal! Sat there for about an hour, so had an early lunch while waiting and a chat with the Norwegian boat behind us. Arne has done 3 Arcs, so is a well-seasoned cruiser!
The weather turned grungy late afternoon, so with still an hour to Norrsholm, we called it a day and anchored in little lake Asplengen for the night. John spent some time taking Connor through a whole series of knots (for his Scout Seamanship badge) - then the wind suddenly exploded into 20 knots with major thunder, lightning and rain and we dragged! Change of plan, we motored on to the next lock and tied up alongside - in the lee of the lock and out of the wind.
Connor and John stripped the inlets for the engine, and discovered they were full of grunge - perhaps this is why they suggest switching engines off in the locks! Dinner of curry and rice served and everyone crashed - a long and fairly stressful day.
Monday was an early start (that is 9am here, as that's when the lock keepers start!) through the first lock on onwards: several locks, several variety of bridges (swing, raised, sliding on castors, high overhead), including one interesting set where we had a road bridge (swing) followed 10m later by a lock, followed 20m later by a raised railway bridge! We were held in the lock pending rail traffic stoppage, a gap of some 20 mins to let boat traffic through. Oi vey!
Then a long passage across Lake Roxen - quite a lot of wind, on the nose, hobby horse motion not pleasant. The plan was to tie up at the start of the Berg stairway, a chain of 7 locks going uphill rapidly, and do those in the morning. Of course, all good sailing plans are pencilled in, so when we arrived this one changed, enabling us to climb the stairway and tie up at the top, in Berg.
I must say a huge thank goodness Connor's aboard - not sure these knees would cope with that agile jumping ashore. It makes a huge difference having a teenager aboard!
Frustration! The preparation involved in setting up the right systems, getting them to communicate with each other, upgrading computers and GPS is soooo time-consuming. Not to mention fraught with danger - a Windows 7 upgrade to my laptop has just gone badly wrong and I've lost years of work - is this a sign from above that I need to retire??
John's been doing all the Sat phone and GPS stuff - the air is fairly blue from the desk next to me in the office here.
And should I go into insurance cover?? Vehicle is - finally - covered, but as for trip medical insurance... Well suffice to say this example was fairly much the norm: John - "I need medical cover for a 6-month overland trip down through Africa. What can you offer?" Silence on the other end of the phone, then a buzz as salesman talks to his supervisor. Then he comes back most apologetically. "Sorry sir, we don't seem to have anywhere called Africa listed on our system...can we offer you Europe cover?" Oi vey.
Anyway, the 5-page list of things to do IS being slowly reduced. Vehicle livery done, tools and spares ready to be stowed, everything on the vehicle stepped and up to scratch. Down to a 'Critical List' and a not-so critical list now. Not sure which category a week long crash course in French for next week falls under!
Watch this space, as they say - pics to follow.-
Practise makes perfect, they say. So it was off to Wales for a "quiet green-laning weekend". Ja-well-no-fine! Suffuce to say that if the roads down Africa are like this, I might consider staying in the UK, cold as it may be.
Take a look at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dyqr5J7Jncg
Why Soutpiel?? Well, we live this split life between UK and SA, John's a Brit, a "soutie" as the Afrikaners would say - and of course soutpiel is this slightly derogatory but slightly affectionate term for someone whostands with one leg in Britain, one in South Africa and has all the dangly bits in between hanging in the salty ocean! Seemed appropriate somehow.
The whole idea of making the trip has been gaining momentum over the past few years. Then a legacy from an old aunt gave us some unexpected cash, and we splurged out on a second-hand 2003 Land Rover Defender 110 with a TDI engine - John will give all the technical details later! Suffice here to say that it was a great buy - a 4 year old vehicle with only 300 kms on the clock and the plastic shrink-wrap still around the seats - it had been stored in a container in the Middle East for its lifetime, never used. So, apart from replacing all the rubber bits that had hardened, she was ready to go!
Over the next 2 years, we fitted Lavinia out (named for John's 101 year old aunt who'd left the legacy!). Rooftop tent, Engel fridge, double battery system, raised suspension, extra spare wheels - then took her on a shake-down trip to Bosnia with Toby Gough of www.ilovebosnia.com. Great trip, great expedition leader. Here we threw her down mountainsides, bogged her down in the mud, almost upended her crossing a gully - it was an experience to say the least! But we came back very confident she'd handle everything we could throw at her - and more.
Deciding on the route was the next problem. Solved pretty smartly by the fact that Egypt would require a carnet of 8 times the value of the vehicle - bit excessive we thought - and Sudan and Somali were not appearing like good places to travel through. So we opted for the West Coast route, ferry to Morocco, then the long drive down the coast around the bulge of Africa towards the more familiar territories of Namibia and Botswana.
We followed several other couples doing similar trips, www.greattreksouth.com and www.uk2sa.com and got a huge amount of helpful information from them, and finally decided to leave early November 2010, to arrive in South Africa by late March 2011.
And suddenly it's almost here!
We decided on a Land Rover Defender for this trip some 3 years ago. The only real alternatives considered were the Toyota Land Cruiser, which John had owned in Saudi Arabia, and a Toyota Hilux pickup with canopy which we had rented previously for trips to Namibia and Botswana. Overall we decided that the Land Rover Defender was more rugged, simpler and more easily maintained in Africa.
We visited Nene Overland near Peterborough in December 2007, just to have a look at what was available and came away having bought a vehicle! What we purchased was something rather special.
Choice of engine was one of the primary considerations. Diesel was essential, but there have been several changes of diesel engine fitted to the Defender over the years. One of the early ones was the 300 Tdi which was a "low tech" non-computerised turbo diesel. This was superseded by the Td5 under BMW ownership, a much more sophisticated, and more complicated, turbo diesel and later, under Ford ownership, by the Puma engine. We soon decided that we wanted the 300 Tdi engine, but the problem was that this engine was discontinued on European specification Defenders in 1998 so those available in 2007 were normally very high mileage. However, the 300 Tdi continued to be fitted to "Rest of the World" spec vehicles much later than this. We were lucky, in that Nene Overland had a batch of these vehicles which had been built in 2003 and delivered for a contract in the Middle East, but never used. They had sat in a shipping container in Kuwait for nearly 4 years and had then been purchased by Nene and imported back to the UK. They were, in fact, new and unused vehicles 4 years old! They were LHD but had only 300 km on the clock and still had the protective plastic on the seats! We bought one - a Defender 110 County Station Wagon in white - and called her Lavinia, in memory of my Aunt who had recently died at the age of 101, nearly 102.
Kevin Mackman at Nene Overland then took charge of equipping Lavinia for an extensive overland trip. Underneath, we fitted raised suspension, stiffer rear springs, rock-slider bars, protection for the steering rods and for both differentials, and a 120 litre fuel tank. At the front, a massive Australian ARB "bull bar", an electric winch and twin driving lamps. All the wheels were replaced by alloy rims and we fitted "All Terrain" tyres. At the rear, a spare wheel carrier on the rear door and additional lighting, On top, a South African Hannibal alloy roof rack with roof-top tent, an alloy folding table secured under the roof-rack and a second spare wheel. On the port side we fitted a roll-away Hannibal sun awning. We had security grids placed on all the rear and side-rear windows and between the rear seats and the load chamber. Inside we removed one rear seat and fitted a National Lunar fridge in its place. We added a "cubby box" between the front seats and installed a 500 watt inverter and an air compressor. We increased battery capacity by fitting a second battery and a National Lunar battery management system.
In 2008 we took her to Bosnia for a month and had gave her extensive off-road testing which far surpassed our expectations. Early this year (2010) we decided to drive to South Africa and to import the Defender permanently into RSA. As John had obtained South African permanent residence, he qualified to import one vehicle duty-free, but in pursuing the paper trail for approval and for the export licence, it came to light that South Africa does not now permit the importation of LHD vehicles built after 2000. This was a major blow but it appeared that there was no way round this regulation so we "bit the bullet" and forked out the cost of conversion from LHD to RHD, which was very ably performed by Nene Overland. The final test, two weeks ago, was to take her into the hills of North Wales with Protrax for a gruelling "Wild Wales Safari", which demonstrated the amazing capability of these vehicles.
There are three of us on this trip - John, Jenny - and Huggy Bear, little Matthew's favourite squashy toy. For those of you who don't know, Matthew was my delightful little grandson, whose short life ended most unexpectedly on 24th September - this is our way of holding him close!
Huggy's here to keep us on track, to keep our spirits up with his big grin, to watch over us with those big brown eyes, and of course to report back to Tracy and Francois at regular intervals - you'll see him pop up at all odd times en route.
Watch out for him!
The list of things-to-do IS getting shorter! Logistics to a large extent all in place, like vehicle insurance, medical insurance, carnet de passage, travelex card for cash access, communication systems now all talking to each other, fiche prepared for all those road-blocks, extra passport size pics taken for all the visas we'll have to get ... etc etc!
John's spent hours attaching cup-holders to the dashboard so we won't splash hot coffee over ourselves as we drive - I've spent hours sewing 2p coins around the base of a 10metre length of netting we'll use as a mosquito net for the awning - and we're both doing French lessons! John's French is good (although his grand-daughter Lian does laugh at his usage and pronunciation!!) but mine is non-existant. Not a common language in South African schools!
This week's the final hectic one: haircut, French lesson, CA talk in Lodon tomorrow (Weds), buying new camera and new undies plus French lesson Thursday, 7am flight to Glasgow for Roddy's funeral Friday, French lesson and overnight guests Sat, 22 people for drinks hi-and-bye Sunday - we're going to need this drive to relax!!
Next week (our last) is provisioning week; working out exactly what we're taking and where we're going to put it all. 9 yr old Jake tested the Kelly kettle over the weekend, and pronounced it a raging success - had such a good fire going in this little container that the water boiled in seconds! No worries about gas for a brew-up with this around, that's for sure.
We shall be travelling through 16 countries en route to South Arica and most of these require one to have a visa. A few, perhaps 3, issue visas at the border entry, but the rest require you to have a visa stamped in the passport on reaching the border. It would be too time consuming to try to obtain all these visas in London before we leave and, even if we did, we would probably find that half of them had expired before we came to use them.
We shall therefore obtain visas as we go, generally in one or two countries before the one for which the visa is needed. The list looks like this:
Apply in Rabat, Morocco for visa for Mauritania, Mali
Apply in Bakamo, Mali for visas for Burkina Faso, Ghana
Apply in Lome, Togo for visas for Gabon, DRC, and possibly Angola
Apply in Accra, Ghana for visas for Nigeria and possibly Angola
Apply in Abuja, Nigeria for visas for Cameroon, Congo, Angola, Gabon, DRC
Apply at border for Senegal, Togo, Benin
The visa for Angola could be a problem as the norm is to issue only a 5-day transit visa and, as the route is 2,000 km over bad roads, it will be very tight. We want to try several Consulates to see if a 30 day visa may be obtained, as is issued to northbound travellers who get their Angola visa in South Africa!
It should be fun!
About four months ago, before we went sailing in Nova Scotia, we consulted the Travel Clinic at our local GP surgery and agreed a programme of vaccinations for this trip through West Africa. We had the first set of injections in June and two more sets in October with the final set due next Monday. We are rather like pin cushions, but fortunately have had no adverse reactions.
When complete, we shall have had vaccinations against the following:
Yellow fever - mandatory for entering some countries
Hepatitis A and B, Tetanus, Diphtheria, Polio, Meningitis, Typhoid, Rabies and in addition John has had the annual 'flu vaccination.
Most of these have been free but we have had to pay for Yellow Fever (£ 45 each) and Rabies and meningitis (£177.25 each).
The only one in contention is malaria. Jenny has always used a homeopathic preventative in Africa for malaria and has found that she has been protected where others in the same party using malaria prophylaxis such as Larium and Malarone contracted malaria. It seems that all the recognised prophylaxis cause side effects in some form or other and they are very expensive, especially if taken for the 3-4 months during which we shall be at risk. We have therefore elected to use the homeopathic option. We will also be using the incredibly effective South African insect repellant Tabard and taking all the usual precautions of covering up bare skin after dusk, sleeping under a mosquito net etc.
We have yet to buy, but shall be taking a set of sterile needles, syringes etc as well as a good medical kit.
Just to remind us that life's too short to hesitate, we spent today at Roddy's funeral up in Glasgow - 7am Easyjet flight up, 7pm flight back.
So sad - he was a truly special man, a family man, and the last direct Scottish contact with my Dad, so in a way it was like saying goodbye all over again.
It somehow underlined our determination to do the trip, however. As John keeps saying, do it while we can!
Had all the neighbours around for drinks and snacks today - managed to squeeze some 24 folks into our lounge and dining-room. At times it sounded a bit like an Indian market, but it was great fun meeting up and catching up with everyone again. Because we spend so little time here at the moment, we seem to fly past people!
Rudy and Stephanie presented us with a wonderful spice box, home-made by Rudy out of a Vergelegen wine box and stocked with all the necessities for a "Cook's Helper" - including a small tin of haggis for Hogmany - not something we'd find in equatorial Africa, I'm sure! Fabulous idea - it will have pride of place! And Jennifer gave me a packet of 4711 wet-wipes - what a great idea!
Thank you!
Big provisioning run today - trying to think of what we'll need over the next 5 months or so, specifically things we may not get elsewhere.
It's been a bit like provisioning for Al Shaheen - the basics like salt & spices, pastas, rice, claening materials etc - the sort of stuff you don't want to have to run out and but every day. And also the specials - ginger conserve from Waitrose, mince pies for Christmas (wherever we'll be, they'll probably be in short supply!).
We'll buy local as much as we can, fresh as far as possible - I have told John I'm not buying meat that is hanging in a tree or covered in a thick layer of flies however!! And I guess there'll be a lot of green leaves that we have to cook up a la spinach too. But things like tomatoes, onions, pumpkin, eggs should be freely available.
Guess we'll have to see!
Time's getting short! At least the list of things to do is also getting shorter - although a bit more frenzied. As always, new problems crop up unexpectedly! Such as John trying to transfer all his financials onto the new notebook - jawellnofine, you didn't want to hear the language in the office!!
Hmm...bedtime reading last night was from the website sahara overlands - bit scary seeing all the kidnappings recently (2009-2010) very close to the routes we're planning to take!! Still, we are/have been following several couples who are either currently doing or have just completed the same general trip, so I guess it's a case of "you pays your money and you takes your chances"! www.sahara-overland.com/routes/kidnappings.htm
Fortunately there is a lot of information available - it's amazing to think that in years gone, one took off into the wilds with nothing except a vehicle, a good kettle and a sense of adventure. Julian Little was telling us on Sunday about his trip many years back when he, wife and car full of kids drove from Australia to UK via the steppes and Russia etc - that's adventure!
It's fascinating starting to seriously plan WHERE we're actually going to go - so far it's been a case of "well, we start in Spain, then it's Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali....etc etc. Now we're having to decide - do we do Casablanca and Marrakech, or just Marrakech - Timbuktoo or no Timbuktoo?? Or Timbuktu or Tombouctu - seems spelling is optional. We've been warned that it may be dangerous to drive to however-you-spell-the-place where people are sent to coventry, but I see there is a tour group leaving from South Africa on 18th Nov, and driving to Timbuktu on 1st Dec, so it can't be that bad.
We'll suss it out when we get there. The secret is staying safe!
Oi vey - 3 hours in the pouring rain on a choked M25 - that's enough encouragement to leave these shores for a while. Still, we might look back on 105kms in 3 hours and think what a good trip that had been!
We had a good send-off from the neighbours - no razzle-dazzle band playing, but Jill, Peter & Joyce, Sheila, Don & Jo were all there to wave goodbye with great ceremony as we drove off in style. Just as well they didn't see us 100 metres up the road when the windscreen wiper fell off!! So, a quick detour to Halfords to buy a new one and to Sainsbury's to use up our fuel voucher, and it was off to brave the M25 - Friday afternoon peal traffic, chucking rain - jawellnofine!
Emma had arranged for us to join the family at a bonfire night birthday party - quite a spectacular display, especially when the "mature" pyromaniac adults threw the box with several unused fireworks onto the bonfire! What little was left of the Wayne Rooney guy exploded in grand fashion, much to the delight of all. Poor Rooney - I gather he was the subject of many bonfires tonight!
M4 then M5 towards Plymouth, listening to repeats of old BBC programmes - the Beeb's on strike - something about pensions. It was good - there are some fantastic classics - and they were playing a lot of comedy, probaby to keep everyone in a good mood!
A stop for hot chocolate and a read of the Sunday papers - full of Webber;s fight with Red Bull. What a shame - he deserves this year's championship! Homemade pasties for lunch at the farm shop in Buckfastleigh - wonderful horsey place, everything tweed hunting jerkin style - the clothing shop also sells and delivers horse feed! Very understated swish - Parker-Bowles kind of territory I'd say!
On to Newton Ferrers to stay with the Orioles, and dinner at The Ship with John & Chris, Rudy and Stephanie. Lovely area this - even if the roads are a bit tight for the width of Lavinia Landie!!
Upset stomach all night unfortunately - too much wine and good food or just nerves??
437 nautical miles to Santander - 137 kms Santander to Tudes.
Well, after a rather bumpy 24 hour ferry ride across the Bay of Biscay - somehow I just KNEW there was going to be a huge storm doing this crossing - we're ready to spend our first night in Spain. We landed at Santander in the rain, and it hasn't stopped since! We drove along the coast for a little while, watching the wind scream off the tops of the waves and blow the trees almost flat, then took to the Picos Mts - on the premise that the wind would get broken up by the mountains. Well, almost right - the wind got channelled down the gorge we were driving down!!
Still, it's been a glorious drive, despite the weather. Autumn colours are in full rage, and the narrow windy road up the Gorge is constrained by towering peaks on one side (water exploding down the crevices along the sides) and the Rio Deva barrelling along the valley floor on the other - all very dramatic.
Bit dismaying, though, as our GPS does not seem to be picking up the correct signals here in Spain - we might need to upgrade it, It shows some roads, shows the car driving - but driving through the wilderness, sort of vaguely in the same direction we're going in! Add to that the fact that our two tourist books are old (one 1970s, the other still in peseta not euros), and that our map of Spain is not detailed enough to show the little roads we're on, and you can understand my feeling of somewhat frustration!
Anyway, we're headed in sort of the right direction, down towards the southern coast, and there's no time limit I suppose, so why worry. We stopped in Potes for a hot chocolate and to see what was supposed to be an "olde village" - well, too many tourist busses told us that wasn't actually going to be the scene!! But we've managed to find an absolutely delightful farm apartment - La Casa de la Chemeneas - home of the chimneys - and are now esconced in front of a roaring fire, warming our toes!
This is a converted farm - last farmed some 20 years ago - in a little mountain village of some 10 or so houses. There are only 25 inhabitants - we've met 2 of them already, an old crone walking her dog (probably more dogs than people here!) and a guy pushing his wheelbarrow to the tip to offload his garbage. Beautiful place - one of those absolute gems. The only hassle is we can't et his wifi to work - and have no idea where to find the @ sign on a Spanish keyboard to use his internet which is working!! Oi vey - modern technology.
Now the problem is to convince John we have to wait until 9.30pm for dinner - the Spanish eat late, and I'm not sure he's going to hold out!!
Snow forecast for today up in the mountain pass - what is it with us and weather???
However, this place Tudes has been an absolute gem of a find - La Casa de la Chimeneas has to be the most charming, warm, delightful place to stay! If ever you're in N. Spain, in the Cantabria area, make sure you stop in here!
Fabulous little village, 25 inhabitants only, very olde worlde, and lots of wonderful trails. Next few years maybe??
www.lacasadelachimeneas.es - well worth the visit.
So, to the day - 373 km through rain, sleet, snow, wind and cold - but like the US postman, we always get through! The Pte de San Glorio has to be the most spectacular pass I've ever travelled - way up at 1609 metres the snow was falling, the wind howling, snow ploughs and workers out in force to clear the roads - and here we come, trundling up the road headed for points south and some sunshine! They must have thought we were crazy - we never saw another vehicle until we hit the flat farmland some 800 metres lower down!
A lot of the time today we have been criiss-crossing the famed Camino de Santiago - I thought of you, Joy - and in places the little villages seem to be only a mile or so apart. Each one has its own church, with a bell tower and a steeple - and a huge nest on the top! Storks or Cranes?? I seem to remember something about a local superstition on this - will have to google it.
The colouring through the mountains has been absolutely incredible - oranges and yellows and golds against the snow and mountains - a scene to be seen to be believed. Once we got onto the flat again though, it was all brown and dry - winter's on its way, and the fields have all been harvested. In fact, it got a bit boring then, so I plugged in my trusty laptop to the vehicle's extra battery system, and worked for a few hours.
Talking of working, we haven't got the fridge quite sorted - had the temperature too high (or too low, depending on which John you're listening to!!) and all the meat I bought at Sainsbury and froze so carefully has already defrosted - so last night we had defrosted homemade curry. Mind you, the blazing fire in our little apartment and the fact that Spaniards only start eating at 9.30 or so might have had something to do with that! But we will have to sort out the fridge - keep it colder.
I have been slowly resorting the way things are packed in Lavinia - it's really only once you're on the road that you really know what's important to have where. So some stuff has come out of the back (like replacement socks for when your feet get wet and tissues for wiping the snow off your glasses! And some stuff been thrown out of the cab - reading books, 6-pack of bottled water. Some stuff just needs to be more accessible - like the charging cables - of whcih we have a plethora! Phone x2, laptop x2, camera x2, kindle... nothing like trying to clamber around over the seat to plug in a cable under the seat in a moving vehicle! Oh well, at least we can charge, and I'm not continuously being told I'm using up too much electricity - so long as we're moving, we have an infinite supply in Lavinia!
Huggy has taken to burrowing under the pile of fleeces on the back seat - it's too cold to have anything except a nose sticking out. As you can imagine, we have woosed out a second night running, and are in a hotel tonight!!
Wandered around the old cathedral in Salamanca - why can’t we build like this any more? Can’t or won’t – too expensive to pay artisans of this skill?? But people still traipse back hundreds of years later to see these places – will they do the same for our modern monstrosities of glass and concrete?
The scenery out of town towards Cordoba is hillier than yesterday – covered with gazillions of olive trees! As far as the eye can see, olive trees march over the horizon. John says some time back the EU gave grants for planting olives – boy, a lot of that money must have come here! At a p-stop for John, (men are so lucky, I had to twist my knees for hours!) I picked up a few off the ground to taste. Well, that sort of put me off olives for ever - foul, bitter, gall-tasting things when they haven’t been treated right!!
It’s still cold out, a biting wind, and TV news last night showed drastic scenes of floods and huge waves along the Galician coast – glad we weren’t on the ferry yesterday. Fairly boring drive along the freeway most of the way, so I worked for a while – then John got sleepy from having the heating on, (shades of what’s ahead on those long hot drives to come) so I took over while he napped. Wow – I got a chance to drive!! That’s the problem – he enjoys driving so much, I have to huck for a turn! Anyway, another hour on the A66 and we pulled off onto a side road and ducked down behind a culvert for a lunch-time brew-up. First of the trip – all equipment worked well, and we had a slap-up meal of Sainsbury’s fishcakes and Yorkshire tea, care of the fridge that has unfrozen all our stuff.
We’ve made it a rule to start looking for night stop spots by about 4pm – of course, getting John to actually do that when he’s in full driving stride is not that easy! But it’s a good rule for Africa, and we might as well get used to it now. Of course, we will be waking earlier once we’re camping – so far it’s been 8am before anyone stirs, and then a good hour later before we’re on the road!
Fuenta Obejano was a finger-pointed-at-the-map possibility – looked a nice enough white-walled little town atop a hill, crowned as they all are with a steepled church - so we ambled over. Unfortunately these towns are not made for vehicles the width of Lavinia – the cobbled streets were made for a gentler age. Several false starts later, a stop at a bodega for advice from a delightful young man who gave us explicit instructions in very loquacious Spanglish – and we gingerly inched our way to El Comendador Hotel. Left Lav parked while we tried to raise a receptionist – found her in the bar watching soccer with a couple of locals – more Spanglish about a “habitacion” and “bed matrimonial” – and we were shown up to a dark room with a huge bed facing scaffolding, on the cold side! Deciding the “matrimonial” could be dumped for tonight, more Spanglish got us a 2-bed, sunny side room with a view, and we watched the sun set over the hills, sipping savannahs from our landie fridge.
The restaurant didn’t open till 8.30pm – starving, we were knocking the door down by then. But the receptionist, who is also the bar lady and the waitress and probably cleaner too – finally managed to provide us with a meal by about 9.15. Not bad, and we landed up eating with the “crowd” in the bar – two travelling salesmen, 2 locals and a blind man and minder who arrived late to watch Real Madrid play Real Murcia.
Quite an interesting evening.
Warning – beware Hoteles with 1 star!! No hot water until the hired help (actually the bar lady’s husband) had been to switch the electrical fuse back on – probably tripped when we switched the electrical heater on last night as the hotel heating didn’t work! Still, I was warm enough in my single bed. No sex though – too blooming cold!! The kitchen wasn’t open until 9am for coffee, so we shook their dust off our heels, and made for Cordoba and the Mezquita, the famous mosque/cathedral.
Took some navigating to find the famous Mezquita, not many signs that we could see through all the traffic. Lots of language in the vehicle as we winkled our way through streets narrower than the proverbial needle’s eye. Eventually found a vacant rubbish lot on the other side of the Rio Guadalquivir, accompanied by the ubiquitous parking guard standing with his hand out, and walked into the Old City. Mind you, that was by far the best way to do it. We’d never have got Lavinia around here!
The Cathedral/Mosque of Cordoba, depending on who you’re talking to, is absolutely stunning. No words adequately describe the precision, the elegance of the mathematical imagery and design, the light within the structure, the space – no, the S P A C E – it is all just spectacular. We acted like tourists, walking around gawking! And yet with all that grandeur, the intimate detail in the decoration is mind-boggling. Add to all this, the fact that the creators/owners whoever have managed to retain a tolerance for each other’s cultures that means you have an inimical conjoining of Islamic and Christian design at its best – and a monument well worth the visit.
Just don’t buy a sandwich at the cafe just outside the far exit – rip-off, stale bread, no butter, bad attitude. Always a pity when this happens.
After a visit to the Jewish synagogue (year 75 – which I first thought was 75 BC or AD but then realised it must be year 75 of Jewish calendar, duh!!) and a walk through some intriguing little streets, it was back to Lavinia. A stop at the mid-city pissoir didn’t work because John didn’t have the right change, so it was a trip off into the olive trees again once we got back on the road!
Out of Cordoba the countryside changed almost immediately – wall to wall farming, brown carved fields spread like a huge tapestry to the far horizon. Rolling hills, spotted with an occasional building (not necessarily a farmhouse – where do they live??) just mile after mile after mile of beautifully ploughed incredibly arable looking land. What do they grow? And how do they know whose land is whose? There’s not a boundary or fence in sight! Nothing growing yet either, but obviously everyone’s ready to plant.
About 3pm we saw a lovely little white village up on the hill, topped this time by a castle, not a church. A visit to see – couldn’t find the way to the castle, but did find a cemetery! My my. I’d thought it was an apartment block – but it’s rows and rows of tombs, laid out apartment-block style. Takes all kinds.
We’re here in a delightful olive farm tonight – still not camping. Have brought the clothes bags in tonight, to re-arrange stuff. What I thought were necessities in Sevenoaks weren’t. But I do need a change of clothing – worn the same outfit (excepting undies) since we left!!! Just as well it’s cold.
Interesting - have finally made it to an internet stop - roadside 24-hour cafeteria-type place at Lojo, only to discover that the Western Sahara is closed to foreigners at the moment due to trouble in a camp. Some 11 dead as the Moroccans break up a W.Sahara camp - so - that might mean a serious change of plan already!!!
Watch this space!
Thanks James for the heads-up on our message board - that's what it's for!
Spent the morning at the Alhambra Palace in Granada - another spectacular site - and sight! A lot of the cathedrals here in Spain were originally of Moorish origin, and there's a stunning mix of the two kinds of architecture. Also a wonderful message of tolerance and appreciation for others' religions - underlined by a loud American who kept asking his guide "why the Church hadn't just wiped all this stuff off the walls? Surely it's an insult to Christians to have 'Allah is the one true God' plastered all over the church?" She kept her cool better than I did - simply answered "Why destroy something beautiful?" - I attempted to push him into the tranquil pool.
I did find the abundance of bus-loads of loud tourists and their even louder guides very irritating in the Alhambra - detracted from my overall enjoyment of the place.
Although it might have been a bit of a hang-over - great meal last night at our little rural apartment - only folks there, so we got extra special attention from mine host, little titbits of who knows what kept coming to the table, accompanied by lots of good local wine and topped off with little shot glasses of stuff he kept telling us was "un digestif" - getting quite good at this Spanglish!
Heading for Ronda tonight - see where we get to and report tomorrow. Who knows, we might even camp - it's been gloriously sunny all day!
(pm Never made it to Ronda, have pulled off to another little village en route, and stopped at a commercial hotel for the night - I know, we're wimps, but we'll camp in Africa, promise!!! But at least they have internet access, and that does make a difference.
We can't seem to find anything new on the W. Sahara problems, so I guess we'll make our way down towards Gibralter, across to Morocco and play it by ear. Keep us posted, email if you hear news that we might not. It's a bit difficult sometimes trying to translate the Spanish!!!
Well, well – the joys of travelling without a schedule! Who would have thought we’d land up here – camped rough on a mountainside amongst a zillion other loud Spanish motor-lovers, waiting for a car rally to start??
The day began with a visit to the Alhambra in Granada – another astoundingly beautiful church/mosque in another lovely old city, although I did find this one a bit irritating with all the tourists and their loud guides! Busloads of people, you’re allowed in only at the time marked on your ticket, it’s all a bit too much for me. But the gardens were beautiful – amazing how they could have created such wonderful pleasure spots.
Then a drive to Ronda, which John remembered visiting with Sue – however, it took some finding, and I think we were both a bit tired by this time. Pity we didn’t spend the night there – it seriously IS spectacular – built on the other side of a 100 metre river chasm, there are sheer drops all around the “ronda” the round section of the old city. They must have had a hard time keeping the kids from playing on the edges in the days before they put the fences up! And amazing aquaducts carved up the sides of the cliff. A touristy town, not surprisingly – the first time we’d heard English (from Brits) and they were in all the cafes and cafeterias! Again, we made the mistake of eating at a touristy place – mediocre food, bad service – resulting in an irritated husband!
So by the time we started looking for a place to stay for the night, the day had turned slightly otherwise: we drove through a high rocky pass towards Algeciras, with magnificent views out to a huge rock which we thought might be Gibraltar. However, the only likely places we saw were either closed or smelled bad, or had no parking except in the street – in Castellar we found a very elegant, huge hotel – the Ferrari parked in the car-park was the only other car there, which should have told us something. At E169, we decided to pass!!
So it was back on the road again, and we’d just decided to drive to the coast for the seaside hotels, when I saw a sign saying Hotel el Alcazaba – off a little side road amongst the trees. Again, we spun the wheels and took it.
Well, this was no road less travelled. Extremely narrow, drops off each side making it very hairy if there was another car on the road – and suddenly there was traffic for Africa, all coming the other way! With no chance to turn Lavinia around, we had to carry on – and the road just went up and up and up. Of course if we’d had any sense we’d have realised an alcazaba is a fortress – so it had to be at the top of a hill!!!
8kms and some hairy encounters later we were met by a police escort waving us off the road – just wondering who the hell the important personage was, when about 30 little rally cars came buzzing through behind the cops. Oh well, we thought, obviously a race course of some kind – and it was now over hence the exodus, so at least the hotel would be empty.
Boy, were we wrong! The Hotel in the fortress is fantastic – but even at E100 per night single room, it was choc-a-bloc – as were the narrow little streets, the verges and anywhere else!! The rally is tomorrow, Sunday, and there’s a Party up here tonight! So it was back down about 1km, to a space we’d seen earlier which had two tents up – we found ourselves a nice level spot – and we’re camping for the first time on our Safari!!!
BY 9pm, there were 4 tents, and the party was in full swing up the hill. Loud music until the early hours of the morning, but we were snug as bugs in a rug up on top of Lavinia.
The traffic started again at about 6am – it’s now just after 9am, and we’re waiting for the rally to start at 10am. There must be 30 cars now parked in our little piece of Paradise, and we have been watching boggle-eyed as they’ve squeezed into unimaginable places all morning! Amazing what you can do with a little Honda when you’re young and Spanish and a motor-head with something to prove to your girl-friend!!
Who would have thought we’d be sitting on a mountainside waiting for the rally to arrive?? John keeps saying I have “broadened his horizons” – that’s what travel with no schedule does!
2pm, and all is silent again. It has been a frenetic few hours – the buzz started at about 6am (after an all-night party up at the castle!), when cars started rolling in to find an available place to park. When the obvious ones were full, they hung their cars on the edge of the mountainside – when those bits of ground were taken, they with much gesticulation and loud ‘Ola! Ola’s!’ managed to get everyone to squeeze up in the bus, and another 3 or 4 jammed in behind. Then the Guardia arrived, so it was another shifting around to fit them in too!!
Picnic scene – the early birds came with tables and packs of cards, huge chunks of meat and chorizos appeared, bread was hacked – and lots of Cervezas were drunk. All were a little surprised when John opted for a cuppa tea at 10am!!
Then the fun started – 39 cars participating, best of three races up the hill (timed) declared the winner. No fear with these guys – they hauled up the mountain in these little souped up jobbies – each driver receiving a cheer or boo from the very partisan home crowd – much rubber left on the road, and a few bits of yellow paint on the rocks from the smiling driver in the blue overalls pictured here! He finished his 3 races however, everything held together with some strategically placed duck tape. A couple of cars dropped out, the low yellow (great favourite with the crowd!) left half his car at the start somewhere for his second run) but all in all, a great extravaganza for a little village of this size!
We caused some consternation with Lavinia – lots of questions and admiration. Couple things developing: we need to have our blogsite on the door – and need to state UK to SA somewhere. The route marker is not dark enough – pale yellow doesn’t show up on the pale green – may have to do something about that. But we put our first sticker on: the Spanish flag on the back passenger side door. How many will we have by the time we get to Broederstroom??
One the great things about travelling is the meeting of people: the crowd in the car next to us who arrived early, set out their card table, and proceeded to try to feed us for the rest of the morning! And Ulla and her son Christoph; German, she’s married to a South African whose mother is coloured – mother married a German, but had to leave SA in order to do so. She claims she’s an old hippie – apparently the village up here was originally inhabited by hippies, the only ones who wanted the run-down houses. Now, some 50 years or so later, they are prize real estate and the ‘hippies’ are being encouraged to move out!
Ulla rents rooms in the castle for Jenny, the widow of Lew Hoad, ex Wimbledon player. So here we are tonight, ensconced in Lew Hoad’s house in the fortress of Castellar – delightfully quaint and cosy, and certainly safe. Had to park Lavinia at the bottom and walk in – there was no way we could, or would be allowed to, get her bulk around these corners or down these alleyways.
Have just sat in a castle crypt and watched Vettel take the Formula 1 championship from Alonso – and take it well too. He deserves it – has driven extremely well the whole season. Although I still think he’s a bit offish, it was very sweet to have him crying with emotion when he took the chequered flag. Interesting – sitting in Spain, Ferrari stronghold, amidst silent Spaniards as their star Alonso comes in a bad 7th!!!
Still ‘hippies’ up here – John wanted to photograph a man with an eagle on his wrist. “One Euro” he says – so my Yorkshireman declined the priviledge!
Have had several questions re Christmas cards and where to send - my suggestion would be to do an email one, or a message on the blog!!! Have no idea where we'll be: the plan is/was Mali, at no specific address - and that's all very dependent on the status of W. Sahara, whether they will let us through from Morocco, etc etc.
I know we'll be doing email cards!!
The Rock of Gibraltar - huge slab of British history staring out at us - and how strange to see British bobbies walking the street! All rather tatty though - it's been a while since this was a crowning jewel! Lots of sunshine, so that's an obvious attraction, but we both decided there really wasn't anything that would make us move here.
That being said, we had a great tour of the island, going deep underground to see both the incredible subterranean caves, and then also exploring the defenses and tunnels (some 40kms of them!!) carved out inside the Rock itself. Used both during the Great Siege os 1779-83, and during WW2 - not to hide cannons, but as a base for military searchlights.
And of course, the Rock would not be British without the Barbary apes (macaques) - they are both a pest and a delight! Grab anything you're carrying - several guys had their bags of crisps snatched out of their hands - and jump all over you - a German woman was almost hysterical when a young ape jumped onto her shoulder and started trying to deflea her long black hair!! And smart - we had several all over Lavinia - they hang on and eye the inside of the vehicle, to see what's there to eat - funny, but I can imagine could get quite nasty. They realised very quickly we had a plastic cover over the sand-tracks, and proceeded to rip that off to see if it was edible - which of course had John leaping up the back of the vehicel to chase them off - big male meeting another big male!!
We'd originally planned to camp in Gibraltar, but there's is no camping allowed anywhere on the island, we were told. Rather than fuss, we bailed late afternoon, and drove back across the airport (you actually drive/walk/cycle right across the runway!!) through Algeciras (where we'll catch the ferry to Morocco) to Tarifa, and are now camped in a proper caravan park with proper showers etc - not roughing it tonight! We've bought our ferry tickets to Cuerta - they are undated and have no time limit, so we'll probably take a lay day tomorrow, do some much needed laundry, re-arrange the boxes and shelves etc - and leave for Africa on Wednesday.
Interesting drive across today: we moved out of the cork tree area (we're off course very close here to Jerez where sherry is bottled!) and were intrigued by the sight of the cork trees, large bands of bark stripped off, obviously the cork. We were just debating the hows and what fors of this process when we drove past huge piles of cork being stacked - never seen raw cork before, so it was quite an eye-opener. Makes me appreciate the real thing, I have to say!
We suddenly also hit a band of stork territory - have no idea what kind of stork, but it must be migratory, as every single pylon was topped by a huge stork nest - sometimes one bird per nest, often two - and sometimes two or three nests on one pylon: high-rise stork apartments! They're obviously encouraged, as there are structures for the nests - similar story as the storks in the church towers? And in a field, there must have been 50-70 birds on the ground. Why??
No final word yet on the border opening between Morocco and W. Sahara, so we'll just take this as it comes. If push comes to shove and things are too bad, I guess we'll abort, stay in Morocco longer and if necessary take a ship to somewhere!! Mor than one way to skin a cat.
This is defintely the beginning of "A Trip" here - suddenly we are seeing people with maps of Morocco, vehicles kitted out for something more than a trip to the beach - the adventure is actually starting. Up until now, I've felt a bit as if we've been on holiday somewhere - not that we're en route to a major overland adventure!
And we are parked facing the Straits of Gibraltar - over the other side of the narrow passage is Morocco - we can actually see it!!
Close enough almost to touch - I can't wait.
Amazing - we're only 11 days into this huge 5 month escapade, and we're tired already!!
Seemed like a good time to take a lay day - last stop in Spain before heading across the Straits of Gibraltar to Cuerta, Morocco and and all the unknowns of Africa - get some laundry done, catch up with some small maintenance jobs, do some editing, bone up on what to expect of the next month or so.
To that end, we still have no really good idea what's happening - lots of stories flying around about 100s killed and/or injured in the swoop on the camp in W. Sahara - some say borders are closed to foreigners, some say they're open. Rumour is a great news-spreader, and sometimes you've got to just go ahead and go!! We'll play in Morocco for a few weeks, then make decisions. see www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/nov/16/moroccan-raid-sahara-refugee-camp for the latest news we've got.
Cold last night: I was piling on the layers, and still whinging. You know what a woos I am about cold!! But once we hit the tent and cuddled under the duvet (no guys, not what you're thinking!!), it was very cosy. We have a huge king-bed down duvet which could probably wrap twice across the tent mattress, and two little red fleecy blankets as well - I use mine to wrap over the top of my pillow to keep my head warm. Which John laughed at, but decided in the early hours of the morning was a good idea! John's also rigged up an LED light, flourescent shape, which hangs from the tent struts and gives us great light to read by.
Eraly start, ready and raving to go do all these housekeeping tasks! A stunningly hot shower - soooo nice! Then a trip to the office to get discs for the washer and dryer - oh, mucho apologios, 'lectris is broke. And we haven't even got to Africa yet!! Turns out the electricity is down until probably 2pm. Oh well, I can live with that, have lots of editing to do.
So back to Lavinia, and plugged into our own battery system, I worked for the enxt few hours while John initially did odd jobs like filling Lavinia's fresh water tanks with good water - now that was a "boer maak 'n plan" saga! One of the things we've discovered we don't have is a widget to deliver the water from wherever into our tank! A funnel doesn't work as the aperture is horizontal and the water simply pours out - and being proudly self-sufficient in termns of water etc, we don't have any receptacles in which to carry such! Bit of McGyer stuff though, demolition of a plastic bottle, initial attempts to use the collapsible dish-washing bowl overtaken by the borrowing of a 25 litre plastic jug from a surfer - and hey presto, we were in business! What you can do with a bit of ingenuity.
Then just before 2pm, the 'lectris came back on - two quick washes in a very nice laundry (the camp is almost totally full of Germans and they are obviously the expected clients, so everything runs very smoothly - usually), and I was ready to do a dry. In the meantime, I thought I'd go sit in the cafe/bar, use their 'lectris to charge my laptop and get their wifi too. Except that now the dryer didn't work - and the cafe/bat only opens at 5pm!! Complaints to the little manageress produced a Spanish fixer-upper - amidst much gesticulating to show me 'how do...' with me saying 'did do but it don't...', he eventually rushed off, to return with what is obviously a Spanish/Portuguese instrument of expertise - a huge rubber mallet!! Remember our Woods Hole escapade - when we had the dents in our keel hammered out by another Portuguese bruiser with a sledgehammer??
Needless to say, this one didn't work, and we eventually rigged a line between two trees and relied on Spanish sunshine to do the job. Slightly damp clothes in the back of Lavinia right now, but they'll be dry by tomorrow!
We're planning to have paella in the cafe/bar here tonight - it's been invaded by the horde of Germans staying here, who have commandeered the fireplace and to John's envy set up a roaring fire that he can't get near! So we have: in one corner, the Spanish manager and her cronies, all short dumpy and from the same family, I'd say (grandma's been walking around in her dressing gown all day!), in our corner us and a couple young Brit wind-surfers frustrated because there's been no wind for the past couple days, and in the middle of the place, dominating loudly, the Germans!!
Trust the food's as good as the photo of it is - otherwise I'll have an unhappy husband!
Superstitious? I never thought I was – but maybe 13th is NOT a good day to travel to a new continent!
Quick ferry to Ceuta, waved through the Spanish customs – then all hell broke loose in Morocco. John took all the documents etc while I waited in the vehicle, casually watching the passing parade. Suddenly an aggressive little man in uniform appeared at the side of the vehicle, studied the map on the driver’s side intently, then ignoring me completely, proceeded to try to scratch it off the door! Not able to do so, he stormed off, and next thing he and John were both back, and he was gesticulating and yelling and making it very obvious he was unhappy about the W. Sahara bit on the map. All we could make out was “visa – no! No! No!” John was still trying to pacify him by saying we’d blank it out when he marched off, returning a few minutes later with a knife which he proceeded to use to lift the plastic transfer and rip the whole thing off! John watched in horror, protesting all the while - £200 down the drain, literally – while I stupidly took a photograph of him doing so. Next thing another guy was onto me, demanding the camera – so I very quickly deleted all the pics in front of him, visions of a Moroccan goal looming large suddenly!
By this time the first guy, still spitting and hissing, had moved to the other door, and was ripping all that off too – all that is left is UK & Europe, Madagascar and I think a little patch of Cape Town! John was back at the cubicle trying to get the documents processed, when hissy spitty arrived back at my door, yelling at me “Profesion? Profesion?” He then made it very clear that I was NEVER EVER to take another photograph, before once again storming off somewhere. John came back very worried – he’d disappeared with our passports. “They’ve just taken accreditation away from some Spanish journalist,” he said. Just as well I didn’t practice that little bit of French I had learned “je suis editrice”!! Just as suddenly as it blew up, it was all over: documents all signed and stamped. “Welcome to Morocco,” said the customs man genially waving us through.
So what the hell was that all about? Worried about the fact that the map showed we planned to go through Western Sahara? Worried that we might be journalists going to report on the drama there? I don’t know, but it wasn’t a good start to our trip through Africa.
Then we needed to buy insurance for the vehicle – everything was closed, we presumed for lunch, although it was only about 11.30. So we drove, very carefully, through to the next town, Tetuoan, looking for both cash machines to get dirhams and assurance companies. Like hen’s teeth, both of them – very rare! So we decided to fill up on the credit card – pulled into a big garage with huge signs saying Carte de Credit – fortunately they hadn’t started to actually put diesel in when John checked – no, no credit card, cash only. So then the search was on for all three – but it was really weird: there was not a person in sight, barely a car on the road, every house, apartment, shop, closed up tight. It was like they knew something that we didn’t and had abandoned the town before the barbarians arrived or something!
We eventually found a bank with a cash machine, got dirhams, filled up – now we felt slightly better. But only slightly – still very few people anywhere. Only a few kids hanging out on street corners or scrap land, hunched over oil drums with big fires burning – all a bit hobo like and scruffy. John decided to draw some more cash, and this time at the ATM was “befriended” by a very personable 40-something guy, who explained to us in adequate English that we “were very lucky, because this is Eid al Adha, special festival” and that we “must see medina, all people in medina today”.
There’s a sucker born every day they say!
Off we went after him, Bilbal I think his name was, into the deep dark recesses of the medina, following blindly down deserted cobbled alleyways that twisted and turned and vanished into the darkness under low arches – within 5 minutes I was lost. So was John! But Bilbal kept up a reassuring patter, explaining to us that all those “hoboes” we saw were actually the workers sorting out the sheep – every family sacrifices and cooks a sheep today, and these guys get the job of ‘braising’ the head – chopping the horns off with an axe, sticking a spike up through the neck, and thrusting the head into a brazier to burn the hair off. Packets of heads line the street in front of each worker, who’s spattered in blood and gore – it’s quite something to walk down a narrow scary little souk street that’s completely empty except for knife and axe-wielding youngsters!
We were encouraged to take photos, which I did until my battery went flat – to hell with that blasted man at the border – and Bilbal showed us the hamman (Turkish baths) and the “Boss” house (well, his gate actually) and the tannery (yukkk) and what would normally be the woodworkers and the leatherworkers areas – when the souk opens on Friday that is. He also conned us into a ‘demonstration’ at a carpet maker, but what the hell, it’s not as bad as sitting through a timeshare sales pitch! Then he showed us where to buy car insurance, and suggested we stay in a hotel here in Tetuoan tonight, buy insurance on Friday. Too dangerous to drive, he says. No doubt he gets a cut on the hotel price too!
So it cost us 200 dirhams tip to Bilbal – and 250 for the hotel and locked parking – we’d never have seen this without him! I would never have dared walk through that souk without him, and I don’t think John would have been all that happy either. Unfortunately being Eid, there’s not a restaurant in town open – so we had 2 choc donuts for breakfast on the ferry, and a pastry for dinner washed down with tea. Plus some cold meat from the car! Tomorrow’s another day!!
And not the 13th any more.
After quite a scary day yesterday, and not being able to buy the necessaru vehicle insurance until shops open again on Friday, we decided to lie low today, so hunkered down in our hotel room. It's cold out anyway, most things are shut up, so there's really nothing to explore.
We did go out about 10.30 this morning, managed to get ourselves a cup coffee - they do make good coffee here! - and an egg and cheese sandwich - most solid food we'd had since yesterday/. The sun is out, there are some people on the streets, and generally things look a bit brighter. But we're still sitting tight until tomorrow.
It was a good opportunity for me to really get stuck into some editing though, wrapped up in a duvet on the bed. The rooms face the wrong way for the sun, and there's no heating, so a duvet is essential!
John wandered out later this afternoon and found this little internet cafe - strange sitting here amongst all the men (one other woman in a headscarf and one if full black outfit, and me in jeans!!): I've never felt quite so aware of being a woman as I have the last two days! ALL the men stare - young, old, decrepit, way past it - they all stare! And walking back from the town this morning, tucked away up on the hillside between some rocks was an horrid dirty old man wanking away - oi vey!!
Think we need to move on - this is not the Morocco we came to see. Although it appears from what news we can see here that things are still very tense further south, so who knows - we may be shipping the vehicle from somewhere up north here, or back in the UK for a white Christmas!
Well, several lessons to be learned from this experience - the most important of which is Know The Dates of The Religious Festivals Before You Get Here!!!! Eid al Adha is a 3-day festival where evrything closes - and I mean everything! And we arrived on the first day, it seems. Bad planning.
The inusrance office was open this morning, so John shot down there to get the vehicle covered, came back delighted, definitely the poorer, but enriched by a green folder with the precious document in it. Only, when reading the small print, did he discover it was only valid from midnight tonight!!!
Quick trip back to the insurance company to get the date changed, only to be told they couldn't change it - we SHOULD have bought it at the border. Well, we WOULD have, if anything had been open!!!! The rationale is that apparently it can't be back-dated in case we had an accident over the past two days - all the declarations in the world that it was actually locked up in a garage the whole time fell on deaf ears.
So here we are, in the hotel for another day! Everyone claims there are road-blocks galore out on the road, and it's just not worth it to take the risk. It's a good time for me to work though, so that's what I've been doing, getting lots of stuff up to date. Frustrating, but inshallah, as the locals say.
What little we've seen of the town is rather nice, by Moroccan standards. We wandered around a bit yesterday - discovered our way around quite easily and realised pretty smartly that old Bilbal the other day had really led us around and around the bushes!! We could probably find our way around the medina (with some backwards and forwardsing) but he took so many dark alleys and twists and turns that we had no idea where we were. Name of the game, I guess - get the tourist lost!
Having always been very anti the way females have to cover up, I'm beginning to realise why they do - and to consider getting a light coloured cover-up myself! The "looks with intent" are quite wearing after a while - I've taken to never looking at anyone in the eyes in the street, quite alien to me. Certainly never smiling at a man - an invitation for sure. Irritating though to not be able to go into a coffee shop because the "family scetion" upstairs is not open - and women certainly don't sit downstairs with all the men!!
Still, the women we've seen seem happy enough - not many of them though. Having coffee last night (about 7pm) in the Salon de The, only about 10 women to maybe 150 men. Women's place here is definitely in the home!
So, we're in Tetuoan again for another day - will take a walk up into the newer town to see if we can perhaps get a meal before everything closes again for lunch-time prayers - because then it stays closed until 5pm or so! Thinking seriously about getting the gas bottle out in the car park to make a decent meal - since we've arrived in Morocco it's been coffee, the de menthe, croissants and pastires - that's it! Oh and we did smuggle a platter of cold ham up to the room yesterday! The big man's losing weight.
9pm The unpleasant entry into Morocco and the weirdness of our first two days in Tetuoan coloured our impressions negatively, I’m afraid. But today eventually turned out to be a day that more than met some of our original expectations of Morocco!
Sunny suddenly, the town now bustling with people who smiled and laughed and were obviously enjoying themselves and life, AND we found a restaurant open! Sure, it was still the only one open in the whole town, and for the first hour we were still the only people in it – but it was the first real food we’d eaten in three days, so we weren’t about to complain about the lack of fellow guests!
Tomorrow’s another day – we have insurance cover, and we’re heading for the hills and a more relaxed atmosphere – staying away from the drug dealers, however!
Another day of surprises! We were on the road early, out of Tetuoan at last – it had begun to feel like a gilded cage, to say the least. All in all however, dear old Bilbal had done us well – he’d given us a tour of the souk’s fiery inner workings, shown us where everything was, found us a clean hotel – with hot water and a lock-up garage – then stung us, but that’s part of the game, I guess!
I have to confess I’m beginning to appreciate Morocco more – perhaps it was just a really bad introduction! The people are friendly – yes, there are lots of touts, but you can’t write off the whole nation just because some will huck you. And certainly out here in the country there’s a different feel to things – not nearly as much ‘religiousity’ or negativity as we felt in Tetuoan. I’m looking forward to the rest of it.
Despite it being miserable and raining most of today, it was a fascinating drive. Up through the Rif Mountains behind old men on pannier-laden donkeys (was that olives or ‘kif’ in their panniers??) and ‘taxi grande’ which give the South African black taxis a run for their money, for sure! Mercedes Benz cars of dubious age and even more dubious maintenance, all painted the same pale shade of blue – and jammed to the hilt with people. We saw 8 get out of one!!
The traffic was hair-raising – overtaking on a blind rise was the norm. We hadn’t been driving more than about an hour when we almost met our Maker – speeding darkened landcruiser overtaking a gaggle of trucks and taxis missed hitting us head-on by centimetres – another coat of paint, and we’d have been history! We’d been warned about ‘fake’ accidents, and sure enough, they seemed to abound in one stretch – three accidents in a half kilometre stretch, including one with a car upside down, wheels spinning, window smashed and lots of young guys flagging us down – but no glass on the road??? Were we just being paranoid, or what? We decided there were lots of other vehicles on the road better able to take care of the problem if it was a problem.
For both of us, it was a pleasure travelling through the kilometres of farmland that opened out once we came down out of the mountains past Chefchuoan: we’d planned to stop there, but it was just too cold! Great camp site for a lovely summer day, but not in this weather. So, a cup of coffee later, we were on the road again, heading for somewhere warmer.
Except that never arrived! Every time we thought the sun was just breaking through, it vanished again. Yet the farmers were all out, ploughing their fields with old wooden donkey-ploughs, obviously making the most of the wet soil. Interesting seeing all the old ways still being used: mils and miles of immaculately furrowed land, all done by hand, planted by hand, and I guess harvested by hand. Olive trees galore again, pomegranates suddenly appearing, the first date palms, lots of citrus – and fields and fields ready for what I must assume will be wheat. Incredibly fertile valleys.
We finally found a camp site just outside Moulay Idriss, a very sacred spot to the Muslims, where non-Muslims were only allowed access about 80 years ago. No sleeping facilities available in the town, no restaurants, so we skipped it and went to a delightful campsite about 8 km out, Camp Zerhoune, run by a most welcoming Abdul.
Initially we set up the tent, ready to rough it – but then the rain started to really bucket down. So we took a drinks break, did some mellowing in his ‘lounging’ area, and contemplated our options. There was a b&b we’d passed some way back – then two Brits on motorbikes splashed in and took a room. A room, here? What a great idea!
So we’re ensconced in a little room, painted blue, with a white silky hanging for a ceiling – it’s small, but it’s dry!!
Squate toilets are going to be the end of me on this trip!! My old knees just don't make it there any more - I can get down, but boy what a hassle getting up!! And there's nothing to hold onto except the tap down at knee level (to wash things off with!!) - all a bit strange for my western sensibilites. John nearly had a serious accident - undid his belt and almost dropped his camera down!
We had an absolutely glorious drive to Rabat - through the most stunning fertile country, beautifully ploughed ready for the new planting, miles and miles of rolling farmlands as far as the eye could see. According to the guide book, the Romansof Volubilis originally cleared the trees here in order to plany wheat to supply the bellies of Rome - boy did they do a good job!
Volubilis in itself was quite something: beautifully preserved ruins of a 20 000 person Roman city, with mosiacs still perfectly in place - apparently was still in use as a village until into 18th century, when the marble was raided to build the local palaces. Well worth a visit, quite the best ruins I've seen.
The road was both good and frightening: almost got ourselves written off a couple of times by oncoming speeding vehicles: bit difficult when you have a shepherd with 30 sheep and a big ditch to one side, a line of oncoming vehicles - and one charlie determined to overtake them all and hit you head-on! Still, all seemed to have an ability to avoid each other at the last moment: it's just very nerve-racking for folks used to rules of the road.
Olives for sale all the way along the road - even on the freeway, every 20 metres or so was a guy with his few small buckets waving us down! They've obviously picked them from the vast quantities linign the road - I guess they're free for all olives, no owners. Also suddenly lots of veggies on the roadside - stuff that looks like rhurbarb except it's not red, lots of turnips, and as we got closer to Rabat, lots of citrus - big oranges and small little naartjies - very sweet!
We drove through Khemisset slowly, wondering what all the smoke and people congregating was about - fire, accident, bomb?? Turned out it was the area where tajines wre being cooked, and the smoke came from dozens of little stall-holders, charcoal fires burning merrily topped by little conical pointed pots! Well, that was lunch sorted - a quick u-draai, and we were back parking in front of one such stall, being served the most delectable tajine of slow cooked meat (what???) with potatoes, peppers and spices swimming in oil. Eaten with freshly baked round loaf of bread - well, I could live on this - cut the oil back a bit, but otherwise delicious.
So on our way out of town, we were 'talked' into buying oursleves a tajine pot - now all we need is a campsite and some charcoal, and we're set!
Talking campsites - they really are few and far between here in Morocco! The ones listed in Lonely Planet have all been closed - in Sale, on the far side of the river from Rabat, there was supposed to be one near where the the Sallee Rovers (corsairs) used to hang out to raid the French and Spanish galleons on their way back from the Americas and we thought it would be great fun to stay there. Unfortunately a big new bypass has taken care of that one!
So it was back to fight our way through peak hour Sunday traffic (everyone out on the road today!) down the beach road for about 15-20 kms - the first one marked had also vanished, the second one we found only because out of the corner of my eye I saw the peak of a tent sticking up over the wall. No signs - classed as a hotel and restaurant, they stung us 100 dirhams to stay in a cow-field with revolting toilets and really nasrty showers.
I have to confess to hanging on for dear life until it was dark and peeing in the grass at the side of the vehicle! Shower??? No way - Jennifer's 4711 wet wipes came in very handy! It's strange, because it's a very nice hotel, smart restaurant - what have they got against campers??
Anyway, we met our first "traveller" tonight - Jessica and Andre and their two dogs Paul and Frieda - young Germans driving much the same way as us, but only as far as Mali before returning to Germany again. Old Landie "2Dogs around the world" - nice to talk with someone else and get their ideas on what's happening. They don't seem to be at all fussed about W. Sahara - perhaps we're over-reacting?
But we have had another successfully snug camp night - and used our special Spice Box, Rudi!!
So, early morning rise to drive into Rabat to start the visa saga - hopefully Maurentania and Mali here. Andre said he knew the way, so we followed him in: bit of round the trees stuff, but thank goodness they were there, it would have been a mission to find it otherwise, as our Lonely Planet guide gave an old address!!
And dear old GPS has been "re-calculating" for so long now, we've shut her voice off! Shows most of the roads, but not the ones we're on - so very often we're driving sort of vaguely towards a flag point marked, no streets etc!!
Anyway, after a long wait in the queue, the application's are in for Mauritania - we can pick them up at 3pm, and then take them straight over to the Mali Embassy. Interesting the difference - Mauritania very official and negative, Mali incredibly friendly and obliging! According to Andre, that's the way the people are in the respective countries too.
I'm amazed that Andre and Jessica are travelling through Africa like this with two dogs - and seem to have no problems! Their vehicle states '2 dogs around the world' www.viermalvier.com Certainly are a good safety measure - where's our Obelix when you need him most? A big growling ridgeback would certainly see off the hustlers fast!
Anyway, having put the applications in, we shot off to find an internet cafe - 2nd floor of a dingy building in a back lane somewhere, but it worked and was fast! Some fresh fruit buying - wonderful pomegranates, oranges, naartjies - great fresh veggies available. Then it was time to collect the visas - the same crowd were there, and we met a few more land rovers also going south - nice to know we have potential company along the road! Several land rovers, including a French couple sleeping in a hotel in Tamara along the coast tonight.
The queue to collect was definitely biased towards females, so for the first time in Morocco my femaleness was a benefit - in and out before 80% of the males!! Then a quick trot down to the Mali Embassy, where we sat and chatted to 2 other couples, both taking large overland truck tours down to S. Africa - one ending in SA, the other continuing all the way back to Istanbul - and we thought we were adventurers??? Both putting in passports for 24 plus people travelling - they have been "sleeping rough" in Rabat while they source visas for about 5 different countries - WOW!
Anyway, so caught up in chatting to them and finding out where and when, we didn't submit our passports - and almost got thrown out of the Mali Embassy without visas! A few 'sorry, sorrys' and a bit of a run-around later, however, and we had both visas in our passports. Plus lots of potential co-travellers to meet up with along the way. As John says, you suddenly realise this is a well-beaten track and you're following in lots of footsteps, not blazing a new trail!
The new trial each night is always to find a place to stay - no way were we going back to Gambusias again, even though I'd taken the chance to use embassy loos wherever possible! So we drove around, looking. Saw a Sofitel sign, and pulled in: good basic hotel, said John - through very swank gates under frowns of uniformed guards - John went in to enquire and shot out. 1400dirhams per night?? No thanks!
Down the road again - got caught in astounding peak hour trafiic - 5 lanes squeeze into 2 at the drop of a hat - no rules except the rudest gets the road! Finally got out onto the beach road we'd travelled yesterday, looking for something other than the drastic campsite. Up and down several side roads - we saw the one big overland truck disgorging people into a sparse dirty field just back from the rocks and decided not to join them, asked a gendarme (they seem to have at least 4 standing looking helpless at every roundabout!), and were directed "1km " down the road to Hotel Panorama. Never did find her, but suddenly saw a sign saying 'Maison Riad' which my VERY rudimentary bit of french told me was a b&B.
"Turn, turn!!" I yelled. We followed this little road that got narrow, then rather exclusively smart - and there was the sign for the Riad - nice area, nice gates, lovely lady smiling at us to welcome us in.
Well, we have landed up in the Arabian Nights 1001 dreams!!! Colonel Alaoui Abdallah (friend and relative of Mohammed VI, current King of Morocco, Sandhurst trained) has turned his personal home into a Riad (traditional guest house). 9 bedrooms - and we're the only guests, of the most incredible Moroccan home - the detail, the woodwork, the painting, the decoration - I could go on for ever, but hopefully the pictures will speak for themselves!
So, we are spending more than we would have at the Sofitel, but what the hell - how many times in a lifetime do you get the chance to stay in a genuine Colonel/cousin to the King of Morocco's house??? I mean, Mr Aramis himself slept in the bed we are sleeping in tonight - and the dressmaker to the Queen (Norman Hartnell?) slept in the Royal Suite!!
I've told John we can give Casablanca a miss now - this has been my romantic Casablanca moment! If you want a treat, try www.riadalhambra.com It's to die for, darling!
Lying in this big fancy bed answering emails and doing the blog before breakfast, I was thinking how incredibly special it is having so many friends all over the world watching over us - thank you all for your wishes and messages and checks re W. Sahara etc - it is invaluable! And so heart-warming to receive a message from a friend - it usually gets picked up at the end of a stresful day, and is wonderful. Thank you - and keep them coming! And for those we don't know yet, like Carol Ralfe and Sam & Em, please send us your email address so we can contact you personally!
Another day of mixed experiences – beautiful scenery, wonderful people – and touts!
Breakfast at Riad Alhambra was an experience – fortunately Colonel Abdallah arrived while we were eating, because as we made inroads into one platter of breads, pancakes, griddle cakes, doughnutty things, omelets, so another platter arrived – seemingly inexhaustible. “Don’t worry to finish everything,” he said, “because if you do, they think you’re still hungry.” What a relief to be able to stop eating!
After effusive and warm farewells, we took off for Rabat and the Kasbah, the old fortifications at the river mouth. And promptly, despite all warnings, got caught by our first touts of the day – a security guard opened the gate for us, then walked alongside us chatting away, leading us through another gate out onto a parapet – where another young man carried on the conversation. I tried to ignore them, John tried to politely brush them off, but they both kept spouting all this information about the pirates and the Spanish and a string of dates and facts and figures etc – when we finally got out of the gates, of course they both demanded payment! Bit of an altercation, John gave them a couple of coins and we left with their wails of despair ringing in our ears!!
Then it was out towards Fes – a short ride along the freeway (a toll road) then we bailed off to go back to Khemisset for another tajine. I mean, it was lunch-time and a good few hours since the previous giant-size meal. Chose the guy over the road this time, so I could get a photo – he smiled quite happily because we were eating at his place, then said I could only take 2 pictures or else pay - daylight robbery!! Still, the atmosphere, smoky and rough, was great, the tajine was delicious, so all in all, it was worth it. For those of you who haven’t had a tajine, it is a base of onions and peppers with a large chunk of meat in the middle, surrounded by sliced potatoes and carrots piled pyramid fashion within the conical clay pot and drenched in oil and spices before being slow-cooked over a charcoal fire – fantastic! We succumbed and bought one along the roadside later – will have to try it in the desert one night!
So to Fes: we had the co-ordinates of a camping site (Diamant Vert), so punched these in and took off – dear old Jeepers yelled her re-calculating story immediately, because none of these roads were on her map!! But we headed in vaguely the right direction, determined we’d come right one way or the other. About 2kms outside Fes we hit our first motorised tout – a hustler on a moped, who swung up alongside, grinning amiably and offering us all sorts of kindly advice and directions. At first we ignored him, then John got aggressive – it was quite difficult trying to concentrate on the road, the traffic (of course it’s peak hour as we hit town, as usual), and now this guy calling to us and telling us which way to go! He trailed us for ages, yelling and calling and saying he was only trying to be our friend – then decided he was getting nowhere so drove in front of us and slowed down to about 10kms an hour. Only when we almost flattened him did he decide we were serious about the No, and took off, his brown eyes welling with tears at how he was “only trying to help us!”
And we promptly got lost!
An hour later and we were still trying to find our way around – which we did – mark one up to Jeepers!! She got us there, despite enormous roadworks and diversions and all sorts of stuff, and the fact that the road she shows just no longer exists. Unfortunately the campsite is really scruffy and overgrown, the facilities a bit shoddy - and completely empty. I have a standing rule about restaurants – never eat in an empty one, so we decided this applied to campsites too.
So we took off again, looking for the other one in our guidebook, Camping International – which incidentally our motorised hustler had been trying to lead us to a few hours back! John had co-ords for that too, but they led us up the garden path to the back of a very derelict housing complex: the guide book said ‘near the stadium’ so we eventually followed directions for the Complexe de Sportif – and after backwards and forwardsing a couple of times – here we are! Camping International – and Garth, you will be delighted to know we are actually camping again!!
Huge site, several French and a Portuguese camper van and one other range rover with a tent on top and Brit number plates, out on the town tonight – best of all, a choice of toilet facilities both squat-style and bowl-style. Hallelujah! Having hung on for dear life for the past few hours I dived in and relaxed – utter bliss – until I had to get out, and the door had jammed shut, no handle on the inside! Much yelling and shouting and 20 minutes later, the security guard arrived to kick at the door.
Oi vey, what is it about me and toilets?? Turns out this is a common occurrence - perhaps it doesn't get fixed for a reason??
Chatted to the Brits in the range rover before leaving to explore Fes this morning – two young couples on their way back now, Nick actually lives in Ightham, 7 miles from Sevenoaks!! Small world. Swapped stories, compared notes, heard about their trip to Zagora ‘off piste’ where they broke their air suspension – hmmm, that’s still to come!
Some major housekeeping – can you believe you still have to housekeep, even when all you have is a land rover and a tent??? Then it was time to meet Amina, our guide for the day. The Brits had told us a funny story about also being met by a motorised tout on their way in, and agreeing to him guiding into the medina later. “Don’t tell the people at the camp,” he said. “They’re mafia!” So they said nothing, but while doing the paperwork to check in, the owner went off to anser a phone call. Came back and looked at them sternly. “The man who was going to meet you at 6pm will not be coming,” he said. “Shall I arrange a guide for you?”!!!
So we met with official Amina, she showed us her Touriste Carte, we agreed on the day – her idea was a taxi ride around the outer walls, a quick walk through the medina, then visits to the carpet guys, jewellery etc etc. Ours was a petit taxi at 1/10th the price, the morning going round the souk/medina to see the genuine article, a visit to the tannery and perhaps the weaving. Humph, humph, much “Of course, whatever you want, but...” I looked at her shoes – she was not planning a long walk!
But she was very good, gave us some potted history on the way in, about how the Berbers make up 70% of Morocco, have 3 distinct ‘tribes’ with 3 distinct dialects, yet have no written language! Hassan II (current King’s father) married a Berber woman, and he pressurised for a lingua franca, a written language which all Berbers now use.
The medina was barely open when we got there, just a lot of the artisans, but that was great, because that was what we wanted to see. We went in through the gate (there are 14) where the construction workers sell/work/buy – one shop sells just table legs, one has dozens of different grades of sawdust! For what?? Piles of cement stacked just visible through a minute entrance – and rows of pack donkeys laden with deliveries standing patiently outside. Amazing shops – dark caves packed floor to ceiling with whatever is their speciality. And wonderful artisans – carpenters, turners, all beavering away. We obviously started at the ‘top’ of the medina, because the entire day was spent going downhill – narrow cobbled alleyway led into even narrower cobbled alleyway – there are officially 9400 alleyways in Fes medina! Not the place to get lost!
I loved the shops – they opened slowly as we progressed, each one selling only his specific item of trade – incredibly narrow caverns, probably only 5-6 foot wide by 10 foot deep – most have a counter across the front, and a long rope hanging from the ceiling by which they jump over the counter to get out!! The shop is jammed – floor to ceiling with goods: everything is available here! Bags of spices elbow next to the sunglasses shop, pantaloons (so that’s what they wear under the jellebas!!) next to a vivid display of tangerines (naartjies to us S Africans). The chicken man with live chickens on the shelf at the back – you select one, he cuts its throat, plucks and dresses it while you wait – that’s fresh! The tiny little cell in the corner, where a man sits cross-legged, adze in hand, carving cow horns to make the most delicate combs, spoons, hair ornaments – the slightly bigger shop where a silversmith with his little Bunsen burner painstakingly inserts silver strips around a glass. I could spend hours here, just watching each one! But Amina keeps looking around – “Am I walking too fast?” she enquires. We get the message and hurry on. She wants to take us to the carpet demonstration; we say we’re not buying, she says that’s okay, just look. Of course the proprieter rushes across, “Bonjour, you from England? Fish and chips!” That’s standard greeting – either that or “From Yorkshire?” What’s with the Yorkshire bit – must be the Islamic city of Bradford!! Anyway, he starts his usual spiel of offering mint tea while he goes into lyrical stories of how this one’s made etc etc – John says very clearly we’re not buying, under any circumstances, and suddenly the offer of mint tea disappears and he wanders off. We look around a bit – there seriously are some beautiful carpets here, but we seriously are not in the market!
Then it’s off down some more alleyways – we walk along one that is impossible to pass in – no shops here, just doorways leading off into houses Amina tells us “are very very beautiful” – hard to imagine in this dark dank environment, but presumably they have openings to the sky and lots of light inside. Certainly no windows! We get accosted by a young woman down one of these – a pro here in Morocco?? She certainly wasn’t selling mint tea!
Through the woodworking area, where a craftsman is carving the most beautiful cedar and sandalwood boxes next to a fast-service man who’s nailing plywood together to make the most garish wedding chairs!! What a difference in style! Then it’s to the tannery – and my heart stops!
Here is real old Morocco – the same families have worked here for generations, it has to be the worst job in the world: smelly as all hell (the leather shop proprieter (yes of course you have to view this from a shop!!) hands out sprigs of mint as you walk in, “to help the smell”) wet – they stand in or on vats of filthy water all day long, turning and rinsing and dousing huge great hides – camel, cow, goat, sheep. They have a colour a week – this week is yellow – and each Friday all this filthy water is simply turfed into the river running through. “Doesn’t make problem, “ our man explains, “No chemicals, just natural colours.” Ja, that’s why the guys have got blue legs???? But it’s an incredible sight, one not to be missed under any circumstances.
We never bought any leatherwork, but did get caught at the next stop, the weaving demonstration. Again, an amazing demonstration of genuine weaving, the guys were making the most intricate cloth: one chap stands there for hours, taking two ends of cotton, twisting them together to join them, then cutting the rest off, ready to weave. Patience!! Apparently it takes about 10 days to make a 10 metre piece of fancy cloth, the sort you’d use to make a special jellebah.
I’d wanted one anyway, and so did John, so the game was on. We chose mine, starting at 1250 dirhams, John offered 500. “What? Where you learn to barter like this? You Berber?” Anyway, much wailing and gnashing of teeth later, hands were shaken on 700. Not bad! Then it was time to buy John’s. Almost in tears, the guy said “I can’t bargain any more,” and gave it to him for 600!!! It was fun.
Not so the restaurant Amina then decided to dump us in – she’d had enough by now, obviously realising she wasn’t going to get much in the way of sales kick-backs for us, so said it was lunchtime. She tokk us into a really smart place – we decided no go – boy do they see the tourists coming! There were at least 3 other tables occupied, all tourists, mainly Americans, no locals. Not surprising at those prices! Probably four times the cost of any previous meals. So, after a lot of bad yelling and shouting, we left, slightly bitter taste in our mouths. But as John says, it’s one thing to be slightly ripped off, it’s another to be fleeced completely!
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A hot shower, then it was off to the Marjane to stock up on necessities – despite being a genuine proper supermarket, there are huge baskets of loose rice, pasta, dried fruit, spices – absolutely amazing! Never find that in Waitrose – health and safety and all that.
Then once again a search for an internet spot – another hike up to the 2nd floor to find a fast service, smiling attendant. Great to find several messages on our message board – wonderful to know people are reading our goings on and contacting us – keep it up guys!!
Destination today was Zeida, via Imouzzer and Ifrane – after a quick lunch stop amongst the olive trees to ear up the remains of some pate and a fresh round loaf, and it was off to the mountains. Can’t say I’m sad to see the end of Fes – we’re really not the souk/night-life kind of people, and out in the boondocks is where we want to be. That’s where we found ourselves – in the boondocks!!
Climbing rapidly from 582m to 1427m, through little villages with much smaller farms now, old water courses everywhere – most broken, so water literally is coursing everywhere! Grape vines (for sultanas etc, not wine!) veggies (nice crop of red tomatoes in one), lots of cultivation. Then suddenly we come into a village that turns into a ski resort type scenario – the old mingles quite happily with the new – smart men in sunglasses sipping coffee at a cafe watch the old woman riding her donkey laden with turnips through the main street!
Honey sellers at the side of the road now, and huge jars of oil – is that the argun oil the herbalists were talking about in Fes, ground from the ‘argun’ tree – what is an argun tree?? Lots of trees that look like a sort of oak/beech here, dark green leaves, little coned nuts. We’re also now definitely in the cedar forests – huge, unbelievably huge cedar pines tower up into the sky, most easily 5ft in circumference. Obviously been marked for cutting, because there are red crosses and numbers on a lot of the bigger trees. To hang with the Cedars of Lebanon – I’d say these Cedars of Morocco take some beating!
And then we’re in Ifrane – and it’s like being in an alpine village somewhere in Europe – smart stone chalets, well made streets lined with decorative trees, water channels carefully shaping the roads – and an absolute ghost town! The summer holiday home of the local wealthy, or of foreign ski visitors? Not where we want to be, so we head out smartly.
To a split in the road: we take the road to Azrou to take a look, decide that’s not what we want, so head back out towards . One thing we have discovered is that our 1998 Rough guide is very very out of date! Not only do most of the campsites etc not exist, the prices are disastrously wrong even with inflation, and many of the roads have changed. So it becomes it bit of a game to see where we’ll land up once we’re off the beaten track. And of course, Jeepers just throws her hands up in horror and drones on “re-calculating, re-calculating” until we shut her up!
We decided, with some ‘discussion’ to take the road less travelled, and turned off the main road to do a 100km “scenic route” to Itzer and thence Zeida, our destination. Not another vehicle for the next 40kms on a very battered tar road, but a fabulous trip through beautiful forests and rocky flatlands, past little Berber villages that consisted of only several long tents and a lot of sheep. And an occasional shepherd lolling on the side of the road or leaning on a stick back in the forest.
By about 4pm, we decided we weren’t going to make Zeida tonight, so started looking for somewhere to rough camp. You always look for that perfect spot of course – somewhere facing west so we’d get the last of the sun, flat piece of green land, far enough away from the villages to not have the hordes of kids attacking us hand held out for ton-tons, etc etc.
After an hour or so, we found a flattish rocky piece on top of a little rise – bit of hill-climb, and Lavinia was parked almost level, looking down on two bends of the road. We set up camp, lit the gas for a brew-up – and the traffic started!! Within the next two hours, we must have had 30 vehicles trundle past – where the hell had they all been?? Of course once the sun went down, our fire stood out like a beacon, and they all slowed way down to inspect – then waved merrily and carried on – but it was a bit noisy at first.
It was also freezing cold – we were some 1720m up, and it was icy! John made a rip-roaring Franklin fire, but all that did was frizzle my knees while my butt froze!! A quick dinner cooked on the fire (I think out gas is getting low – was half-empty when we left Sevenoaks), and by 7.30pm I couldn’t stand it any more and bailed into bed! We’re getting 12 hours sleep these nights – it’s too cold to stay up late and too cold to get up early! Could do with some of that Sevenoaks central heating right now – or an old-fashioned Victorian bed-warmer!
The other fun thing about this campsite though is that we have Barbary apes nearby – we could hear them chattering away early on, and then saw them this morning. Wonderful!!
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It was seriously freezing last night – I have no idea what the temperature was, but it got to the point I was almost ready to get up and search for more clothes than I had on – and I already had about 6 layers on!! Thank God for a king-size down duvet and a husband like a hot-water bottle!!
Today was another absolutely glorious drive – glory only knows where that “100km scenic route” was, because we’ve already done about 160kms and we’re still not at the end – but then, we have also got lost a few times today too, so I guess that doesn’t help.
It’s amazing – driving through absolutely nowhere, miles from anywhere – and suddenly there are two men on the side of the road digging great big holes – what for?? Signposts?? We haven’t seen one for dozens of miles!
We’re still driving through the most stunning forests – it’s no surprise to come on a Berber village, women hauling water from a well, washing clothes at the side of the road from a spring that runs down the cliff face, men ploughing rocky fields with donkey and hand-carved wooden plough – these forests are ancient, and so’s the tradition around here!
What’s new of course is that at every village, and they are more proliferous now, hordes of kids rush out to greet you, hands waving at you in theworld-wide symbol of sweets, sweets. If you stop at a barren spot, within seconds there is a crowd at the door, all calling “bonjour, bonjour” with big brown eyes – it’s saddening to see how we (travellers and the western world I think) have created generations of beggars like this.
We finally reached L’Oum er Rbia – a famous cascade/waterfall picnic spot apparently. Actually just another little village aside a hill, but this one has a river running through it – and the locals have made good use of their cascading river – stands set up for river rats, kayakers, the like – I’d say it’s probably a popular spot in summer. Now it’s empty apart from us – and suddenly we have a fork in the road. A big new road off to the left, but both our map and Jeepers who’s currently talking to us, tell us to go right.
Undecided, we falter, and a man comes to assist. I think he’s waving at us to turn around and go the other way – no, he’s actually telling us to pull over, stop, some visit him for some mint tea. Well, it’s been a while since breakfast, John had just been talking about coffe, so why not?
Into a little two room shack, barren except for a stove and gas burner in one room, several brightly coloured mats and cushiuons in another – and a single globe dangling from the ceiling. The rooms are freezing – no heating whatsoever, so I wander around outside to stay warm and take some pics of the outside over and the chickens, while he runs across the street to the lady sweeping her porch – he comes back a few second later with a clutch of eggs. We ‘re getting breakfast too!
Wife arrives from the back somewhere, and within minutes he is pouring us mint tea – has to be poured high above the cup so that it froths, and a fry-pan of eggs – we dip a homebaked charred loaf into this – it’s delicious! All the while he keeps up a FreAraGlish banter with John which I can just about follow, about how he’s a hunter (shows us pics of himself with a rifle and a dead bird in his hands), has brother in Strasbourg, many guest in summer to see water, etc etc. Gets a bit more complicated when we try to get directions out of him, but the sort of gist is, gouche, more gouche, gouche again (left, left, left). Ha ha!!
We make it down to the volcanic lake on our maps (and Jeepers is happy), then things go all wrong. The road disintegrates rapidly, the gouches take us nowhere fast except down a track towards a cheerful looking party on donkeys – the track is not one to be negotiated after rain!! The group look great – obviously off to a wedding or something: the first donkey has a girl, a young women and a woman in white aboard, led by a man who is very smartly dressed. They are followed by several more donkeys, each carrying at least three women, and a host of kids and men, all full of smiles. When we get close enough to ask for directions, however, I have to change my ideas – the woman in white must be in her 60s – late marriage?? Unfortunately none of their FreAraGlish is up to the mark, but we do get the general idea that to continue down this tracK is NOT a good idea! As it’s starting to rain, we decide to take their advice, and backtrack to the lake.
Here we find someone in a coke tent (no jokes!) and he says, no go back 7kms, and “gouche” – okay guys, got the message!!
We did eventually find the right road – it’s what we’re still on now – we haven’t found Itzer yet, but no doubt we will tomorrow! The driver of a big red truck (old one) and a shepherd both say this is the right road – and they should know. Even though it has in turn disintegrated into a muddy morass, a jerry-built bridge crossing where the previous one had been washed away and replaced with rocks and logs, many many patches where the road hangs on the side of a cliff by a hairs-breadth – but we keep seeing people, and the very occasional vehicle, so we’re still going. And east is the sort of right direction??
We decided to stop earlier tonight, so started looking at about 3pm. Edges of the road was a bit precarious, too close to the drop-off edge or too close to the rocks rolling down, looked at a couple of climb-up-the-hill jobbies – then came across a beautiful flat green piece of ground, next to a little stream, under the cedar trees – and no villages nearby. Paradise!! Hauled in, got out the Kelly kettle – it works a treat Jake – and made a cuppa Yorkshire tea. Of course no sooner had we done that than a shepherd appeared from behind a tree. Most intrigued with the Kelly kettle – think we could sell a few up here, but wouldn’t accept our offer of a cuppa – guess he only drinks Berber whiskey – mint tea. Then an old guy arrived, and after polite greetings etc made it very clear he badly needed a new pair of wellington boots – well, at least he knew exactly what he wanted! John donated his old yellow crocs, which brought forth gales of laughter – but he took them anyway!
A wonderful braai of Moroccan spiced chicken and Jenny spiced roast butternut, a glass of not so good Ei1.50 lt Spanish white wine – and it’s 9pm, time for bed!! It’s beginning to rain – wonder what that will do to tomorrow’s road??
It poured with rain all night – started off very well, with a wonderful Franklin-size fire and Moroccan spicy chicken and butternut roasted on the braai – thanks to Rudy’s braai grid!! But it got progressively colder and we got closer to the fire – once the wood had burned off, and the rain started seriously, we decided to call it a day: stowed the awning (up for the drizzle, not the sun), and dived under the duvet.
Of course we’d forgotten that camping under the cedar trees would be somewhat like sleeping under a dripping tap-tap-tap-tap all night!! What with that and the worry about whether the river would come down in a flash flood (mine) and whether the rain would was the road away completely (John’s), we both slept somewhat spasmodically. I had just dropped into a wonderful deep sleep when a particularly loud whoosh of wind woke me (did I tell you the wind was howling through the tops of the cedars some 80-100ft up yet we felt not a breath?) and I suddenly remembered I hadn’t switched the inverter off – I’d been charging my computer while we drove, and just forgot about it! So, in the pouring rain, here I was slipping down ladders into the mud to sort things out – it was my problem, after all.
Crack of dawn we were both up and raring to go – it seemed the rain hadn’t been as bad as we’d thought – perhaps it was mainly those drips after all. Anyway, it was soon obvious that the worst of the road was over, and we had a glorious drive through the rest of the forest to finally reach Itzer, our destination for the past two days. Taken us a lot longer than expected, but it was a trip well worth the doing.
Neither Itzer nor Zeida held any attraction – perhaps it was just too early in the morning! But we stopped at Timnay Camp to grab some breakfast and some information about the road across the mountains we wanted to take. Theyrun 4x4 trips from there, and have some very helpful people. We also met up with two young Swiss guys, Joram (Ram) and Muri, also aiming for Meski tonight and then into the desert thereafter. Maybe we’ll see them and their Toyota pickup later.
The Timnay guy gave us the nod for the piste road, “do it now,” he said, “because it may snow soon.” Sounds like good advice, but we need to get gas, get casg, do emails, buy some food – so we’ll go on to Meski for tonight (sleeping amongst the palm trees sounds good!) then come back and do it tomorrow.
Gas we got just outside the gate – one of those little do-everything shops: not only did John get an exchange gas bottle, he bought a new one (well, new is a relative word here) with a cooker ring, some clothes pegs, some locks and 3 briguet lighters – all for the princely sum of 117 dirhams – the gas refill cost 12 (£1) as against £27 in Sevenoaks!! Mind you, the gas bottles would never be allowed across the border into the UK – these are derelict 3rd World stock, to say the least. But everyone uses them, so now so do we – but we do now carry them outside the vehicle, not inside!!
We climbed up the mountainside again, to a height of 1907m, and stopped for lunch – barren, deserted, cold spot, but with a stunning view back across the valley behind us. Pulled out the cooker, put on the kettle, got the loaf we’d just bought and started cutting some chorizo – and out of the rocks popped a man wanting cigarettes, beer, bread, shoes, anything! Where the hell did he come from? Refusing to give him anything else, we made a cup of tea (not to his tsate) and I made both him and John a fat sandwich – and out popped another one! They materialise out of the rocks like djinns these guys! They’re like ants or mosquitoes, just hone in on the smell of “touriste”. I drew the line at the 3rd and 4th guys, and we left sooner than planned. Will be more careful where we stop in future.
The houses have changed quite dramatically along here: all clay/mud, they are single storey squat buildings that blend in completely with the drab dusty brown landscape – so much like the Karoo it’s amazing. Each home has little castellated fringes along the flat roof – looks very attractive. But the town’s are really uninteresting, especially by 3pm when everything’s closed up anyway!
In to Source Bleue de Meski, recommended by several people, a bit tired looking camp site under the palm trees, lovely surroundings. Unfortunately you are also surrounded by touts as soon as you stop: lots of little kids bonjouring, trying to sell camels made of plaited palm leaves or just generally making a nuisance of themselves. And lots of youth, one up from the kids, eying out what’s in the vehicle, asking for cigarettes, wanting to “be your friend”. One in particular was really pushy, apparently works there – after about an hour of hassling, John got really stroppy and told him he wasn’t invited to our campsite, wasn’t welcome and should please leave. Well, hissy fit extraordinaire, but at least he left, muttering imprecations and curses about the “disrespectful English”. I think we pissed him off!
Still, it was a fairly okay experience – not like our Swiss friends had. Ram and Mury had arrived earlier, been given the “souvenir shop grande tour” and somehow got conned into bargaining for/swapping things for/buying some stuff which they didn’t have enough cash for. Ram said he’d pay tomorrow, they said no, they’d take him in to town to draw money. Which they did – and then the game was on. I think buying some illegal beers also came into the story somehow, but the long and short of it was that these guys scared the living daylights out of Ram, who came back some 3-4 hours later, eyes like saucers, quite freaked out by his experiences. They’d hucked him for more money, got really aggressive, got him totally lost then abandoned him in a cafe for 40 mins or so – he got back, as he said, feeling very lucky he still had his kidneys! The two were worried enough that they kept watch over the vehicle all night – and of course it didn’t help that a late-night mob of yelling and shouting men marched around us later in the night – Ram said “Are they singing ‘Kill the Infidel?’ It utrned out it was only a group celebrating their return from the Haj, but to an already paranoid due, it was nerve-racking!
All in all, the Source Bleue was not a good experience – they left after one night having planned to stay 2, we had planned to stop on the way down to the desert but certainly will not do so. I know a lot of it was probably their naivety, but both John and I felt hassled there as well. A great pity.
This has to be one of the most spectacular drives I’ve ever done! We drove back to Rich, then cut across on what Trax said was an “off-road track” towards the High Atlas. Off-road it certainly was – real Toby roads at times! From Anouga to Outerbate was tar, fairly okay road, but once we turned off towards Boumalne and the Dades Gorge, we were seriously offroad. Jeepers shows the town of Agoudal on the map, but as soon as we took off, complains “cannot find route”! The road’s good so far, but narrow, which makes it exciting meeting oncoming vehicles – the big trucks politely pull over to let us pass, the smaller ones put two wheels on the gravel so we slide past each other, but the taxis seem to feel it’s a point of honour to play chicken and stay in the middle of the road until the last possible second – if you go off, they’re delighted!
The buses and taxis are packed, and even the big trucks are now carrying passengers – riding on top of their load, perched very precariously in the freezing cold! The road winds around the mountainside, hugging it tightly as we tortuously chug further and furth
Not a long day today, but a fairly frustrating one. After leaving our river bed camps ite last night, we discovered a diesel leak in the high pressure injecter system: John being John, this had to be attended to immediately, so we pulled into a hotel/restaurant to make some phone calls back to Curt at Nene Overland in UK.
Which brings me to another point: how do you know when to stop and when to carry on?? Last night, in some panic at the encroaching dark, we pulled off onto this dry river bed, having seen no habitation other than villages for miles. Driving on another few miles this morning, we find hotel city - dozens of hotels, auberges, camping sites etc - just a little further and we'd have been in a decent campsite! Still, we were snug and warm in our tent, and the river didn't come down in a flash flood - and as John says, it cost us nothing!
A call to Curt over breakfast in the hotel, which turned out to be a stop for walkers and tours - and we met Keith & Barb from Ottowa and Paula from New Zealand, who put us in touch with their very efficiant tour guide Essallah Chabaoui who put us in touch with his father, chief of police in Tinehir, who has mechanics at his fingertips!
So a trip down the rest of Dades Gorge to Boumaine Dades, a startlingly modern town, pink buildings glowing in the early morning sun, then along a wonderful tar road to Tinehir to meet Mr Chabaoui.
A long straight road, running at 1557m through sparse dry vegetation, no farming up here except sheep and goats. And the wind is howling - huge clouds of desert sand suddenly swirling aroundeverywhere - not a day to be out in the dunes! As we climb slightly into Tinehir and look back, we can see the dune line, marked by clouds of red sand.
We hit Tinehir on market day - cars, trucks, taxis, donkeys, buses, people everywhere! We drove through slowly, looking for the mechanic, but it's almost impossible to identify a shop unless you have the real name and all we had was the mechanic's name! So John phoned Mr Chabaoui, only to have a rattle of fast French spattered at him - unable to understand much, he managed to get across that we had a problem, knew Essallah, and needed help. Then phoned Essallah again - while talking to him, a big Merc pulled up next to us, out jumped a very I'm-a-policeman-looking man who walked straight over to us and tapped on my window. Mr Chabaoui had found us!
Which leads to another aside - as all vehicles here are obviously left-hand drive, people assume I'm the driver. I'm the one who gets glared at in the taxi chicken game of who's going to get off the road - I think in future I'll throw my hands up to show them I don't have my hands on the steering wheel and see what that does!
Mustafa the mechanic (yes, I am serious!!) says it's going to be a "fife hour job" so we decide to bring the vehicle in early tomorrow, and explore the Todra Gorge ect today - I have a horrid feeling it may land up being more than a five hour job!!
So it's off up the Gorge which all the guide books rave about, and I have to admit to being somewhat disappointed - yesterday's ride and the Dades Gorge was far more spectacular. But it's interesting, and is home to lots of climbing groups - the sheer cliff faces attract extreme climbers who are climbing with basic equipment - fascinating to watch.
Then we tripped back to where we could get off at the side of the river for a lunch break - amongst the ladies picking olives and the washer-women and the tanker taking on water - from below where the women were washing so I trust that wasn't for drinking purposes! The kelly kettle came into its own again - in the wind, the gas burners were very ineffective!
We found the accomodation Essallah had recommended, and old kasbah, huge thick walls and cavernous rooms - and hot water!! A hot shower was definately called for! But first we had to park Lavinia and sort out one of the drawers which had jammed shut. The Tombouctou Hotel provides safe parking in a compound around the corner, and here we put the tent up to air it (it had got soaked with condensation last night because we foolishly didn't leave anything open), and started the fixing process. Everything of course had to come out of the back to get thedrawer box John made out - we wiggled and wriggled and pushed and shoved, but eventually had to cut a piece of the front out so we could get the bottles in the firsat division out, flatten the division, then slowly get the second lot out. Turned out it was the tall olive oil bottle we had bought in Spain jamming the top - maybe got shaken out of place in all the rock climbing and bumping in the last few days!
Anyway, problem finally sorted, I had my shower - oh my it was bliss! What's that advert?? Price of hotel - not bad, cost of lunch, cheap - enjoyment of first hot shower in four days - priceless!! I forgot to say the showers at Source Bleue, although they looked clean enough, cost 10 dirhams and were cold!
Dinner was great fun - Keith & Barb and Paula were at the same hotel, and Essallah joined us later. Great to swop stories - Keith & Paula are out for a couple of weeks, and Paula's on a 5-6 month journey! From Ottowa and New Zealand.
Essallah has been a great help, and is a fasconating mine of information - works with Morocco Explored Tours and Treks www.moroccoexplored.com who take out small groups for a really personal, meet the real people Moroccan experience - the sort of tour if we were going do a tour we'd do! Not a 20 city-9 day, it's Tuesday therefore it's Brussels type bus-whip round.
Dinner was in a tent - unfortunately the wind was howling so much that the side of the tent kept blowing in on us, making it quite chilly, but a couple of bottles of red wine sorted that out! Our room is narrow and very high-ceilinged, with only one little window aperture - but it's cozier than the top of the land rover would have been tonight! As John says, it pays every few days to take some luxury - and at 690 dirhams for the two of us, dinner, bed and breakfast, it's not expensive (about £57).
Tomorrow's another day - we hope the landie's fixed early so we can get off to Mazourga and the desert - but if the weather's anything like this tomorrow, maybe we won't! I'm certainly planning to use as much of the day as I can as a work day - and there's free internet here, another priceless.
John had Lavinia up with Mustafa at 8am, expecting a long delay as he said he'd have to take the air conditioning unit off as well - like always, the job seems to stretch. So we prepared ourtselves for a a long wait, and settled in to doing some computer work. I was delighted, because I really needed some time on editing!! And it is a foul miserable day out there - cold, raining, very very windy - sand blowing every which way, stinging like billy-oh!
But by midday, Essallah's wonderful father was back to collect John, to take a test drive - evrything done and dusted and hunky-dory!! However, we decided to take the more comfortable option, and spend another day in Ti nehir.
Moved into an upstairs room - lovely, big and airy, nice big windows letting in light, very cosy. So I spent the rest of the day working, while John did all sorts of things - coming back from a walk around the town with a No.1 haircut (boy, the Americans know nothing about brush-cuts - there's no hair there at all!!!) and a very heavy warm jellebah! And promptly hauled me out to Abdurrahim's shop to buy a day-t-o-day wear one for me too. So now, after all the yelling and shouting about womens' rights etc, I am the proud possessor of not one but two jellebahs!! This one is kashmir, hand-sticthed, beautifully warm - I wore it for the rest of the day, and will certainly continue to wear it in the desert - for comfort of course, nothing else!!
At dinner we were joined by the Chans, a delightful couple from Singapore also on a Morocco Explored tour, and it was fun to chat with them.
Early retirement to our lovely room, lots more work done - it was a good lay day!
Time to move on – it’s a different kind of day today. Sun’s shining, no rain, no wind – desert dunes, here we come!
Everybody obviously felt the same way: Tinehir was buzzing when we left, to a great send off from Jamil Mohammed the cabinet maker – it has a different feel to many of the towns we’ve come through so far. Maybe like Brits! John had a great time frootling around in all the little shops on the souk – came back most excited because he said you could get absolutely anything here!
The shops here are great – there’s no concern whatsoever for window dressing or display. When the shop’s closed, it’s screened off by huge garage-like metal doors – when it’s open, it’s a poky little area half the size of a traditional Western car garage, usually with a counter in front, and stocked top to toe with his specific speciality. Makes no difference if it’s a shop selling scarves, selling groceries, fixing cars – it’s all the same.
Tinejdad, the next town, was bicycle city – we’re driving along a long dead flat valley between high ridges, and cycling is the standard way of getting around. The female dress has changed away from the big cities: here it’s more a practical longish skirt and sort-of blouse top, and they all wear a shawl wrap-around. A lot more head-scarves are worn though, but I’m not sure if that’s for any reason other than it’s necessary to use the scarf to cover your face against the wind! The young girls all walk around with brightly coloured soft scarves completely covering their face, but that’s definitely against the wind and sand.
But as we progress south, the women begin to be more traditionally covered: the next town I think is Jorf (as an aside, not one single town has a sign to say what it is, and very few are actually marked on our Michelin map, so often we’re guessing!!), and it’s market day. The shops have come to town, The place is alive, people, donkeys, stalls, trucks, bicycles everywhere – the main road through is virtually wall to wall jammed which means we have to drive through slowly. Which is great, because I can snap away without interruption! But it looks like a bunch of crows have landed – each stall-holder is inundated with black-garbed, fully veiled women gesticulating and yelling as they bargain for their week’s goods. It’s fascinating!
Once out of town, we speed along a very good tar road towards Erfoud. In places, irrigation channels run either side, watering great swathes of gardens; dates palms are everywhere, but I’m not sure what they will be growing here. Their method of irrigation seems to be to drench the “paddy” and then leave it . 2km outside Erfoud there is a magnificent compound; as we draw nearer we see it is marked Palais deDesert – no hotel this, it’s King Mohammed VI’s desert palace - very smart. The outskirts of Erfoud in fact are a bit like Las Vegas - we counted six 5-star hotels and five 4-star in a very short space, and that was without going into town! Guess the entourage has to have somewhere to stay.
We can see the red dunes of Erg Chebbi in the distance, and it’s certainly tourist area now – signs for hotels/auberges/restaurants/4x4 trips/camel trails make up for the lack of trees. Essakkah told us to “follow the yellow rock road”, so that’s what we do – turn off at the yellow sign for Yasmina, and follow the yellow painted rocks across the harsh terrain for about 14kms. As we get closer to the dunes, so the signs spring up again: there are dozens of what they call Kasbahs along here – accommodation of one sort or another built in the style of the old Kasbahs or forts, nestled against the red dunes. I must admit it looks rather splendid, even if a lot of it is just tourist stuff.
Kasbah Yasmina is one such: looking at the buildings, there was obviously an old original Kasbah here, but it’s been remodelled and developed into a very nice hotel area, right on the edge of the dunes, with camels lazing around outside and a Berber tent village nestled against the dunes just to add authenticity and colour! We’re here for information only though, and they agree to let us park in the ground and camp out – we have a slightly strained dinner with initially just the two of us and about seven attendants, then fortunately another two French guys arrive which takes some of the pressure off. However, we duck when they start to play drums at about 9pm!!
Ebrahim tries hard to sell us a camel trip into the dunes, but we manage to resist! “You can see the sun rise,” he says winningly. Hmmm – he obviously doesn’t know I like to sleep late!!
Up at 6am to see this sunrise – I hadn’t realised how cold the sand would be at that time of the morning, and by the time we got up the dunes my feet had frostbite! Good enough scene, but I’d have actually got much the same view if I’d stayed snug in my bed and looked out of the tent window. Still, you live and learn.
Then it was off to Merzouga to find Ali Mouni, a friend of Vince Cobley’s who has all the know-how on the piste trail we wanted to take. Shows what a small world this is out here – we;d just driven into town when a land rover pulled up next to us and a smiling man jumped out. “British!” he said. “You know Vince?” So we followed Al across the dunes and sand to ‘his place’ which of course turned out to be another hotel, the Nomad Palace, and sat and had a cup of mint tea with him and chatted – he telling us lots about the dunes and what he did, and us asking lots of questions about the road etc etc. He asked if we had GPS co-ordinates, which we don’t - just a Michelin two which shows one road and another map which shows a slightly different road – both of which run very very close to the Algerian border. As feelings between Morocco and Algeria run high at the best of times, too close to the Algerian border was NOT where we wanted to be!
Anyway, Ali sorted them out for us – which entailed a run back to Merzouga (on the tar road this time which actually ran parallel to the fancy trail he’d taken us on earlier!), to meet Hassan, who gave us a beautifully hand-written A-4 page of co-ordinates – something like 32 or so of them. What a treat!!
And let me tell you, it came in very very useful – that huge sand and wind-storm of a couple of days ago had wiped out part of the tracks, moved dunes, sanded over the road – we got ourselves lost just trying to FIND the road out of Rimlia!! As we arrived in the town, a genuine centuries-old oasis with potable water – the nomads must have been using these trails for eons – but as we arribved we were mobbed by urchins of every size and shape – and one older boy who was obviously simple, slightly retarded. He hung on the side of the car, slobbering slightly, saying “piste difficile, difficile” and pointing off in another direction to what Jeepers was pointing us in. We smiled and thanked him and said we’d try it anyway – then had to come back in when we couldn’t find the way out – and he came rushing over again and we all went through the same scenario. By the thirs time, we decided to listen – takes some of us a while you know.
Now he made it obvious he thought we were the idiots, and wouldn’t tell us anything, but insisted he had to get in the vehicle to show us! So, chuck everything into the back seat so I could perch, and with a grin and a giggle he climbed into the passenger seat. “Direct,” Hamid said pointing straight ahead, and proceeded to lead us by the short and curlies around the trees – but we were sort of running with Jeepers, just 500m or so off, so we thought it would be all; right. He had a ball – yelling at us to gun it up the inclines through the thick soft sand, cheering and slapping his hands together when we burst over the top bouncing and careering like maniacs!! This continued for maybe 5kms, then he suddenly said “Finis” and wanted out. John gave him 50dirhams, I gave him a coke and a Mars bar – but I think his greatest enjoyment was the sneak feel of my butt he took when posing for a photo – sly imp!!
Anyway, having dropped him off to run home, we promptly hit the worst patch of sand I’ve certainly ever been through – low dunes that had simply shifted place, coveriong what obviously had been the track through the wadi and forcing us to wide around backwards and forwards to cover the same ground. It was like dodgem cars! But Lavinia’s a treat – “a dromedaris” one of the roadside touts today told us. “Strong, better than any camel” And he’s right!
Talking camels, we saw a new born one today – mother was sitting on the ground, and as we drove up, this wobbly little thing shakily got off its knees next to her – what a privilege. And saw some desert foxes – local kids have caught and trained them, and use them for Kodak Moments photo opportunities along the road – better than begging anyway!
By 4.30pm we’d decided it was time to call it a day, and pulled off the side of the road – well, the two vague lines we’d been following across the pan that pass as a road, tucked in next to a small koppie, and pitched camp. It’s beautiful – miles and miles of flat sand and pan in front of us, a little basalt outcrop behind us – and the most incredible pitch black velvet sky studded with diamond stars above us.
Not even sex is this good!
Choices today - the road forks, and it's either off-off piste some 160kms to Zagora, or simply off piste about 130kms to Zagora! After some discussion, we decide to take the "easy" route - it's not as if we'll not be getting some rough roads in the future!
Just down the road from our night campsite, we meet Hassan on the side of the road, who had obviously been watching us overnight from his auberge some 2kms away. No offers of tea this time, although he pointed us in the right direction - I guess he was a little chipped we hadn't used his facilities! But it was stunningly beautiful camping out in the open - not a sound, crisp sparkling clear air - and this morning a little desert fox ran across our tracks. Wonderful.
Then a few miles further on a flash land cruiser pulls up next to us and two grinning young men want to know if we're alright - they're off to celebrate Dad's return from Mecca and the vehicle is festooned with purple rosettes! They take off in a roar of dust - no wonder they thought we had a problem - we probably only do between 25-32kph, and they're doing at least 70!!! Still, it's nice to have fresh tracks to follow - this road is very "vague" - it's more a case of point the vehicle in the genral direction and drive, hoping to get to the correct end-point. Anyway, with all this traffic, John checks his rear-view mirror before turning out onto the road again!
It's a cooler day today, very high clouds but slightly overcast which makes for cooler driving. Just as dusty however! We lose the track several times, but always manage to get more or less back on track again - suddenly the term 'side-tracked' has a different meaning! But our lunch time stop is because we are now in a total quandary - three maps plus a GPS and Ali's co-ordinates, and the fork in the road features on none of them and both forks go in the wrong directions! Jeepers keeps saying 'in 200m turn right' - but this leads us over a definite no-no stony area with no sign of anything having travelled it ever before! We stand pondering, John takes a walk up the hill to explore - and out of absolutely nowhere a huge truck appears, trundling up towards us with a JCB strapped on its back!
Yellow stained toothy grin, and the driver agees 'this' pointing sort-of in some direction is the right road - nods effusively when we ask if it's a good road. But everything is very relative here - it certainly got us to Zagora, but it was definately the back door track - and how the hell he got his vehicle and JCB up and down some of the dips and gullies in the track, I'll never know!
Strange sights in the road - 3 surveyors on a strip of graded road about 200m long - airstrip for someone important? Black goats climbing the acacia trees! A series of perhaps 30 piles of rocks along the side of the track, each containing a beautifully lined well, and very deep - yet no sign of habitation for miles. A strange cloud formation - cotton-wool patchwork in the sky above the far-off green line of palms - that's what we're aiming for!
And then we're on tar - God, it's nice! And into Zagora, neat clean well organised town of some size. We find our way to the campsite and arewelcomed by Saiid, who points us to a choice of sites, under the palms or under the olives. We choose the palms, with a donkey tethered nearby. Hot showers (once they've run the water for 20 minutes and then changed the gas bottle),several camper vans with Germans who've been here for 10 days and plan to spend at least another 5 or 6, a restaurant (no cooking tonight!) and free wifi at the camp site.
Pure pleasure.
Sitting under the palm trees, watching John service the landie while some friendly Germans in acampervan do their laundry in a nify little gadget, sort of an oval cannister on a tumbler - fill with clothes, add water, sit with beer in hand and wind the handle to rotate!! The things people think of! I've done it the hard way - sent it off with Mohamed, the owner, to his wife - when I objected to his wife doing my washing when I could do it myself, he said "Here in Morocco we have wife - and we have washing machine!" So she's got it - did the smalls myslef, but she's got 10 days worth of jeans and shirts - bargain at any price!
We're taking a lay day today - need to do some re-stocking etc (and I need to do some work!), and it's a great little place to do this. An oasis, literally, along the Route de Draa - palm trees in a long narrow avenue for miles wind like a ribbon through the brown dusty desert and rocky terrain. Of course it has some disadvantages - our first mozzies found us last night, but a dab of Tabard works wonders.
I''ve been asked several times to add GPS co-ords, so will do so in future. In fact, if you go into the map on the get jealous site and click on the plus sign in the right hand corner, it does enlarge the map - it's a bit finickity, so I'll put them on anyway. Also John's blog has them - www.blog.mailasail.com/soutpielsafari
Time to move on again – we’re all clean and shiny and in proper working order, replenished with fresh veggies from the Zagora souk – time to make for the sea!
Morocco beat Tunisia at soccer last night – don’t know which league or anything else, but it caused a sensation! We’d gone out to the town for an omelette, passed a street cafe with about 20 clients sitting watching TV – with perhaps another 50 hangers-on standing on the pavement. Just as our fresh orange juice was served (as an aside, this is one of the finds of Morocco – freshly squeezed fruit juice – fantastic!!) when Morocco scored – the waiter and half of the patrons in our cafe disappeared around the corner to join the cheering ecstatic crowd at the street cafe!! I think we need a World Cup sticker on Lavinia – that would garner us lots of good will wherever we go!
The noise only got worse – not sure if it was soccer related or Mecca related, but a party next door to us went on until 4am – loud toneless Arab music blaring forth until I wanted to scream – and it stopped just in time for the 4.30am prayer call from the mosque to start! We are both decidedly underslept today.
The Draa Valley that we are driving through is fabulous – a long fairly wide oasis of palm trees and cultivated patches of ground follows the path of the river, winding through dozens of little villages along its way. A combination of old mud ruins, current mud & straw flat roof single storey buildings and new-build pink painted concrete multi-storeys – all the mosques are new builds, which makes one wonder where that money’s coming from – the Saudis? There’s obviously been a lot of rain somewhere higher up, as the river is full to overflowing – these fords actually are fords!
The modes of transport here fascinate me – the poor donkeys carry huge loads, to the point of disappearing completely under the burden, knees buckling at the weight. But then, so do the women! It’s common to see both young girls and old women carrying massive bundles of lucerne fodder or bamboo sticks or bags of grass or leaves. And as for the trucks – well, Bedford must have done as good a business here as Mercedes cars! Packed as high again as their original height, these old 50s/60s vehicles trundle along, beautifully decorated, brightly painted, their owner’s pride and joy as well as his form of income.
Lots of cats around – not many dogs unless they are sheep or goat herders, but everywhere we stop, cats and kittens run out of the woodwork mewing frantically for food. Long pointy ears – maybe some Persian offshoot? They seem to be fairly wild, not exactly pets, not exactly tame, but not feral either. I’m really not sure that Moroccans have pets – the only animals we’ve seen have been useful ones: camels, donkeys, sheepdogs, cats (keep the rats down I guess) – the occasional pack of dogs that’s obviously gone wild and is now roaming free – they’d be the ones that John’s nurse in Sevenoaks would call “rabies bait”!
We cross the Anti-Atlas – so now we’ve done the Middle Atlas, the High Atlas and now the Anti-Atlas – and at 1405m can see the peak of Jebel Toubkal in the distance, the highest peak in the Atlas at 4167m. Another stunning pass down the valley, through Taliouine where the saffron is grown – long beds terraced into the mountainside grow this extremely rare and expensive spice. We stop and buy some – at 40dirhams an ounce, it’s a gift. I’m not sure what Waitrose’s price would be, but I know I don’t usually use it because it’s too expensive! And when we look at the process, I’m not surprised it’s so expensive – it’s literally only the pollen stamens that get used, maybe three stamens per plant! Make a good Christmas present.
And here, high up in the Anti-Atlas, we meet our Moroccan Santa Claus!! He’s fabulous; not too happy with me taking pictures, but prepared to pose for one only! No snow around thank goodness although Julie has sent us one of our street in Sevenoaks which makes me very glad we’re not there, but it just made for a nice jolly feel – being a Muslim country, there’s absolutely no Christmas feel over here at all.
Today’s been like a song: Tamegroute, Tamnagoult, Tazenakht, Tizn ‘n Taghatine, Talioulne, Taroudant, Ouiad-Teima and now finally Agadir – somebody work out the lyrics to that!! And now we’re back at sea level again – 2919m down to 20m; quite a come-down.
Agadir is a big town/city – home to ex-pat Brits, Germans, French etc who congregate here to spend the winter months away from the snow. It was a real culture shock to drive into Camping Agadir after 6 this evening – and find motor-home city here – there must be 150 motor-homes, campervans and caravans parked here, some permanently enough to have their own shrubs and hedges, all with satellite dishes, separate canvas shelters for their chemical toilets parked next to their vans – it’s amazing!! Much suspicion greets us in our dinky little land rover with its tent on top!
Chatting to the only other land rover “traveller” in this plethora od camper vans, John and I were a bit startled when he told us he and his wife (both Italian) were in Morocco for 2 years doing a PhD on “finding a site for Martian landings”!! Very relieved to discover this was actually sites for use as simulated conditions for landings on Mars, not looking for little green men in Morocco!!
Dinner on the beach front tonight – we might even get some fresh fish. Although I’m told it’s more likely to be British fish and chips!!
An early start – there really wasn’t much to hang around for in camper-van city, except a chat with Martin, solo riding around Morocco on an old 1950s motor-bike – says it draws all the crowds!
Then it’s off to Marjane to replenish and stock for Mauritania – not sure what’s there or what we’ll get, so just playing it safe! Although, I’ve been saying all along I won’t buy meat that’s hanging in trees – not sure that the huge carcasses of what I can only assume are camel hanging in the tajine shops and boucheries along the road are any better!!
Other than meat, it’s really just odds and sods we’re buying: we’ve been getting wonderful fresh fruit and veggies along the road, so it’s replacing bottled water, cokes etc really. We’ve held off on buying alcohol, as Mauritania is known to be really sticky if they want, so we’ll stay sober till we hit Senegal, I guess.
It was wonderful driving down the coast road; there’s a whole different feel to everything around here. For one thing, you don’t get the hordes of kids mobbing the car when you stop – several times today we pulled over, to buy bread from a roadside stall, to take photos – usually we’d have left almost immediately to get away from them all, but today no-one bothered us at all. What’s the difference in the culture?
Lots of vegetable gardening – long rows of horticultural tunnels and massive swathes of green cultivation, such a pleasure to see after the days of brown dust and sand. And every now and then a peek of the Atlantic Ocean!
With all of that, it was a fast smooth road, so in between acting as navigator and passing-guide, I did some editing. Did I tell you about that? Being a right hand drive vehicle in a left hand drive country has its disadvantages – one of which being every time we get stuck behind a truck or bus or slow-moving vehicle (which is about every 10 minutes!), I have to interrupt my concentration on dragons and demons and let John know if it’s safe to pass! Can be quite tense at times, because Lavinia does not have a great acceleration, and there are occasions when it’s touch and go and a few choice words pass both our lips!
Then we hit the coast proper – and suddenly all the pink houses disappear, and everything is sparkling white with blue trim – who decides these colour schemes?? It is delightful though, and a refreshing change.
The Atlantic coastline here is quite inhospitable – the Canaries are only some 100lms offshore, but the coastline is rugged and unfriendly – and John says the story amongst yachties is that the harbours and locals are not exactly welcoming either. The surf’s up – huge waves pound the shore, and a fine sea spray billows inland: strange to see again!
Then we’re into Sidi Ifni, a neat seaside town divided into two: the nouvelle on one hill, the old across the valley. The camp site is in the old, stark, bare of shade, but neatly marked out like a tennis court with parking spaces! Several camper vans, all French, clustered around the toilets, and one Austrian van closer to the sea. We park near the Austrian, with a sea view. Settle in, make a cuppa tea, suss the place out.
Thomas, the Austrian, comes over to chat, and we discover we are both heading in the same direction – he’s on his own with Buddy the dog for company and protection, and asks if he can join us in getting down through Mauritania etc. Only with pleasure – the more the merrier, I’d say! And having a dog around is great protection - should have thought of that before leaving Sevenoaks!
Thomas has a string of really dire stories to tell about travelling through the next few sections – let’s hope they’re all rumours! Interestingly, he met Richard some weeks back – Richard was the first “traveller” we met, back in Plymouth waiting to load onto the ferry – he and his wife were off to Gambia. Small world.
How shower tonight – but only after complaining when I couldn’t get any hot water. The guy in reception walked across with me, pointed to the Ladies and said (in sign language) “you use?” I nodded. He shook his head vigorously. “Non, non, probleme, probleme” and pointed to the Gents with a thumbs up. Age old symbol, so I stalked into the Gents, hung my towel over a shower door, stuck my pale blue flip-flops out the door to show “this cubicle’s occupied” and had the most glorious hot shower! Ignoring all other gross male noises coming from the other stalls, I have to say!!
It’s a brave girl who gets a hot shower in Morocco, ladies!
Not sure where we'll be tonight - this is the start of the real trek south, it seems! We now travel along the coast to a large extent, into what was Western Sahara, still an area of major political unrest. Evereything's gone very quiet after the drama in Layoune some 2-3 weeks ago, but the rumours here are flying. Journalists have been banned from the area, and both locals and travellers seem to think that we're just not being told what's happening.
Anyway, we'll see! We've joined up with Thomas (and Buddy the dog), so at least there will be two vehicles together. We're making for Tan-Tan Plage tonight - let's see where we get to.
Not sure if there will be internet, so you might have to pick us up on John's blog for the next few days - at least he can download that by sat phone. www.blog.mailasail.com/soutpielsafari - don't send out the troops unless neither blog has been up for a few days!!!
According to Thomas (who's Austrian) it's not good news to travel with French people, as "the French get kidnapped first, and that Sarkozy ... well, he's just making trouble for us all here." We were laughing about the street names - every little town has a Hassan V Blvd, and a Mohhamed VI Ave - somewhat like Nelson Mandela St everywhere in SA! He thought for a while, then said, "We don't have that in Austria. Only one famous Austrian and we don't have streets named after him!"
So, banking down, electricity accounts paid for Broederstroom - our Travelex Card, sold to us as "the be-all and end-all of getting money from ATMs in Africa" has worked only 3 times out of 14, so that's been a bit of a wash-out. Fortunately we have others ways and means!
Cactus country out here – up in the hills, everything is initially dry, but then we roll into much greener more luxurious vegetation. Little round bushes with star-shaped spiky leaves, long reed-like clumps with a fluffy white flower on the tip – and cactus everywhere. Cattle fodder?
We’re back to the pink houses again, having moved inland from the sea, and solid bus shelters. Then we arrive in Tan Tan, to be greeted by two large white concrete camels – Milton Keynes’ concrete cows have nothing on this! Just after the camels, we get stopped for the first time by the cops. Very polite, asks us for our passports and fiche – fortunately John had prepared about 40 of these before leaving the UK, so we simply hand over a nice clean copy. He’s delighted, welcomes us to his town and reminds us about the “beeg festival” here tomorrow.
Festival?? A stop for coffee and a leg break – Thomas is travelling with us, and I’m sure he needs a break after several hours of driving, and we find out more from our waiter. Yes, big festival “le chevaux en le Chemoiuse” (horses and camels) he explains, starts tomorrow, “bee...eeeg festival” So we decide we have to stay over an extra day in TanTan Plage, and come back to see. Especially after an entourage of horses ridden by very smartly dressed Arabs in white robes and turbans, rifles on their hips, rides through town! This I have to see!
Off we set again, not really paying attention, and smiled at the next cop who pulled us up, ready to hand over the next fiche. No, this man was very serious. We had ignored a stop-sign, and what was worse, had forced a fancy Merc to hoot at us! “I didn’t see the stop sign,” John tried to explain first, and when that didn’t was, said “but it’s all in Arabic, I couldn’t read it.” He drew himself up to his full height. “M’sieur,” he replied in perfect English, “the signs are the same the world over: red and round.” Anyway, lots of sorrys and apologies didn’t cut it, and we got our first fine of the trip – hopefully the last, because he hit us for 700 dirhams! Granted that’s only about £65, but in a country where a huge bag of veggies costs only about 25 dirhams, it’s a lot of money. We drove on very much more cautiously. Thomas had stopped just ahead of us, waiting with baited breath, but they decided he had been a good boy and had not skipped the sign!
The campsite at Tan Tan Plage is a bit of a disappointment, predominantly camper vans again, rather bare and barren, but we select a spot facing the sea away from most of them, and Thomas follows us in. Turns out the van nearest to us is a Brit, and it’s not long before we’re all chatting away. I pulled out my journal, the pink traffic slip fell out, and he fell off his chair laughing! “You got caught by the tall cop at the roundabout? Every foreigner gets caught there. It’s the local cops favourite trap spot!! Well, at least we felt a little better knowing we weren’t the first – or probably the last!
Alan’s also on his own, recently converted from land rover and offroad stuff to van, but he’s a mine of information! Within an hour or so, we had GPS co-ordinates to most of W. Africa, stories of great places to go to off the beaten track, and interesting spots to visit. He also spent gave us an update on them – theygot to Gambia, unscathed but somewhat scarred – they also had a run in with our favourite border guard at Ceuta, who not only tore all their country decals off the side of their land rover but also gave them a strip-search of the whole vehicle! I guess we got off lucky after all.
Dinner of fish tajine followed by a fruit tajine, a bottle of red wine courtesy of Alan, great conversation and great company – a good night in all.
We joined Thomas and Alan, and drove in Thomas’ camper van back to Tan Tan to watch the “bee-eeg festival.” Got there about 11am, and where greeted by hundreds of Berber tents erected in a huge square in the middle of the desert scrub, the King’s pavilion at the far end.
On the hill opposite were perhaps 50 camels, mounted or in the process of being mounted by men in white or blue robes – magnificent sight! No-one was able to give us any kind of programme, everyone had a different idea of what was happening or not happening, but we wandered around the tents, taking it all in.
Most of the tents were still in the process of being fitted out – all erected, they still needed the carpets and cushions and small tables to make them homely: looked like we were too early. But the occupants of one tent called us in, an old crone beckoning to me to “come in, come in”. Seriously not sure what I was letting myself in for, I followed her into the tent – they are huge, probably 30-40 feet square, staked out with short poles on the outside, one single tall pole in the middle holding everything up so that you can stand. Lovely and cool – carpeted with beautiful obviously homemade rugs and carpets, they were artisans: lots of looms and spindles scattered around.
There were three old crones, and the rest were younger women, probably late twenties or so, and I was being offered dates split in half and stuffed with goat’s cheese. Delicious! And very exotic being taken from a beautifully hennaed hand. Bright, almost gaudy soft material made up their outfits, worn African style rather than jellebah style, wrapped around in various layers rather than a one-piece long gown. We had a great time – language was absolutely no barrier, as I asked and they explained, all in hand signals accompanied with peals of laughter!
Then Alan joined me in the tent – Thomas and John hovering around the edge still – and then the game was on! “Your husband?” was the question. “No, no,” the reply, pointing to John. “Where’s his wife?” “He doesn’t have one.” “Hmmm, what about me?” with a flirtatious flutter of the eyelashes. Much laughter, much hiding of their eyes behind their veils, brother stepped in, and it finished up with Alan being given Saghla’s telephone number and address – he’s married himself off I’m afraid!!
I took lots of photos, and with brother’s help, we exchanged emails so I could send some to them. What a wonderful time – I’m glad we came early, glad there weren’t hordes of people around: it was a very special fun time for us all. Although we did go back to their tent before we left to ensure that Alan got a divorce!!
Then the men on camels stormed into the parade ring – what a spectacle. And this is only the practice – by this time we’d discovered it all actually only starts tomorrow – today’s just practice. But for an hour or so, we watched these men parade, move, race their camels up and down the ring: talk about a photo moment! A mix of ages – they were oldies who’ve obviously been doing this for ever, young bucks trying their luck, and a little kid of 8 who’s riding for the first time – I found his age out by dint of holding up fingers: he caught on pretty quickly and laughed and shook his head until I got the right number!
Really sorry we won’t see the whole thing – it would be quite an experience, to say the least. But time urges us on, and we need to get down through Mauritania before we run out of visa time. Damn these rules and regs!!
Which reminds me – you have to continually remember you’re in a foreign country here. There was enormous police presence on the roads this morning – we were stopped 3 times, the last being the most worrisome, as the guy demanded to see our passports. Apart from Thomas, whose home we were travelling in, none of us had our passports with us! John eventually handed over his driver’s licence, which they took, walked off and called someone on a cell phone. A few minutes later, they walked back, said Thanks Mr Franklin, and waved us on. Guess it pays to have a record in Morocco – they must have him on the system from the ticket yesterday!!
Unfortunately, the beee-eeeg festival starts only tomorrow, so we headed off back to camp - John made a curry for the long drive tomorrow, and I did some more editing. Then a walk up into town to buy some veggies and fruit, and some new Moroccan stcikers. I asked the man if he had a Fifa sticker - "No," he says, "too expensive, I can't play with Fifa!" True, true - but what a sad comment on Fifa!
More campervans pulled in yesterday afternoon – it’s interesting seeing what people take on holiday with them! Never mind the satellite dishes and second generators: a French couple arrive with a trailer packed full of enough food to stock the local supermarket – the whole side of the trailer folded down to become a walk-in pantry. Not to mention the couple who unpacked the buggy out of their trailer – or the ones with a fold-up car!! As Thomas says quite forlornly, “I’ve only got a bicycle.”
An early start saw us out on the road in a crisp clear day, Thomas close on our heels in his camper van. 40ks or so out of town, we came across a huge Berber encampment, festooned with cops and security and pictures of the King – his encampment for the Tan Tan festival? Perhaps that accounts for the multitude of cops and black 4x4s at our campsite last night??
About 20kms after that, we cross the Oued ma Fatma – lovely big estuary, with high embankments on both sides and about seven campervans parked on the top – what a great place to rough camp!! Why didn’t we know about it?
A coffee break in Tarfaya – I’m becoming addicted to these cafe au lait except that this one was somewhat self-service – a small glass of hot milk accompanied by a sachet of Nescafe instead of the normal strong Arab coffee – bummer! Scruffy little town, but very workmanlike – sort of a Brits compared to Pretoria.
We’re travelling in close convoy: this is Western Sahara, and the rumours are still flying around here. No facts, because no journalists have been allowed in since the drama at the refugee camp. So we’ll be careful. Police checks start a few kms short of Layoune: very pleasant, very friendly – having learnt his lesson the other day, John now stops at the round red sign and does not move again until the policeman calls him forward irritably! We hand over our fiche at the first stop, wait the few minutes it takes to read and process it, add in the few other details this particular man wants, then roll across the road to a gas station to fill up. Thomas’ light is flashing yellow!
That done, we exit the gas station – and are stopped literally 50m down the road – we can see the other policemen not 100m away!!! However, smiles all round as we go through the whole process again – this one is quite young, quite flirtatious, so things take a little longer as he chats me up and gives John a bit of a hard time! In fact it takes so long the queue’s beginning to back up behind us – and eventually the big chief in aviator shades marches across the road and stands next to my door (that’s the problem with a wrong-hand drive car!!). Oh oh, I think, now we’re for the high jump. “So!” he barks as I cower back. “What special you have for me today?” Ne ver had it put quite that blatantly before. Anyway, John pulls out a pack of the special “give-away” ciggies we’ve bought, meaning to give him one or two – he reaches in and zaps the whole packet and is gone like a scone! Then we have to endure another two minutes of berating from flirter, who’s cheesed off because he says cigarettes are unhealthy!! Oi vey.
Layoune was very smart, lots of new buildings, lots of military – every other person was in uniform. Very quiet – everyone in hiding? Or just lunchtime?? We were watching for the campsite, because the refugee camp is supposed to be right there, but didn’t see a single sign – for anything – until after we’d left town! In fact if it wasn’t for Jeepers. We’d still be driving around looking for the road out.
Two more police stops on the way out – that makes four in as many kilometres – and then we’re out of town and back into dune country. Beautiful. We take a quick stop amongst the dunes for lunch and to let Thomas give Buddy a leg-stretch – he’s so good about travelling for hours, but even a dog needs a pee sometime!
There’s a huge amount of traffic on the road, moving fast on narrow roads, and inevitably someone comes to grief. We passed two bad accidents – both trucks, one still burning, the other upside down obviously recently. They drive like the clappers out here, piled sky-high, their loads usually double the height of the vehicle itself – and often precariously tied so the whole thing is slipping. I’m only surprised there’s not more carnage.
And something stinks in the state of Denmark – not sure if it’s the camel carcasses we keep seeing or the fish canneries that are along the sea-shore, but boy do they pong! We’ve been running along the sea for ages now, a dramatic shoreline – cliffs that just drop down to the sea with no slope to soften them. At one stage we must have been a good 100 foot above the sea, and there were several fishermen sitting perched on the edge of the cliff, long rods with line going out there somewhere – was that just to get away from the wife or do they really catch fish from 100ft up the cliff??
Another police check – I’ve put my computer away, as John gets very nervous about them seeing it and thinking I’m a journalist. At this rate we’re going to run out of the 35 fiche that John prepare before we even get to the Mauritanian border!!
Our sixth of the night occurs just as we enter Boujdour, our destination for the night. The big yellow Oasis overland truck is ahead of us at the check-point, and it takes them ages to clear the 25 or so people on the truck. Have to get ahead of them at the border!!
They spurt ahead, obviously heading for the road again so that they can bushcamp; we pull in to Sahara Line campsite, and park amongst some more German campervans. Part of me is tempted to say, let’s chase the yellow truck and rough camp, but the manager convinces us he’s got hot showers here – well, I’ve heard THAT one at almost every site we’ve been to in Morocco!! But he does also have free wifi – that sells it.
Once we’ve parked, I go to check – and you know what? The water’s hot!
I’m off to shower!!!
What a caterwauling from the mosque at 4.30am this morning – must have gone on for 35 minutes instead of the usual 3min call to prayer we’ve become accustomed to! Plus he must have had a rally or something on the go last night – yelling and shouting over the mosque loudspeakers till all hours of the night – an Islamic pentecostal meeting??
First road block just as we leave Boujdour, but very happy chappy, but the day starts with “no presents from the Eengleesh?” I offer him some Moroccon dates and get a frown and a wave to so ‘Go!’
Then we’re driving along the edge of the Atlantic – the road’s only 50m or so from the edge, and the edge simply drops sheer down into the pounding surf some 100 feet or so below – would be spectacular if we could see anything, but we’re in thick fog. Now THAT I didn’t expect! Thought we’d left it all behind in Maine!!
Not a drop of wind, so the fog hangs in fairly heavy patches well after 11am, but the desert changes constantly around us: it’s a long lonely stretch this, some 550kms from Boujdour last night to the Mauritanian border and Nouadibhou. But the countryside keeps us fascinated; one minute long rolling sand dunes, then flat scrubland with patches of blue along the road – verbena? Not a sign of life anywhere, nary a camel despite all the signs warning us to beware of them crossing the road.
The cliffs appear out of the fog, jagged white rock faces with vast chasms carved into the terrain by the sea: in the distance we can see the headlands sparkling white – no pollution here to dirty them up like Dover. Big shallow bowls, that look almost as if they might have been natural harbours at one stage, now silted up and returned to the desert.
Out of nowhere, a clump of new-built houses: not a soul around, nothing to show why the buildings are there suddenly, no reason for their existence. Someone with too much money and nothing to spend it on? Or a project gone wrong??
But then there’s a huge shed, about 100 or so shacks – and probably 50 or so little wooden fishing boats. We peel off across the desert to go explore – we’re extremely high above the sea here, sheer cliffs; how do they get the boats down to sea level?? Two obliging youngsters repairing their boat fill us in: down a gulley, through a series of rocks, over a river...no, actually that was the old way – now they have a road cut by tractor, and the tractor pulls them up and down!!
As we’re chatting to them, an official arrives, very officious. “What’s your job?” he demands. “No photos, no photos.” We laugh him off, tell him we’re retired, tourists etc etc, but he’s still not very happy with us, convinced we’re journalists (they really are fairly paranoid about this here – we’ve been asked several times what our jobs are!!), so we left.
We reach the fork to Dakhla – should we, shouldn’t we. We decide not to go down the Dakhla as it adds a couple of hours onto the trip, but as we’re driving along, I think we’ve made a mistake! Dakhla is on a 40km long peninsula that juts out into the Atlantic, parallel to the shore – and from across the bay, it looks absolutely stunning! Oh well, something has to be saved for next time I guess.
And then we cross the Tropic of Cancer – Kodak moment! 23° 27 North – obviously not a big issue in most people’s lives here as it’s not exactly a neon sign, but hey – it’s special!
We bump into a green overland truck, a Heinemag I think he said, young German couple also heading for the border – but they’ll beat it through to sleep at the border tonight. It’s 4pm, and we’re looking for a bush camp somewhere – it’s another 120kms to the border still, and we’ve already done 500or so! Enough’s enough. And Thomas hasn’t “wild-camped” in Morocco yet, so he has to have at least one experience!!
And so the search is on – several places rejected, then we find a nice spot, tucked behind some low dunes, obviously a fisherman’s spot because there are dozens of old plastic bottles and old ropes and stacks of general fishing junk lying around – but it’s way off the road, right on the beach – perfect. While John gets a cuppa going and Thomas takes Buddy for a walk (poor dog’s been caged up in the campervan for several long sessions today – he must have his legs in a complete knot by now!), I go on beach clean-up duty! Can’t do much, but it makes me feel a little better to look at a vista of the sea without too much plastic debris in front of it!
Dinner’s on me tonight, pasta (Thomas is vegan so that limits food choices somewhat) followed by fruit salad with pomegranates – boy, how exotic can you get? Thomas offers us his can of pepper spray (in case) and I think is quite surprised we don’t take it. “It’s okay,” he says, “I have Buddy!”
So, our last night in Morocco, inshallah as John would say. Tomorrow’s another day and another country. Wonder what that will bring?
Today's the big day – first of the “difficult” border crossings – not that anything can beat our entry into Morocco almost a month ago! Still we’re on the road early, to get ahead of the crowd – it was a quick 138km run to the Moroccan border, and the fun starts!
There’s a long queue there already, and all we can do is join the queue and wait. John and Thomas do the standing the in the queue – the deal is to put your passports and completed forms on the shelf outside the office, and wait for your name to be called. Strange system, but it seems to work, if slowly. Falls apart every now and then, as it did when the yellow overlander and its 26 passengers was suddenly taken out of the queue and seemed to “queue-jump” – big black African guy got very upset!
But our names are called, the passports stamped and returned – then it’s off to Douane – another long queue. I stayed in the vehicle, working on the computer and watching somewhat nervously as several men came over and commented on, stared at, traced the trip down our tattered and patched green map. Was it all going to explode again?? But no, they all drifted off again, John came out, with a very official looking gentleman who proceeded to look into all the drawers, ask questions about the tent, and then very quietly under cover of the back door, ask for a “special gift from England2. We offered him dates, he moaned: sweets, he held his teeth (but took them anyway), so John finally slipped him 50dirhams. He slapped the car. “Vamoose,” he said. We vamoosed.
Another 10m down the road, to another official, who wanted more of the same info. Gave him what he wanted, and moved on. 20m this time, then we were stopped by another man in uniform – in 50m we were stopped 4 times!! Each time we had to present our fiche, our passports, our car papers – then finally another uniformed man (this one with a rifle) waved us through under the arched gate. “Is this the road to Mauritania?” John joshed him. He just waved his rifle, so we took that as a yes. 2½ hours that little episode took us – but at least we got off lightly. Both the green and the yellow overlander have been hustled off to the shed for x-raying!
It takes another half-hour or so to negotiate no-man’s land – it was like a lunar scrapyard! The most god-awful stretch of road for 3.5kms, through dry dusty scruffy littered terrain, with battered and smashed cars lining the road – what’s the story?? Is someone trying to tell us there are mines here, or is this the local junk heap? We wind our way very carefully across the really nasty track, seeing with amazement that there are also fairly nice looking cars here – maybe it is a scrap yard – or they’re stolen cars abandoned here in no-man’s land?? No answer.
Then we’re at the Mauritanian border – here the form is different. We are kept out of the low walled enclosure until there is space in the parking area, then called in to the first little building, the gendarmerie. Takes another half hour or so to get there, during which time we are hustled for “assurance”, changing money, camel rides, guides to the Parc – it’s quite a relief to reach the enclosure, even though we’re a bit nervous: both cars in front of us have been strip-searched, everything out in the dust. Pierre, whose wife runs a bar in St Louis and says we must come visit, says it’s okay for us to accept the exchange rate gien to change dirhams to oougiyias – oogs for short thank goodness – so we make the exchange and zillions of oogs suddenly float into the vehicle!
It’s our turn to go up, so into the gendarmerie we trail. I must say that it’s John who actually does all the “trailing” while I stay in the vehicle unless called for! But 5 minutes later he’s out – and it’s on to the next building, the douane. Here they need the carnet de passage for the first time – oi vey, now we’re in hock to the bank if anything goes wrong and we can’t get Lavinia to South Africa!! But it all goes swimmingly, and within 5 minutes, he’s out, grinning. By this time he’s collected a “best new friend” Momo, who is leading him through all this. At a price of course, but who cares, it’s cheap at the price!!
Momo dashes him to the next building, explaining exactly which papers he needs here, grinning at me each time he passes me. Another few minutes (this was the Police – what’s the difference between the gendarmerie and the police??) and we’re done! Momo runs up to the chain across the low wall, bows flamboyantly, drops the chain and waves us through.
We’re in Mauritania!!
6670kms since leaving Sevenoaks, our third country of the trip. Assurances are obtained with Momo’s help, we wait for Thomas to clear, and we’re off - 5½ hours after arriving at the Moroccan side of the border!
The wind’s whipping up suddenly, and swirls across the road to Nuoaidhibhou, making it difficult to see the holes in the road! But we do see the famous ore train Michael Palin talks of, supposed to be 2-3kms long – being a Saturday I guess this is only a half-day train: I’ve seen longer ones of the run from Sishen to Saldahna Bay! However, it’s another Kodak moment - special.
This is definitely Mauritania – little one room block houses and scruffy shelters that look as if they could be in Guguletu, the town is black African, not Arab African. The clothing is somewhat the same, a sort-of Arab/Nigerian mix for the men, loose wrap-around cloth for the women – but the faces are all black and all negroid. It’s quite startling!
We pull into Chez Abba, the campsite recommended, and are not initially impressed. But at least it’s sheltered from the wind by a high wall, and cuts out the squalor of the town. Then we discover that they actually DO have hot showers – and their rating skyrockets!!
Dinner tonight is on the town – we take a quick walk out of the gates, jump over the slop and holes in the “pavement” and walk down the road to what looks like a really nice restaurant (Nuoaidhibou standards). Unfortunately others think so too, and it’s booked out for the night! So we fall back on second choice – the Chinese – how can you have Chinese food in Mauritania?? We get “found” by a tall elegant tout, who trots us down a couple of dark alleys with both Thomas and John getting more and more nervous, only to find the one he’s taking us to is closed for the night! So it’s back to the Chinese. And actually it’s great – except our “finder” keeps wandering into the restaurant, trying to sell us postcards, a trip to the desert, some jewellery – anything! Until he comes out with it and asks for a “cadeau” for finding us the restaurant we’d already found.
Arrived in Nuoakchott - much fun and games - tiny camp site no bigger than the normal SA back garden, and into it are squeezed the yellow overlander (24 people), the green overlander (2 people), Thomas & Buddy in the campervan and ourselves! Guess John can't pee off the top of the land rover tonight - he'd hit one of the tents on the ground in front of us!!
Was just too tired to write much earlier – too much driving and border crossing over the past few days!!
I think we’ve both realised that driving long distances every day is just not on – you don’t get a feel for the areas you’re travelling through, don’t get any kind of inter-action with the locals – and quite frankly, my butt gets sore after a while!!
So, two long days (interspersed of course with the Moroccan/Mauritanian border crossing) and it’s time to take a break. Wimps, aren’t we?
Anyway, a cold beer for John courtesy of the yellow overlander, a G&T for me courtesy of the bottle hidden behind several other cans and bags, a cool shower, some good conversation (in English!!!) with some of the overlanders, and I feel like a new woman. Thomas made some nice savoury rice, I added potatoes, carrots and peas, and fried up the last three pieces of chicken – meal fit for a king.
Crashing now – see you tomorrow!
Wonderful start to the day with piping hot fresh pain chocolate (a la African style with custard rather than chocolate, but still) from the patisserie over the road, after a somewhat disturbed night. We’d foolishly left our garbage packet hanging over the land rover’s mirror, and the local kittens found it – it crackled and phrissled all night – and we couldn’t bang anything to chase it away because there were little tents sleeping right below us everywhere! Quite a feat to find your way to the toilet in the middle of the night without standing on top of anyone!
Then the frustration started: John wanted to see if we could get the Burkino Faso visas here in case the embassy in Mali was closed by the time we get there (Christmas season), so we hiked off to the French Embassy – which the Rough Guide said did them. Blank looks and total incomprehension at first, then we got sent to the Societe Generale – who sent us to the next one – who phoned ahead and said “no, we don’t do them”, at least saving us another long dusty walk through the now seriously hot sun. Was it only a few weeks ago we were complaining of cold???
Okay, so that one sorted, will have to get them in Bamako Mali, as planned. John wanted the , the brown card insurance that should cover us for most of the next chunk of countries. If we thought it was incomprehension before, you should have seen their faces now! Non comprende was the easiest answer we got!! I gave up after the 5th assurance company we were sent off to – I was cooking alive in my long black jersey top – and we made our way back to the relative shade and sanity of our overfull campsite. A cold coke and another “pain chocolate” this one with lemon custard, and I was at least ready to begin a wash cycle – 2 pairs jeans, 2 shirts, 4 prs undies and a cotton top later, I was ready to drop again!!
Washing has become an art: I bought a new plastic basin in one of the local Moroccan holes in the wall, and this gets filled with water, some soap powder added, and the laundry squished in. Once soaked through, I then stand in the basin, and proceed to do the “Indian shuffle”, a sort of grape-stomping squelch which squeezes the water and soap-suds through the offending article, hopefully releasing the dirt! Judging by the colour of the water after a few seconds, I guess it works!
There is wifi here, but it’s one of those really frustrating affairs – you just get ready to send something and it crashes! Patience I keep telling myself, patience. Jawellnofine. Maybe I should just talk my hot little laptop in my hands and hike over to the “cybercaff” over the way – maybe later, when it’s cooler!
It’s a lay day for the overlanders too – some have gone shopping, some have gone eating, some have done washing, some just crashed. It must be quite tiring being in that great truck every day! Grant (the driver) gives us some bad news: their other truck has just gone through the Diamma border into Senegal, the same one we plan to do tomorrow, and his carnet de passage has been refused. Bureaucracy just being bureaucratic! He’s been given a 48hr temporary permit, and has to go to Dakar (170kms south) to get it extended. What a pain! We’d decided not to do Dakar, as it’s another big noisy town and I think at this stage we’d rather do a pirogue trip down the river and some exploring along the side of the Gambia. Well, will have to see – they should have more info by tonight and will let us know.
Then we went to the fish market - unbelievably, every afternoon the world grinds to a halt and gazillions of fish get brought in by the local fishermen in beautiful old wooden pirogues, and offloaded into the most battered broken down old bakkies you can ever imagine. It's the most vibrant, exciting, incredible scene - half of Nuoakchott must be down on the beach buying fish!!
We wandered around for hours, taking photographs when we could, ducking when they waved their hands at us, making friends with some people, getting chased by others - getting ripped off when we bought some fish - a stunning afternoon.
The photos will say more than I can possibly express, so I'll leave it to them!
Chaos, absolute bloody chaos!!! This is our 3rd African border crossing and quite frankly we're both ready to abandon the vehicle and fly out!!
Against our better judgement, we decided at the last minute to go to Rosso to cross into Senegal - the other border is at Diamma, supposedly an easier time, but the other overland truck had reported back this morning that they had only been given a 48hr transit laisezz paysage at Diamma, and being a weekend, by the time they managed to get an extension, their vehicle was impounded as being overdue!! The talk was that there was a chance of getting the carnet stamped at Rosso, so to Rosso we went.
Only 210kms or so, but the road got steadily worse until finally it was all holes with a scraping of tar somewhere at the sides. The donkey-cart track at the side through the sand was far better, and at times we decided to take that instead. It's a bit unnerving to be driving along slowly trying to negotiate holes that will smash the axle if you heed them faster than 20kmp, only to be met by an oncoming truck doing 40 swerving towards you to avoid the hole on his side - and to have another two vehicles of assorted size and vintage screaming along behind them too!!
We hit Rosso (a really dirty scruffy port town) at about 12.15, and the hassle started within metres of the famous blue gate (other reports say, once you're in the blue gates, you've had it!): 5-10 black locals inundated the car, everyone shouting and yelling, everyone pointing in different directions - absolute bedlam! We tried very hard to ignore it all, inching towards the blue gates, which are the entrance to the port and the ferry to Senegal - no bridge here, it's pirogue or ferry!! But they bacng on the side of the vehicle, tap on the windows, and the gates won't open. Eventually a cop in uniform stands up, walks over to us - real effort on his part -takes all our papers (passports, car papers, insurances, carnet de passage, John's drivers' licence) motions to one or three of them, opens the gates, and we all proceed through en masse.
Once inside, we are slowly (everything happens at half pace except the yelling and shouting) manouvred over to park at what is obviously the parking place to board the ferry. So far so good, I think, keeping my eyes glued to the cop with our life in his hands - those papers disappear and we're cooked!! Then he motions us out the car, signs us to lock everything and "come". All our hangers-on (somehow we've accumulated about six of them again), translate and yell at us to tell us what to do - John trying to sgake them off, me trying to push them away (personal space means nothing here!), and we're hustled up some stairs, to stand in front of some office doors - and the haggling begins.
We need: 2000 for this, 3000 for that, 6000 for something else, total 21 000 before anything can start - all in rapid-fire French. To slow everything down, John insistes on a written breakdown, and some big chap whose t-shirt says "My Name Is...." steps in - with a command of very broekn English he explains the "system" - we have to give our appointed rep 21 000 oogs (Mauritanian money) and they will go to all the various components necessary and get all the forms etc stamped and processed and then we just have to get on the ferry.
By this time we've met up with 2 other Frenchmen travelling back to Senegal who shrug their shoulders and seem to say that's the way it's done, so John shells out the 21 000 - and off they all go - now they have our money AND our life's papers!! And now it's 1pm, and all the cheifs are off on lunch and prayer break till 3pm!!!!
Have we been had?
We sit, they try to send us off out of the gates to have lunch, but we refuse, intent on keeping a watch on both the vehicle and our cop/designated rep. Equally, they won't let us out of their sight - every time I go to the car, at least one follows along while one stays with John. What's it?? In the meantime we also have to organise the "carte bruin", insurance for the ECOWAS countries - that's E160 and we've run out of available cash - John has to go into the safe in the back of Lavinia to get more out. But there's no way we can do that with them all watching, so I have to distract them, take them off a couple of metres to ask a whole string of idiotic tourist questions, to get them away from the vehicle so he can open up the safe. Oi vey!!
Of course the chiefs don't come back by 3pm; an entourage of military vehicles suddenly sweep in and do a tour of the grounds, then deposit one solitary minister - the ferry leaves with him aboard - alone. By the time it gets back, some 30 mins later, we've got one pice of the four pieces of paper required. Which of course is all part of the game - as soon as they see you getting stressed, they pile a bit more pressure on! By this time we;ve been joined by some slimy little character who greets us effusively apologising for not having been there to meet us "our friends phoned and told him we were coming" - ja ja, pull the other one charlie!! Finally, we have all 4 pieces of paper, and are parked on the ferry - together with at least four of our accompanying hustlers - Malik, our designated rep, has all our documents in his hot little hand, and won't release them saying he has to take them through on the other side.
It's all a big rip-off - on the other side, we're again led off into some hot and dirty backyard: I stay in the vehicle while the rest of them begin the hustle all over again. Now it's another 30 000 something or the others that are needed - after another hour, we are through the second set of blue gates, but now the fun's on! "Our" guys took all the money, then gave John 2500 back to go and get the carnet etc himself; they wouldn't go in. The big chief Senegalese told John these were total rogues, he shouldn't have paid them anything on the Senegalese side - so once we were through the gates, we had a big screaming match with the entoruage who were now demanding their commission. John told them they'd had it in the balance he'd already given - they tried to make out they had to pay 20 000 to have the gates opened!
We eventually drove off in a flurry of yells and shouts, having paid them the rest of our Mauritanian oogs and told them to get lost!!
Total On the Mauritanian side: 2000 communal tax, 2000 to the police, 2000 each to have the passports stamped, 2000 to have the carnet stamped, 6000 "embarkation fee"??, 5000 ferry fee. Probably only the last was valid.
On the Senegalese side 2000 each to have the passports stamped plus an additional 4000 for John's as he was the driver, 2500 for the laisser passer (we only got 48hrs so have to go to Dakar to get the carnet stamped but that's another story!) - and 20 000 to open the gate!!! Plus I don't know how many oogs thrown at the guys at the end!
Result - suggest travellers miss Senegal and go directly to Mali.
The 48hr thing is a real problem - the areas in Senegal really worth visiting are Lac Rose, St Louis and Coromance - and certainly the first two you now have to miss in order to scream through to Dakar to get your bloody carnet stamped - or else have the vehicle impounded!!
We left the border after 5pm, and it was well after 7.30 before we reached Zebrabar in St Louis - the road was atrocious, extremely dangerous at night, and really stressful.
We took a room at Zebrabar - no energy left to put a tent up. Have to decide on what to do next tomorrow.
Martin (owner of Zebrabar) arranged to meet us in St Louis to see if we could get an extension to our lasseir passer - he introduced us to Isobel, owner of a guest house in Gandiol nearby, and she very kindly led us through the process.
Again it was a case of knocking on one official's door after the other - to add to the farce, there's no electricity in St Louis today, so we were talking to each official by the light of her cell-phone torch!!
Ecah one passed us on to someone else, but after lots of waiting around for the chief to come back from some dorpie he'd gone to (he never arrived), some other official (who of course had been there and been watching us parade back and forth past his office all morning) eventually gave us an extension - we have until Monday to get to Dakar!!
Interestingly, he also phoned some other big chief and very politely inquired why his customs guys were not acting on the letter number ... from 9th November which stated that the carnets had to be stamped at the border now!!! So, interested persons, see if you can find the letter.
We're on our way back to Zebrabar, hoping to take a pirogue trip tomorrow up the Senegal River into the bird sanctuary - more on that another day. Unfortunately Zebrabar runs purely on solar power. so no weefee!!
Hi guys - I cannot find your email address, so need to respond this way. Please send pics to jennyjen@netactive.co.za that would be wonderful! Thank you
Wonderful relaxing day today - I think we deserve it!!!
Late breakfast with the ladies at the Zebrabar, some computer work, then a couple of hours piroque ride down the Senegal River - wide, lazy, tidal and full of birds. Not as rubbish-filled as some of the places we've seen en route, although there is still quite a lot of Africa's national flower (the plastic bag in all hues) around the shore.
The bird life is great - Garth of course will have a fit because I actually don't know a blue heron from a grey heron except that there are about three different kinds here - but lots of pelicans, herons, waders, little brown/grey/black jobbies, gazillions of gulls - quite a sight.
We shared the piroque with some of the Oasis overlanders, and the kid in front of me had a camera with a HUGE lens - and a continuous shutter - he got the most stunning shots of a heron catching an eel off the beach! Boy, would I like one of those instead of this little instamatic!!!
The rest of the day was spent just lazing around generally: Zebrabar is a fabulous place to do that! Beuatiful white sand beaches, lots of big shady trees, a very mellow atmosphere altogether. We had taken a lovely big bungalow when we first arrived - comes complete with four-poster style mosquito net, so you really feel pampered somehow - but were downgraded today to a smaller one because Martin, the German ownder who has been amazingly helpful, had not thought we'd get our extension and had already booked our bungalow out for the long weekend! Oh well, it's about time we returned to the camping life anyway - getting spoiled like this!
Martin was filling us in on some of the dramas of the border crossings - we thought we had it bad!! One group were given 24 hours and an armed escort to proceed directly to the Mali border! It's a real hit and miss situation - some people get 24 hours, some 48 hours - a German solo motorbike rider who came in from Mali got 15 days!! And had his carnet stamped, whereas all the rest of us have to syill go to Dakar to get this damn piece of paper stamped. Martin's throwing all his toys out the cot, as this is affecting his business very badly - he caters predominantly to people like ourselves who are travelling through Senegal by car - usually folks would stay for at least 2-3 nights: now they're either having to skip him altogether or else spend only one night then scream off to Dakar crack of dawn the next day.
Still, there could be worse places to relax!
Jamie's birthday - happy birthday my sweetheart! I've tried and tried to phone you, but cannot seem to raise you. Hope you have a wonderful day and a wonderful weekend camping in your new 4x4!
We're spending the day in St Louis today - vibrant olde French city, an island in the middle of the Senegal River. Of course, the buildings are now all a little tattered and torn and somewhat run down, but they have this aura of olde worlde splendour about them.
And the feel is of life and excitement: the taxis here are classics - vans of some indeterminate make, vividly painted and decorated, airy (no glass in windows), packed with equally vibrantly coloured women in all shades of vivacious African hue. There's no bus-stop stuff here - if you want to get out, you just bang on the floor or the roof or the side, the vehicle comes to a screeching halt, and out you jump. Of course you have to displace all the youths who are hanging on the back open (which is open) first - seems like it's a matter of honour to see who can hang out the furthest!
The trucks are something else - I have never in my life seen such battered old vehicles still on the road! The load beds are rusted to hell, the loads hanging out, the chassis drags on the road, hitting the holes and bumps in the road at every chance. Yet the engines sound sweet - I guess so long as they can keep them on the road, they will.
Wonderful way of thinking!
Another frustrating day in Senegal has almost ended – the sooner we shake the dust of this country off our heels, the better!
Started off with a delightful drive down the piste from Zebrabar through Rao to join the N” to Dakar – fabulous dirt road, far better maintained than the horrific road to St Louis – that winds through the loveliest villages and along the side of the Langue de Barbarie: absolutely fabulous.
We stop to buy bread in one village, and the shop-keeper doesn’t have enough change, so we get three hard-boiled eggs in exchange. A pull-off under the acacia trees, and that was a delicious roadside breakfast!
I’m intrigued as usual by the shops: how the hell the locals manage to have fresh baguettes every day in the middle of rural Africa, I have no idea! And the butcheries are a sight to see – I swore blind I would never eat meat that had been hanging amongst the flies in the trees; I’ve increased my boundaries to include meat that’s been hanging under a corrugated or plastic roof outside shack – oi vey! Shake the flies off to see what the flesh is underneath???
It’s interesting travelling through the villages: Senegal is 90% Muslim, but it’s very much more relaxed here. Seems the religion is a way of life rather than a proscribed rigid set of rules and regulations. Women’s dress is bright, gaudy, colourful – tight long skirts and fitting bodices are the order of the day, designed definitely to attract not to disguise – they have a lot more freedom than their Moroccan or Mauritanian counterparts. Even the men smile a lot more, and are far more approachable – don’t turn away when I address them.
There are a lot of mosques, and in fact we have several times seen “street” prayers – when the appointed time comes and the call to prayer goes out, all the men line up along the street to do their kneeling and standing – and many times there are women joining in – sure, they stand in their doorways or under a tree, not with the men, but at least they are seen to be praying here, something we never saw previously.
Then we join the main St Louis-Dakar N2 – tar, and a good road! 100kms or so of this, lots of trucks crabbing across the road (their chassis have been so badly damaged they now travel sideways rather than straight!!), lots of donkey carts, lots of yellow taxis and brightly coloured taxi brusses, so sometimes it’s a hassle overtaking, but it’s a good run.
Until we hit the outskirts of Thies – a fork in the road, a late sign to show the right fork to Dakar, and as we begin to cross the rusted railway line we’ve been running alongside for the past 100kms or so, two cops jump out of the grass at the side, blowing their whistles and waving frantically. Sighing, we pull to a halt, at which the big fat one stalks over to my window and demands my driver’s licence. John gives him his, he glares at us both, tells us he’s “going look”, comes back and does a double take as he realises actually I don’t have a steering wheel in front of me!!! Storms over to John, waves him out the vehicle and promptly begins to write out a fine for not stopping at a stop-sign. “What stop sign?” asks John. The fat cop points into the bushes and there underneath the grass is a sign so badly rusted it is invisible! “Where’s the line to stop at?” inquires John indignantly. The fat cop waves his arm vaguely in the direction of the lines. John argues, takes photographs, argues some more, but no dice: fat cop’s not budging. Writes out a ticket for 6000CFAs, keeps the drivers licence, and we have to drive 7km to Thies to go pay the fine, immediately!
By the time we get back to collect the licence, neither of us are happy. It’s hot, getting more humid by the minute, the traffic’s growing by leaps and bounds as we get closer to the outskirts of Dakar, the air smells revolting – not sure if it’s bad fish or just Dakar smog – we’re on edge watching for cops springing out of the bushes, Jeepers keeps telling us to “turn left, turn left” when we know that we really want to keep going right – then we realise the co-ords we put in were for the campsite at Lac Rose, not for the one in Dakar – all in all it’s a bit of a nightmarish trip!
We find Calao, as martin described, but unfortunately it’s bungalows only – at 45 000CFAs per night, so we bail, and trek around to Su Nu Gal, just around the corner. Initially all seems great – nice site, on the beach, friendly staff – 4000pp pn, and if we have a meal we don’t have to pay for camping. “Kitchen’s closed 7.30pm” says Babakar, the barman. “Yes, toilets, yes, douche (showers)”. We take it, order a late lunch, find a space to park (we’re the only ones here, so that’s not too hard!) and I go to have a douche.
Oi vey, the wheels begin to fall off. The douche is an outside used-for-beach type – no chance of a private shower here. Will have to wait until dark when people stop wandering through!! I complain to Babakar, who refers me to the owner who’s a big fat slob who says rudely “to be expected” and refuses to get off his sunbed!! I’m tempted to tell them to take their lunch and put it where the sun don’t shine, but John’s starving and I don’t feel like cooking!
So we take a walk out to the end of the breakwater to calm down, have lunch, then get the computers out to do some work.
Just settled into the lounge part of the restaurant when we were invaded by a bunch of Sefricans on their way back from Mauritania to SA, on a layover waiting for the early morning flight tomorrow. They saw the Soutpiel Safari, started chatting, and before we knew what had hit us, we had a party going! Sampie from Richards Bay, Robert from Uvongo, Mike from Boksburg, Hentie from Vryheid and Nicholas from Joburg all work in the mining industry, and are on 9/3 week rotation from the gold and copper mines in the north east of Mauritania – it was great fun swapping stories! Of course they didn’t have CFAs (neither did we because we’d been cleaned out by the cops and the meal!!), so John and Hentie legged it off to find an ATM – much to the staff’s horror, because they thought they were knocking off at 6pm!!
We politely reminded Babakar he’d told us 7.30, and he stayed on, passing beers over the counter to get rid of the dust. Takes a lot when you’ve been out in the desert for 9 weeks! Fat slob by this time had got himself off his sunbed and was directing operations for a front end loader – seems he adds a few more rocks each night to his breakwater in order to extend his reclaimed land - then sat in his bakkie hooting while Babakar tried unsuccessfully to roust everyone out of the bar! Fat chance!!
It was a fun end to the day. Interesting chatting with them – they work in some really exotic places, but cannot explore them because of all the tension and potential for kidnapping etc. As Hentie says, their companies can’t afford to pay the ransoms that would be demanded, so they’re just not allowed out. Sad – I think I’d rather do what we’re doing.
Planning a relaxing day on the beach today, gearing ourselves up for the "discussions" with customs etc to morrow!!
Have found a fabulous French patisserie, and might just eat ourselves silly on pain chocolat and other assorted French pastry delicacies - then mellow out under the pine trees next to the gigantic tortoise - and avoif Fat Slob, who's cushions were out waiting for him already when we left!
I had a shower after all this morning - before the night watchman opened the gates, John kept cavey while I did my dance through the cold drops i full view of the fortunately still sleeping world! Just in time, because as I pulled my jeans on, the staff arrived en masse.
Oi vey, the things we go through in order to have fun!
Still, by all reports it's freezing in the UK - more snow than ever before, everything including Heathrow closed! Emma says they can't even drive to buy a Christmas tree! Think the humidity we#re "suffering" with is better!!
It’s 7.30pm, we’re parked in the boondocks in a millet field (long dried and harvested!), about 50 metres off the main N1 road to the Mali border, the full moon has risen – and out of nowhere comes a call to prayer! Unbelievable!
It has been a day of contrasts – we left our friendly night watchman at Su-Nu-Gal at the crack of dawn this morning, and drove along the cornice de oest, through what is obviously THE elite part of Dakar – huge mansions, all with their own security forces, right on the beach front, everything very chic. Clean, spic and span – beautiful double lane highway all the way into town – where the REAL Dakar begins! Still, pretty smart in comparison to most places we’ve seen in Senegal so far – at least this looks like it has a semblance of order and westernisation!
We found the Port and Douanes without a problem, then had to wait until 8am for the ‘chef’ to arrive. Took me a few seconds to understand (hey Patricia, my French is not THAT good!!) that they were talking about the chief, not the main cook!! Anyway, we hung around in the passage we’d been directed to until 8.15, by which time I was getting slightly agitated. A query to the guy who’d been sitting in his office since we arrived 40 minutes ago, in fact had had several conversations with us, and we discovered we were in the wrong passage, outside the wrong ‘chef’s’ door!! Oi vey.
Finally found the right guy – and this was the big cheese. He sat behind a closed door, while two lackeys in the outer office rushed around stamping forms, filling in more forms, entering figures in a huge ledger, transferring those figures to another ledge on another desk – it was a very busy office. It had to be the right one!
So we handed in our carnet – it’s always really frightening seeing that document disappear – would cost us a lot of money if we didn’t get it back! Sort of like watching your passport vanish into some tout’s back pocket!! Assistant chef no.1, with creases in his uniform he could cut himself on, frowned, wrote, stamped, wrote some more, then put it onto a pile. Rattled something off in what might have been French, it was so fast I couldn’t tell. Assistant chef no.2 took pity on us poor souties, and explained nicely in broken English, “come back 9am.”
So we left (it was about 8.25) and decided to have a cuppa coffee at the Nescafe stand across the street. These are wonderful inventions – half a 44 gal oil drum, on wheels, with a gas burner in the drum to heat up water and a selection of coffee, milk, tea – you want it, he’ll make it! It’s an education to watch – no ordinary instant coffee in a cup, add boiling water – this is an art! With a flourish he pulls down the big plastic cup, deft twists of the wrists adds coffee grains, sugar, milk powder, water is poured in from the hotpot – then the show begins! Like a cocktail mixer of Las Vegas fame, the big cup gets poured into another cup, and back again, and back again, until there is a froth of note – then your coffee gets poured into a little espresso plastic cup and handed to you. And all this for 7pence!!! I had two, just for the fun of watching him!
Then we sat with the locals, shooting the breeze. The shoeshine boy comes past, clacking his tools of trade, gives me a big grin when I stick my flip-flops out – but the man next to me has the most beautifully polished black shoes you could imagine. I n fact, that’s the one thing that has struck me over and over again: so much of Africa liv
es in hovels, in grass huts, in shabby little shacks – yet every morning they turn out immaculately dressed! They make me feel dowdy and frumpy – dirty and dusty – while they are chic, smart, clean and sparkling! How do they do it??
Anyway, back to Douanes and our carnet – at 9am we return – it’s obviously too early, as the pile of no 1’s desk hasn’t moved. But while we sit there, umpteen others arrive, and no 1 is really really busy moving papers, writing in ledgers, stamping stuff, scribbling huge numbers on files. No 2 sits twiddling his thumbs. Until no 1’s phone rings – and he shouts “Le Chef” to no 2. Who leaps up, grabs the pile of papers on no 1’s desk and dives through the door marked “Chef du Bureau”. All goes quiet for a while. We wait.
Then no 2 comes out with said pile of papers and I think hallelujah – waves at us and says “come”. We come – down the stairs, along innumerable passages, to another “chef” – once again there’s much signing, tranferring to ledgers – then we’re told to go away and come back “1 hour”. Turns out big chief chef who needs to now stamp the carnet is busy in a meeting with Chef du Bureau, our friend who’s just signed the carnet upstairs!!!!!
We sit outside this chef’s office for the hour, watching as innumerable young and sexy secretaries?? Enter and leave this office. Finally we see the suit who was upstairs arrive, so we dive back in – sure enough, a few minutes wait and the most buxom/tight-skirted secretary has our carnet in her hand, has written something in a ledger, and, flashing her eyelashes at John, invites him “come!” He does, with me trailing behind like a spare part. Into another chef’s office, who barks “Passport, photocopy, carte grise....” I freak. NOW he wants copies???? Fortunately we have, so I rush out to the car (you see, I do have my uses) and suddenly we have a stamped carnet!!
We’re ready to go! Mali, here we come!
Takes two hours of traffic to get out of Dakar - not the nicest city in the world, then we’re on the N2 to Mbour. And the road disintegrates completely!! We thought the road to Rosso was bad – this is a thousand times worse! There’s no right or wrong side of the road; it’s wherever the holes are least. We see a young boy shovelling sand into a hole – actually I’m not sure if he’s shovelling it in to fill it or taking it out so he can con some cash – but it’s a nightmare for the next 60 something kms.
Then we get past the Saloum River, a huge flat wide river plain which I think has been causing most of the road problems, and we’re on a great road. Hold your breath – will it stay?? We go through forests of baobab trees – I’ve never seen anything like it! Lots of little villages, beautifully tree-lined with massive shade trees and inundated with goats and donkeys wandering across the highway – and eventually at about 5pm we find ourselves a harvested millet field, pull off and park.
This is home for tonight!
A reminder of disaster first thing in the morning when we come across a heavily laden truck that’s come off the road and turned upside down – driver’s in hospital, little guard is sitting in a pool of diesel with an open fire making tea!! Another accident waiting to happen.
Middle of the night we were woken by clip-clopping in our camp, but it was only some local horses come to investigate – sniffed around, ignored the old loaf of bread John had left out, and soon took off. The locals seem to uses horses more than donkeys here; small horses, but seemingly in good shape. Of course as I wrote this we came across a series of kids riding donkey carts – plus an obviously sick donkey being loaded onto a donkey cart to be taken off to the vet!!
The bush here is fascinating – huge baobabs in various stages of flux – some completely leafless as I’m used to in SA, some in full thick green leaf, most of them covered with hanging velvety pods – is this where cream of tartar comes? I think the Afrikaans word for the baobab is the kremetartboom?? And lots of shade trees suddenly – all beautifully bright new green leaves that look so fantastic against the drab brown/red dust. Outside Tamboucounda, we suddenly hit a veritable forest of flamboyants – tall and elegant and a mass of vivid red flowers against the bright blue sky. I made John stop to investigate, and each tree is covered with tiny little black sunbirds – as so often along this trip, how I wish I had one of the big fancy cameras with a huge lens!! My little digital does a sort of job, but is just not enough.
Unfortunately the downside of all this dramatic tree life is a plethora of carcasses along the road – cows, goats, donkeys killed presumably by speeding taxi brusses or trucks. Not much seen of damaged vehicles, but then again, it would be difficult to determine which of the vehicles was damaged by an impact and which was just generally derelict anyway! The carcasses are in various stages of decay – some bloated and fairly new – and smelly – some completely dessicated. John says that the locals wouldn’t eat the road-kill (despite their unbelievable poverty) because they are Muslim and the animals would not be kosher – the blood has to be ritually drained in order for them to be able to use it. Seems an awful waste to me!
Talking of meat, we have just finished the last of the supermarket stuff from our fridge – so now it’s local stock. I’m increasingly nervous about buying local – as you will see from the pictures, it’s not exactly 1st World standards of hygiene! And realise that my pics don’t show the full scene – I can’t get close enough to show all the flies!!
Fever trees suddenly – wow! But all little ones – have the big ones all been chopped down for firewood already? It’s stinking hot now, dry and dusty, although the road’s great. One of the better ones we’ve been on for days. Have actually got out of 3rd gear several times – once even up into 5th!! Through dozens of little villages, each one not more than a couple of clusters of huts and a line of stalls selling whatever they have available – hard-boiled eggs, cold water in plastic bags, what we think is some sort of juice in old beer bottles – to the taxis etc.
And then suddenly the road disintegrates – oh well, can’t have everything! Well, the one cop who stopped us today said it would – in immaculate English! Not as good though as the guy who stopped us in Tamboucounda – with a long sob story about being a refugee from Sierra Leone who was desperate to get to Dakar and his embassy to get relief aid – terribly sorry to do this to us, humble apologies etc etc. Boy these touts are good!
We’re lined now by some sort of euphorbia bush/tree crowned by brilliant pink blossoms – I remember seeing these in the Bahamas, but they were only small bushes there.
The border post at Kidira opens at 7am, so we find ourselves a campsite along the river to spend the night. Wonderful; a couple of farmers in the fields behind us who come over just to say hi, otherwise nothing except the birds and goats. And snake tracks, but no sign of the snakes!! It’s interesting: we crossed the Senegal River at Rosso (horror crossing) to come in to Senegal, sat alongside it in St Louis for several days, and will now on the completely other side of the country, will exit Senegal into Mali by crossing it again! Quite a river.
That’s tomorrow’s story.
Some experiences can only be written about afterwards.
Our 5th border crossing of the trip – only another 12 or so to go!!! Not sure I’m going to make it – the experience is definitely aging. All started off well today – we’d reconnoitred yesterday, thought we had the whole thing sussed before going off to have a fabulous camp in peace and quiet along the Senegal River – nothing except birds and goats (and snake trails!) to disturb our night.
Jawellnofine. We got to the border post just before 7am, when it was due to open. John had to wake the “night-watchman” at the police post before the bridge to open the gates – only to be told we had to go to the Police Commissariat somewhere back in the village. At this time of the morning it’s still dark, dears! The only things around are scrounging goats, so there was no-one to ask – and of course no signs. Actually I don’t think we’ve seen a sign to anywhere since leaving Morocco!! Finally found it, got the passports stamped, back to the police post – turns out the night-watchman has now become the policeman, but he’s in the middle of prayers, then we have to wait for him to lace up his shoes, then he looks at the passports, smiles and opens the gate!! Oi vey!
Over the bridge, and we’re in Mali – amazing to think that we crossed this same river at the Mauritania/Senegal border, sat alongside it almost at the Atlantic in St Louis, and now we’re crossing it some 700kms further up towards its source in another country across Africa!
Mali’s an almost instant shock. Not for no reason is this the poorest country in Africa – it’s immediately evident in the squalor and scruff and poverty of the homes – suddenly we’re into little villages of mud huts with grassy roofs – not even thatch, because there’s no real thatching grass here. It’s been sad watching the disintegration on the route down – from wealth and facilities in Morocco, not quite so good but still comfortable in Mauritania, dilapidation and olde grandeur in Senegal – but it would seem there’s not much of any note left in Mali from the colonial days. Or any new money coming it, it seems.
Our route takes us down to Kayes (pronounced Ky), where we thought we’d get internet. No way jose! Did manage to fill up with diesel, and filled the water tanks with some pretty dubious stuff from a roadside well – thank God for iodine!
Then it was a choice of the tar road to Bamako (some 800kms), the “piste” road through a Gorge and past some waterfalls, and a big new dirt road which would get us to the same point as the piste but 60kms further on. I was all for the piste road, thinking it was only 40kms instead of 100kms, but we tried it, and decided it was a little “too piste” when the land rover could barely fit in the width of the road! So we did the longer road, on the assumption that it was a big new road (dirt sure, but good dirt) and therefore would be faster.
Well, we all make mistakes sometimes!! For the first 40kms or so all was great – in fact I began to think we should have taken the other one because this was just plain boring! Then we hit a huge – and I mean HUGE – cement factory complex – obviously the reason for the new road. Because it all went downhill fast from there! The road onwards was obviously still under construction – in fact, we even saw a couple of Chinese supervisors – but what started off as an occasional deviation turned into a deviation every 150m or so – then there were deviations off the deviations – and eventually you were just guessing where the road was!
It was thick sand 0 axle deep – in fact several times I simply just ploughed into the middle mannetjie and had to reverse out in order to get going again (yes, I WAS driving at the time – in fact, we’ve started sharing driving more now, as it’s just too hot and tiring to do it all alone).
Then we got to the end of the manufactured part – the rest was just vaguely cleared land! But it was going along in the sort of right direction according to Jeepers – she’d long since given up trying to direct us, but was just telling us we were going “South” – nice to know! At one stage we had a bunch of kids running after us, not this time asking for sweets but telling us we had to go the other side of the tree and down THAT donkey track not THIS one! What can you do – donkey track it was!!
Three very long hours later we suddenly arrived in a village – they sort of pop up out of absolutely nowhere with no warning out here! God only knew where we were, we certainly didn’t – but suddenly there was a road for about 100m, and at the end of the road, a huge river and a ferry to cross it!! Well, well, last thing we expected at this stage. So with no further ado, without asking where we were or even where we were going, we hopped on, thinking we’d be take n across to the other bank. No way – in the middle of the river, said ferry captain, who was most impressed with our picture of Al Shaheen by the way – did a smart turn to port and landed us on an island in the middle!! Then followed a long and complicated tired story of how “just 6 kms” up the road we would find a bridge, and this would take us over the other river (we were in the V of the Bakoye and the Bafing Rivers, at the point where they joined to become the Senegal!!) to the town of Mahine, where they said was where we wanted to go.
I was sure we wanted to go to Bafoulabe, just across the river, but who am I to argue with all these officious men?? So off we went; first road right, he said – that took us into someone’s back garden of mielies, so we tried 2nd right. Another 6-10kms of goat tracks mixed with donkey trails, and we were running alongside a railway line – now we had to climb up the embankment, onlt the line, and cross the river on the railway track, one set of wheels in the middle of the railway track, the other on the outside. Was there a train coming? No-one seemed to know. But seeing hundreds of pedestrians and carts happily doing their thing, we chanced it.
Hallelujah – successfully on the other side, exhausted, hot, ratty, not happy chappies at all, we opted out of trying to find a campsite in the midst of downtown Mahine, and took a room in Loisir “Hotel” – hot as hades, airless, but it had a shower – total bliss – and we ran a big fan all night and slept like babies. Or at least I did – John got up at about midnight, dying of thirst, and had to go make a cuppa tea. That was when we realised that the rooms were probably rented by the hour or so – but who cared at that stage??
A slow start this morning, because we thought we didn’t have too bad a run ahead of us. Should never under-estimate Africa or its roads!! Distance means nothing – everything needs to measured in terms of hours spent!!
We bumped into two Frenchmen at breakfast, teachers who had left Cote D’Ivoire on holiday just days before everything fell apart – now they have no idea of when/if they’ll be able to get back, and all their life’s goods are stuck back in their apartments! Makes you realise how lucky you are, doesn’t it.
Also made me take a quick look at exactly where Cote D’Ivoire/ivory Coast is in relation to where we are – and I was a bit shocked to discover it’s the next country down to Mali, and Bamako where we’re heading is not that far from the border!! Oops! Still, not going there, so hopefully will stay out of trouble.
Then it was out on the road again – of course we DID have to go baclk across the same railway bridge, then head off in the opposite direction. Still two railway crossings in as many days is quite fun! Once again we had a choice, of what the map showed as a red road (supposedly good dirt) and a white road (who knows what). John had heard from Andy (Oasis Overland) that the latter was a good road – and we got our wires crossed and heard “tar from the dam” whereas it was nothing of the sort!
Still, it wasn’t anything like as bad as yesterday, until the end – and that’s taught us another good if hard lesson. NEVER, NEVER travel in Africa after dark!!!
We slogged away all day, through Manantali – an enormous Eskom hydro-electric project that was very interesting), then down to meet the tar (big broad genuine tar road!!) at Tabouga. We hit Tabouga just after 4.30 – and that’s when we should have made the call and stopped. But no, we were only 200something kms out of Bamako, our deadline for the next few days, it was a brilliant road, there was very little traffic, so we decided to push on through.
And actually everything was fine – it was a bit fraught at times, coming up on an unlit donkey cart at 80kms an hour (yes, we were in 5th gear!!), and there were lots of sleeping policemen (I mean the kind that are tarred lumps in the road, not the traditional African gent in uniform!) which could rip the bottom out of a vehicle at speed, but all in all, it wasn’t bad.
We hit Bamako just before 8pm – aiming for the Sleeping Camel campsite. No address, we didn’t even know which part of Bamako or suburb it was in – just had GPS co-ords. Which we slavishly followed through the centre of Bamako.
I have to say something about Malian drivers here. I would say the ration of scooters/buzz-bikes/mopeds to cars must be in the region of 20 to 1 – as John said, it’s like being constantly in a swarm of bees! And they are all over the road – bad enough to watch for and avoid during the day, at night it’s a nightmare of concentration. But we did really well; fought our way through the hustle and hassle of the outskirts for about 20kms, and had only 2.4kms to go to the Sleeping Camel and a cold beer.
When this moped cut inside us, and a furious black face blowing a whistle flapped his hands frantically to tell us to pull over. We both groaned. Now what?
We stopped, and the face was in the window – spitting and hissing and shouting and yelling at John, demanding his passport, his driver’s licence, anything official. In the heat of the moment, exhausted, in a totally strange environment and with no idea where we were, this guy managed to con 7500CFAs off us – the mistakes made from our side were in handing over the driver’s licence, and in not shouting back at him as loudly as he was shouting at us! It was an obvious scam – there was no receipt, no ticket written out, total refusal to accompany us to the police station – but that’s in retrospect. At the time, it was just plain frightening!!
Anyway, 20 minutes later we were in the Sleeping Camel, having a cold beer with the Oasis crowd who had arrived yesterday – and listening to Grant’s story of being arrested and put in jail in the Cameroons because they couldn’t produce their passports – which they couldn’t produce because they were in the Ghanian Embassy getting visas!!! Overnight “stay” – very frightening – they were eventually released when the Canadian and British consulates got involved!
These guys have you by the short and curlies – they explode in “righteous” anger, yell at you in fast dialect French, won’t listen to anything you say – and of course work on the assumption that you don’t know what the hang’s going on and that you have visions of disastrous African jail scenes rushing through your brain!
Sad, really sad. On the one hand you can almost understand why it happens – the police here work and live in the most appalling conditions, and paid absolutely nothing – so of course they revert to scams using their so-called authority to get money. It’s the whole story of Africa really – I have found myself quite disturbed and disillusioned about Africa as we’ve come further South – the poverty here is unbelievable. Breadline is not even the name of the game – in the rural villages, the existence is survival only – hence the begging and the constant hassling, not just looking for gifts, but a serious source of food! At the Senegal/Mali border bridge, every vehicle (and there are dozens of big trucks that traverse these borders daily) is mobbed by a horde of young boys of between 6-8 years old, each with a bucket or bowl or old tin can, in which he collects whatever is given – almost like the Buddhist’s begging bowls. Sad, sad, sad – what’s their future?
Quick trip into Bamako this morning to process out Burkino Faso visas - my gosh, if the country is anything like the Embassy, I'm looking forward to it! Fabulous building, great staff - the visas were back in our hands within 3 hours! And we had a chat with His Excellency - who wlecomed us most effusievly! Delightful after all the drama we've had so far!
The Oasis guys all went out in various groups, to the market, the museum, just shopping etc. Brian got himself arrested in the market, when two women complained he'd been taking photos of them - despite the fact that he hadn't been! By the time the policeman (who was not in uniform and had a very dodgy looking "police" indentification card) had finished his yelling and shouting bit, the four folks involved were at the police station, trying to make themselves understood in lingua franca French (I'm beginning to believe it's a special language only the police speak!!). Fortunately several locals had taken Brian's part, and followed them, including a guy who claimed to be a lawyer. So after some more wrangling on the lawyer's part, the "case was dismissed" with no further ado.
Lesson two - always travel with lots of people!
Had a good clean-up of Lavinia today - must have taken thirty kilos of dust out!! There was dust on the dust - and my third shower in two days I'm still getting sand out of my hair.
Christmas Eve tonight - doesn't feel like Christmas at all, but it should be fun all the same. We're joining up with the Oasis guys for Christmas dinner tomorrow - they've bought the goat, someone just has to slaughter it still.
I'm not looking: my sentiment's with the goat.
And a very Merry and Blessed Christmas to all - may your day be filled with fun and laughter, and the blessings of family and friends!
We'll be sharing Christmas goat (roasted) with the folks from Oasis Overland - a different kinf od dinner!! Probably about 40 degrees today, so commiserations to all those suffering in the cold and snow - we're thinking of you!
Started off with John taking the back wheel off in order to remove and replace the diesel vent hose – fortunately Brian off the Oasis truck is a really strong Alaskan fisherman, so with his hauling on the hose, it wasn’t as major a job as we’d thought initially.
Called the kids – it’s always a mixed blessing phoning home for Christmas – part of me wants to be there with them all, so it’s always bittersweet. But thank goodness for modern technology – I remember the first Christmas John and I were together, it was a case of finding a broken down call-box on Ile de Saints and bawling my eyes out!!
Then it was “Secret Santa” time – we have joined in with the Oasis mob, and everyone has bought a small gift (nothing over E5) which is thrown into the pot – names into a hat, the first person chooses and opens a gift, takes the next name out of the hat, then all comers after that can either “steal” an opened gift or take a new one – it’s a riot!!
Some of the gifts were really nice, some were really funny (plastic train set with George Bush in a tank who chases Obama on a little cart), some were just silly (a set of serviette holders?? ) The most effective was a “slab” of beers – 24 local beers – needless to say, that changed hands at least 15 times! John claimed a huge water pistol, which he claims to be going to use on the next traffic cop who wants to give him a ticket!! I got a really grotty fluffy wig – no-one wanted to swop that one out!!
They’ve just put the goat on – I’m going to attempt to eat him, although Andy has just shown me a photo of him yesterday, walking around – bad move!! But at least he’s not been hanging in a tree for a few days!
So Christmas dinner 2010 is barbecue goat, roast pumpkin, roast cabbage, salad – with 5 small Waitrose Christmas puddings to share between 26 of us (we brought 2 from UK). And lots of beer for the beer-drinkers – John and I are both on coke, as we both still have dickey tummies. One of the joys of travelling through Africa, despite the fact that we both drink only bottled water or boiled water that we carry ourselves – with iodine in it to purify it.
More later!! Or tomorrow – depends on how late the night goes!
Gets quite scary at times - I know we geared ourselves up for potential trouble coming down Africa, but it's one thing thinking about it and another having it hit you in the face regularly!
Last night Falcon, one of the Oasis overlanders, and two Chinese girls who are also staying here at the Sleeping Camel were arrested for not carrying ID, man-handled quite badly, thrown in the back of a van and driven to some dark dingy hovel where they were held and given the third degree for an hour or so before being able to buy their way out. What made it even more scary was that they were only about a kilometre away from the campsite!
And then the news this morning is that there have been more bomb-blasts in Nigeria! Have to check the news.
Other than that, we're mellowing out here today - need to speak to Matt about doing the trip into the Dogon area, up to Tomboctou for the music festival then back down the Niger River - sounds good to me to let someone else worry about things for a while!!
Many thanks to all those who have written with info and advice re Nigeria and/or Cote D'Ivoire - sometimes it's very difficult to get news on the road, although right now we're in a site that gets us Sky News - when the guys remember to turn it on!!
Our decisions at this stage remain unchanged: no to Cote D'Ivoire, stay as far away from Jos in Nigeria as possible. If we can, we're going to get the visas we were planning to get in Abuja, Nigeria hopefully in Burkina Faso or somewhere before Nigeria, and cut down our time in that benighted country as much as possible. We hadn't originally planned to spend a lot of time there anyway, so it's not a major hassle.
Braved the mopeds, motor scooters, touts and dodgy police today to go buy groceries - have nbeen slowly eating our way through our stocks over the past few weeks. Amazing what you can get in the little stalls on the roadside! So, we're full-up once again with toilet rolls, pasta, long-life milk, bottled water (an essential!) and cokes. Taxi back to the campsite - in a broken-down yellow cab a la New York - except there was no suspension whatsoever, the seat covers needed seat covers, and the boot/trunk opened and closed by untwisting a piece of wire stuck through the bored-out locks!!! Still, it costs peanuts, so I guess we got a monkey!
Tomorrow we'll set out early, fill up with fridge stuff, then head for the hills. We've had to have the fridge switched off for the past few days as the vehicle's been standing over Christmas jollifications, but we stored a small stack of stuff in Sleeping Camel's deep freeze. Back to the "real" life tomorrow!
The plan is to make our way slowly from here (Bamako) to Segou, Mopti, back to Bandiagara by the 1st Jan to meet up with Matt and a small tour group to do a 3 day hike through the Dogon area. Then we'll travel in convoy with them up to Tombouctou and explore up there for a couple of days before hitting the trail down to Burkina Faso.
I'm really looking forward to the Dogon - these were phenomenol people - claim to be descended from the star Sirius, knew an enormous amount about the stars and planets (the the earth revolves around the sun for example and that Saturn has 4 rings!!) way back in the early 7-800AD. Take a look at http://www.unmuseum.org/siriusb.htm They built incredible edifices out of mud, lived in dwellings carved out of cliffs - well, will fill you in on all the details as we go along. Or after probably, because I doubt there is email in the villages now!
Just when you get a swollen head about being the great adventurer, someone crosses your path who cuts you down to size completely. A little blue Suzuki van has just arrived in camp, driven by a diminutive little Japanese lady, who left Japan in June 2010 and has just driven 28 000kms across Russia, braved the 'stans, through Europe and into Morocco, down the same route we have just taken - on her own!!!! Now she's busy sorting her things out, deciding what to send back to Japan and what to keep, because she's not sure if she's just going to keep on going or if she'll just give her car away to some lucky soul.
My mind is blown completely.
I have to confess to being quite amazed at the number of white women who travel around Africa, either in pairs or singly. More so here in black Africa - it was fairly rare in the more Arab states, that's for sure. But here, it's becoming increasingly common. They all land up looking the same: long starggly hair tied back into some sort of scarf/doek, tattered t-shirts worn loose over long loose cotton skirts - they all have an entourage of black musicians or artists hanging around them, and all seem to be enjoying life to the fullest! Gap year?? No, more like gap decade! If it was the 70s, they'd be the flower power people!
Now I know why it's called the Sleeping Camel - you arrive here and it just becomes increasingly difficult to leave! It's so nice and safe and secure here behind the compound walls - great cafe, new people to chat with each day, pool to hit when it gets too hot - why venture out into the big bad world where the police are blowing whistles and thugs are shooting and revolutions are happening???
But the best is - there are real toilets, with real toilet paper - invaluable when you have another attack of the runs!! I think this is the third in 10 days - hopefully it's short this time.
We decided last night to stay an extra day and get our Ghanian visa here - will cost an extra 10 000CFAs, but at least it means we won't have to sit in Ougadougou for 2 days. However, umpteen phone-callsa after breakfast have had no reply - and Bill (co-owner here) now tells us he thinks today might be a Malian holiday - maybe 2nd or 3rd Boxing Day or something??? So, we'll leave tomorrow anyway, have sort of blown the day today.
John's off to walk the town - minimum money in his fancy little African coloured money pouch hanging around his neck under his shirt: it's taken ages to get him to admit that having his wallet in his back pocket is NOT a good idea!!! I'm tucked into a couch in a corner of the outside lounge here, plugged into a power source, cracking through some editing.
Tomorrow, Dogon territory!
How nice to finally shake off the noise and dust and grime of Bamako – it was a great break, a good time to catch our breath, rethink and refocus after 9500kms and 8 weeks non-stop travelling, but I have to confess to not having put a foot further than half a kilometre out of Sleeping Camel the entire time we were there! Partly due to the police whistles and presence, partly because it was so hot, and partly because I found myself really disenchanted with Africa by the time I got here. Needed to refocus!
100kms or so out of Bamako, and the villages have changed quite a lot from the desperate poverty of those between the Senegal border and here. These are neater, the houses better built, everything generally more well-kempt. There is more proper farming: big cleared fields of harvested corn, lots more cattle, big plantations of trees – not sure if they’re mango or avocado – just a feel of more care taken. The main road through is still just as scruffy, littered with plastic bags and discarded rubbish, but the areas around the houses are swept clean – all the rubbish is outside the walls of each compound. There must be something about a common area – nobody looks after it.
Suddenly the baobab trees are pollarded: are they harvesting them? And for what? As I ask the question, we drive through a village with huge velvet baobab fruit tied in bundles, for sale on the roadside. So, is this cream of tartar, or am I talking tripe??? I’m so intrigued with this thought, that I almost miss the next sight – a woven conical basket high up in the tree – a fishing trap?? Surely not! But several trees have them, and we decide to stop for lunch under a tree to investigate. Lo and behold – the mystery’s solved. They are beehives! The tree is festooned with them, woven from reeds, with a solid round base tied to a frame with several small holes in it for the bees to move in and out, and the ground is littered with discarded used ones, empty waxy honeycombs.
Amazing trees these baobabs – seems they’re used for just about everything here – even the bark is stripped off and used to make rope apparently.
It’s a fairly comfortable run into Segou, a lovely green town on the banks of the Niger River, once a French administrative centre and full of decaying and decayed old French colonial buildings set in the most luscious overgrown gardens. We catch up with the yellow Oasis overlander, here to collect those of their party who did the trip up the river – we’ll lose them now, because they go off to Burkina Faso while we go on up to Tombouctou.
We finally find accommodation in Campement Delta, a sprawling renovated old place that was also home to the Centre d’Accueil – not that the welcome/information centre part of it seems to work any more! One thing I have not been able to do anywhere in Mali is get brochures or information from anyone!!!
Anyway, here we meet up with Peter (the Dutchman) and Naoka (the diminutive Japanes lady who’s driven from Tokyo), and we land up taking a walk through Segou, a ride in a pirogue down the river in the early evening and dinner at the Italian restaurant Esplanade, on the river. Delightful – a good evening.
We took a room in the Campement – because the cost of camping was almost the same price as the room but mainly because the showers and toilets allotted to the campers were unbelievably filthy – to be seen to be believed!! Even the manager did a double-take when he showed them to us – not that he did anything about it though! But I already have a really sore throat and a very slight temperature, so the last thing I felt like was catching some dread disease from even being in the same room!!
reakfast in the garden – the room comes with one breakfast – just as well I don’t do breakfast, so all John had to pay for was an extra coffee!
Once again a really interesting drive – and a really good road most of the way! We did have one serious hole in the road which we saw too late and sent the boxes in the back hitting the roof (and broke a bus’ axle – he was sitting very dejectedly on the side of the road in pieces!). We drove out the other side of Segou, the more commercial side, and I find it quite amazing – dozens and dozens of half-built or partly constructed buildings standing empty while the locals live in hovels – what is it?
I’ve developed a theory – that we, the colonialists, are to blame. Oh crikey, you say, here she goes again, blaming the whites! But hear me out.
We (the white colonialists) brought into a stable well-working African society our western styles and standards of building and architecture, and imposed this, creating these wonderful French /Portuguese/English mansions in black Africa. Beautifully built of brick, plastered and painted, with indoor plumbing and electricity etc. (eventually). The serious problem is that this is not African style. So when the colonialists leave, as they do, the blacks move in – but nothing is replastered when it cracks, repainted when it gets scruffy, fixed when it breaks. So what’s left? A crumbling edifice to olde worlde grandeur, where the indoor plumbing has given up or blocked or stopped working, and the locals now living in this wonderful mansion now wash outside at the garden tap again!!! If we saw it once it Segou, we saw it 7 times.
And extrapolate that out – that rubbish that litters the villages and Africa so badly – what is it? Plastic bags and plastic containers with holes and flip-flops which no longer either flip nor flop – and all the rest of the junk stuff we have brought in to a society that, in their rural state, throw nothing away that does not degrade back to nature! Bowls being sold on the roadside today were made of huge melon shells - what more can I say?
We’ve been driving along the Niger swamp/flood plains all day, and I was just redaing up about the Niger River. Incredible – it starts in the highlands on the border of Sierra Leone/Guinea, about 200kms from the Atlantic – then takes a hike backwards into the heartland of Africa up to Timbouctou in Mali before doing a large curve down through Benin and Togo to finish off, 4100kms later, emptying into the Atlantic at Port Harcourt, Nigeria! And I thought they said water always found the shortest way!
The water’s very close to the surface here – huge trees all along this area, large ponds every now and then, full of waterlilies and with fishermen moving slowly through the shallow water! That I did not expect to see: where on earth do the fish go when the water dries up??
Then we turn off the Mopti road towards Djenne, our destination for tonight. A 2000CFA “community tax” hits us as we turn off the main road (and this is after paying 3 different lots of toll on the main road!!) but it’s a good road and a good cause (I think?) Then we’re at the river again – this is not the Niger, but a tributary of, but we have to use a ferry to get across to Djenne. We are absolutely invaded by touts trying to sell us guiding services, necklaces, water bottle covers, fake antique masks – anything!! Finally manage to get rid of them, and onto the ferry – a quick trip down the sand and a bumpy jump off the beach onto the platform – the ferry’s had to be poled through the shallows to get here – how will it cope with the land rover weight?? Then we play a waiting game until it’s full. A whole lot of motor scooters, then eventually when no other vehicle arrives, they allow the horse carts to load – horses last. So now we have Lavinia, 3 horse carts, 7 motor scooters, 3 horses, 4 goats and a huge assortment of kids, women, men and hangers-on!! Once again the polers pole us out through the shallows, the captain starts the engine – and off we go, drifting across the river with no steerage that I can ascertain! But you know what, we make it safely to the other side – splash off through the mud and take off for Djenne.
It’s been a long hot day, camping is really iffy here, so once again we take a room – at 8 000CFAs and dirty toilets to camp and 10 000CFAs and own toilet in hotel, the choice is not hard!
We’ll do the tourist thing tomorrow – Abdullahay will be our guide for 2-3 hours – delightful smile, apparently an official guide, seems to know his stuff. We’ll see tomorrow.
This is a 100% Moslem town, so no beer here – John’s sneaked one in from the land rover fridge and is getting strange looks!!!
My brain is pickled - so much information in such a short time!! Overload experience. So let me try and distill some of it for you - what I can remember anyway.
Djenne – Unesco World Heritage site since 1988, it has the most amazing mud architecture. Due to a family of expert masons, the traditional houses have stood the test of time despite regular rain damage and floods in season from the Bani River. There are basically two styles; the Sudanese or Tukalor, characterised by a rounded canopy over the front door and narrow apertures to the sides of the door – built, according to our guide Abdullahay, to prevent the invading horsemen from entering and taking the family as slaves! The other very distinctive style has a series of facades depicting the father, mother and appropriately designated children in the towers – so the ruling powers always knew exactly how many children were available in any one home for service!
The Grande Mosquee is stunning – the largest mud building in the world, apparently, it towers above the city, smooth facade broken only by the wooden scaffolding which serves both as decoration and has a practical purpose when the villagers need to replaster the walls annually. That’s a big festival – for one day of every year, just before the rains come, the entire village turns out: women carry buckets of water from the river, men smear the walls with mud to restore its smooth exterior – a huge celebration. We were very lucky to be able to go into the Mosquee; some time recently a French photographer got everyone’s knickers in a knot by doing a rather racy fashion shoot in the Mosquee, and it’s been closed to non-Muslims ever since. However, it’s under restoration at the moment, and for a fee, we were allowed in – for a mud building, it is stunning. Actually, for any building it is stunning!
Despite the wonderful mosque and the amazing architecture, I found myself leaving Djenne somewhat disturbed: fetid grey water and sewage runs through the streets – children, like children all over the world, sail their little boats of sticks and leaves down the slimy turgid water which all runs straight out into the river – where the women was their cooking utensils and clothes etc. The children are filthy – grey-faced from the grey mud/dust, snotty-nosed: they look well-fed, so that’s not a problem, but the standard of hygiene is to be seen to be believed.
Even inside the houses: the smell of sewage is overwhelming – perhaps because we’d started early in the morning and the “night-pots” were still all standing the in rooms or on the rooftops – but generally it is a disease trap waiting to happen. Interestingly, the point was made that this has happened only since the government brought running water into the town squares: that previously all washing etc was done in the river, and there were no drains in the village, but with running water available from the village pumps, more and more women are simply throwing their waste water down the drains.
So, while part of me was really excited about seeing the ancient village – it dates from 300BC – the other part of me was really unhappy about the “modern” degradation!
Out of Djenne, we gave a lift to two young people across the ferry and to the main road – they were to catch a bus back to Bamako (600kms or more), then through Senegal and back to Guinea-Bissua where she works for an NGO dealing with water usage. Talking about this, she said she had been amazed how advance Mali is in comparison to G-B, which apparently has no running water and electricity only for a few hours daily even in the big cities! There are times when I think Africa really is a big mess!
Then on to Sevare, where after some backwards-and forwardsing, we camped in the front yard of Mac’s Refuge. Mac’s a delightful American ex-missionary (do missionaries even become ex???) who was born in the Dogon country, and has lived and worked here most of his life and now runs this lovely casual B&B. We’d needed to cook the chicken bought in Bamako, but were allowed to camp here only if we had dinner, so we landed up currying the chicken, storing it, and arranging to have dinner with Mac and his guests.
Sounds like an idea to me!!
And a wonderful, exciting, enriching, special 2011 to you all.
A pancake breakfast at Mac's Refuge this morning set us up for the day - great to chat with this man who has so much knowledge and soul-feeling for the Dogon people.
A slow drive to Bandiagara, the start of our venture into Dogon country, alongside thousands of head of cattle returning form their winter pastures up north. The villages along here are suddenly stone, as we venture into what they call the Bandiagara fallaise, apparently a large escarpment. The wind is blowing strongly, and everything is covered in a fine dust - the horison's obscured, and your throat closes immediately you get out of the car. Not going to be fun walking!!
We we are to meet Matt and his crowd from Bamako tomorrow for a 3-day hike into various Dogon villages. We’ll be sleeping on the rooftops, eating with the locals, walking/hiking all day, so will not have laptops etc with us, so don’t feel worried if you don’t hear from either of us for a couple of days!! Doubt if there’s wifi (weefee as they call it here) up in the cliff dwellings!
Then it’ll be on to Tombouctou – wore cause to worry there if we seem to disappear!! Most locals seem to feel there’s no hassle at all, most officials and travel & insurance companies say it’s a no-no. So who do you trust? Go with the local flow is my feel – plus which, we can’t get to within a couple 100kms of Tombouctou and not go there!!! That would be like not having a BigMac at McDonald’s!
We will be camping out of town slightly tonight, coming in early tomorrow.
Talk to you all soon!
Just back after 3 days hiking in Dogon territory - incredible, fantastic - too many adjectives!!
Also absolutely exhausted, need to do some serious clothes washing and restocking before leaving for Tombouctou early tomorrow morning, so details will have to follow later!
Hopefully make contact from Tombouctou.
An early start after a fretful night: I was cold, my hips were sore, my throat was full of dust and we both coughed all night! Still, the road to Sevare was beautiful this early in the morning: we bumped into Matt & co in town, and agreed to meet in Douentza.
Of course we didn’t, because they were further behind than expected and we pushed on to Bambara Mouende – the road changed from tar to good dirt, and within minutes we were in a group of 4x4s, dust everywhere. They stop for a Kodak moment, and we pass – time for pics later, let them eat our dust. For the next 20-30kms, two of them try assiduously to pass, taking off to the sand pistes at the side but never quite making it. Finally they fall back behind our dust and just put up with it!
Just before Bambara Mounde they manage to squeeze enough oomph to get past – then stop for lunch about 5kms further on so we pass them again! Seemed a bit pointless. I take over the driving, and am bowling along quite merrily at 65-70kmph when I suddenly realise I have no brakes! Thinking it was just a temporary hitch on the sand, I try again – nothing!! “Sweetheart, we have no brakes,” I say. “What?” “No brakes.” I pull over, demonstrate, then pull off the road under a shade tree so John can check. Unfortunately a thorn tree – but then there are no others here right now!
A quick look under the vehicle tells us we have brake fluid pumping out all over the rear passenger wheel – further investigation shows the brake fluid pipe has fractured. Makes life somewhat interesting. The tools come out, a mat’s put down to stay off the thorns, and John spends the next hour or so taking the pipe off, checking out what’s happened, and managing to make a temporary plus from another screw and nut – that’ll at least get us to Tombouctou, we hope. Slowly!
Interestingly enough, dozens of 4x4s flash past us – not one even slows down enough to wave a queried ‘are you okay?’ as they fly past spewing dust all over us. Not that we need them – John is incredibly competent, but it would be nice to have someone show some concern!
So it’s off again – I’m a little concerned that Matt hasn’t caught up with us yet, and John doesn’t know where we’re going to meet him or camp for the night – the only info we have is that I overheard Matt tell Assigue that it was about 30kms before the ferry. John seems to think that this is not right though, as he knows Assigue’s 4x4 was due to cross the river before tonight. So, difference of opinion; we travel on to the ferry, hoping they’ll catch up.
The area’s great – miles and miles of absolutely nothing – Tombouctou really is in the middle of nowhere! Desert scrub, white sand, occasional huge herds of cattle apparently en route from/to new grazing grounds. The road is not that good any more: very badly corrugated, so we take off onto the ‘pistes’ that are created at the sides of the road as often as we can. Suddenly there are a couple of big bushes in the middle of the road – local form of ‘deviation’ sign, and we take off onto a newly graded road as the existing one has disappeared into the river!
The Niger River is huge here – shallow I’d think, but blue blue against the bright sky, beautiful looking, broken up by pale green clumps of reeds every now and then. The red sand road narrows dramatically, until it’s just a thin ribbon of red through the blue and green – that stops abruptly in a line of maybe 50 vehicles and a very small ferry!!
It’s hot, it’s sticky, tempers are flaring because the ferry has stood for the past few hours waiting for some government official to arrive and cross!! We stand around, sussing out the scene, then suddenly some semi-official (or officious) guy waves us forward, shouting and yelling at us to “move, move!” Taking him at his word, we moved – up towards the front of the queue – which almost caused World War III – a Dutch woman leapt in front of Lavinia yelling and shouting, another couple stood in the road to block the way forcing our ‘guide’ to manoeuvre us around them with great skill, a local driver in a 4x4 of tourists pushed his bull-bars in between us and another Taureg sitting calmly watching the whole thing – it was suddenly extremely noisy bedlam!! By the time we realised what was going on, we had another 10 or so vehicles jammed behind us, three lanes of traffic on a one lane track, vehicles turning around so they could reverse onto the ferry, people shouting and swearing, women shrieking, kids yelling for their last chance to sell something of beg a ‘cadeau’ – it was a nightmare.
In the midst of all this, the mobile rang – an answer from Matt to say they’d stopped at the Taureg camp some 30kms back before the ferry!!! So now it’s a choice – turn around in the midst of this melee – we’re now about 3 vehicles from the front and our turbaned guide is yelling at us again, making rude signs because we’re not listening – so do we go over on the ferry now and make for Tombouctou with no idea of anywhere to stay, anywhere to go – or do we go back the 30kms and meet up with Matt & co?? We choose the latter – feels like a bad idea at the time, because it’s really stressful turning, we hit a skedonk bakkie behind us whose taped-on front light promptly falls off –the tape’s split and now everyone’s yelling at us to “payee, payee” because they say we smashed his light!!!
But we finally get it all sorted out – the original “claim” was for 50 euros, but after a bit more stern-faced stonewalling, John waves 20 000CHGAs – the notes are gobbled up like strawberry shortcakes, and we’re on our way out of here!
Tenere emcampement, which we’d seen when we passed earlier, just before we broke down, is fantastic, an enclosed garden owned by a wonderful Taureg guy, Abdullah. We get a warm welcome, and a cold drink and cold shower go a long way to washing down the tensions of the afternoon. Add to this a fabulous meshwe (whole lamb roasted in the sand, stuffed with couscous), and an evening’s entertainment put on by Abdullah’s extended family, and I am really pleased we came back.
It’s really sad. Abdullah is closing the camp, because they are not getting the tourists anymore – what with the UK and USA and European embargoes and warnings against the area, people are just not coming here.
Anyway, they put on a great show for us – a beautiful young woman (his wife?) lead us all in singing and dancing some Taureg traditional dances, then Abdullah insisted it became a “cultural exchange” – Bob and Eric from Alaska did a mandolin and guitar set which had the kids shrieking behind their hands – politely of course, but shrieking all the same. Then their men got into it, and a sword appeared, flashing around – the guy handed the sword to Matt and took the scabbard and tried to start a mock fight – Matt bowed out smartly, nervous even of the scabbard!! Back to our group, and a rousing group rendition of La Bamba got everyone up on their feet!!
All in all, a really great evening, wonderful to be able to mix with the locals like this. I just wish less people would listen to all the posturising and dramatising of the political powers-that-be, and get down to the nitty-gritty of reality.
Mali is a wonderful place, the Malians are wonderful people, friendly, gentle, intelligent, a delight to be with. I’d come back, anytime.
Timbuktu, Tombouctou – who’d have ever believed it??? This has never been on my serious wish list really, but has always been one of those places in the world I wanted to visit. To actually be here is phenomenal.
An early start this morning after another cold night – boy am I regretting letting that down duvet go off with the Oasis Overlanders!! The desert gets really cold in the early hours of the morning. But a hot cup of coffee around last night’s rekindled fire got me going again, and in two-two’s we were packed up and rolling, off to the ferry ahead of Matt & co who will probably scream past us – we are driving slowly because of the brake situation still.
We take the off-piste road’s today – far easier to ride on thick sand than across the enormous corrugations that shake the living daylights out of everything possible – and in two-two’s we’re back at the ferry.
What a difference to yesterday! We’re 3rd in line, and within minutes Matt and co rollup behind us, then another couple of cars. The ferry arrives as we wait, several cars and a bus are off-loaded with a big bang and scrape, then it’s our turn. Everyone turns around, and the ferryman insists we do too – reverse up the ramp, quite tricky with a moving ramp-bed!!
It’s a great ferry-ride across the Niger River: probably 50 minutes, slowly drifting/steaming across this huge flat bed of water. It’s a delight – and even better is the road off, towards the town. A long raised causeway of tar bounded by lines of eucalyptus trees and squat canvas/skin Taureg huts. Absolutely surreal – not what I expected at all.
But I guess that’s part of Tombouctou’s mystery? Inaccessible, an end-of-the-earth allure, not what you expected. Stories of the fabulously wealthy terminus of camel caravans linking West Africa and the Mediterranean since medieval times, attracted westereners for generations. Between 1588 and 1853, at least 43 Europeans tried to reach the fabled city – only 4 made it, and only 3 arrived home! By the time they finally managed to get there, the riches were long long gone. And by the time it had been ‘discovered’ it had also become synonymous with the disappointment of Africa!
We travelled through a fairly ordinary town, nothing much different to what we’ve seen so far, then slowly make our way towards what is obviously the older part of town. Lots of ‘biblioteques’, museums, mosques, old buildings made of bricks similar to what we saw in the Djenne area. And then Camping de la Paix – we’re greeted by a blue turbaned Bouj who rushes us in off the street, shows us the accommodation and facilities, makes us feel at home immediately. We decide to stay for the night, get hold of Halis, the guide/helper Abdullah has referred us to, and make plans from here.
Within minutes Neil, the owner has come to greet us, and when told of the brakes problem, has his overalls on and is under the vehicle with John. Twenty minutes later a mechanic arrives – twenty minutes after that, the offending broken piece is out of the vehicle and off with the mechanic. An hour later a completely refurbished pipe is back, and together with oodles of brake fluid, we have working brakes again! They need to be bled, but that’s not imperative. But isn’t it amazing, that in a backyard place like Tombouctou, amidst all the scruff and dirt of a third world society, a mechanical job like this can be sorted out in a few minutes flat!!! Mind you, as several people reminded us, it’s a common sight to see huge vehicles on the roadside, complete engines or crankshafts of the sand with piles of tools scattered all around, being fixed. This is not a throw-away society.
Matt & co arrived, had lunch and showers, then took off for the desert and the Festival. We’ve arranged for Ali to bring us a guide tomorrow to do the sights of Tombouctou, and hopefully he’s going to be able to get us tickets for tonight – not the 150 euros that they’re asking, but something more reasonable. Would be sad to be here, and not actually get to the annual Festival of the Desert!!
Big news when Matt arrives is that someone has bombed the French Embassy in Bamako – serious attack or just someone who was p...d off at not getting a visa??? He’s very worried though at what this will do to his business.
Anyway, the laundry is in for a wash, we're fed and watered, the land rover's got brakes again - we're good to go! So at about 5pm we take off for the dunes - it's literally a case of follow the tracks, as there are dozens of vehicles and hundreds of people wandering out into the desert to the Annual Essakane Festival - the most remote music festival in the world, they bill it as. Although this year, due to all the security and terrorist hassles it has been moved closer to town, so it's not quite so remote.
What a scene when we finally arrive (on foot by the way, following in the steps of the ancient caravanserais that used to trudge this way laden with salkt and desperate for water after a 30-something day hike down from the desert upo north!! We find ourselves an appropriate dune, and perch to watch the scene. The horison is jam-packed with camels and riders, an incredible silhoutte against the slowly setting sun. Someone is playing a mean guitar up on one dune, sort of 2nd or 3rd stage, I'd say, and crowds are slowly moving that way. Then a drummer starts on another stage, and the crowd rushes off there - you have to be good to retain their interest!
In the middle of all the melee (did I tell you they were still setting up the main stage and the mixing desk etc in the middle of a dune valley??) the camels move down at a fast trot - actually, one of our new best best friends tells us (it's very very difficult not to acquire these by the handful throughout the day!), they are dromedary, not camels - one hump not two. Or was it the other way round?? Anyway, these Tauregs storm down the dunes and through the valley, wheel around the 3rd stage at the top, then storm back again. Poor sound man trying to keep sand out of his equipment in the middle of it all!! Theye make several passes and abrupt stops - it's all very histrionic and spectacular and I have to say if they were coming at me over the brow of a sand dune waving rifle and swords as they do - in earnest - I would be very nervous!
The sun sinks below the dune, and the brand new sliver of moon hangs like a jewel on a silver thread high in the sky. Wow - how I wish I were an artist!! Then a group of Tauregs in full regalia walk onto the main stage, and the fun starts. Not quite my style of music, I have to say - very formalised movements and dance style, very shrieky wailing sound, but the crowd loved it, and that's the most important thing.
John had gone walk-about and came back with some brochettes - charred lamb on skewers - they were delicious, if sandy. But they do say that's the spice of Tombouctou, so we had to have it.
The music went on until probably 3am - us oldies bailed just after midnight, but the crowd just grew and grew and apparently partied until all hours. By this time it was freezing cold up there on the dunes - the desert gets cold very quickly, and we had succumbed and bought ourselves a fabulous Taureg blanket - isn't it interesing how the only things we have bought en route have been things to keep ourselves warm - is it a sign of age??? But we'd manage to stave off the incessant guys selling necklaces, bracelets, canvas bags, cold beers, nuts, Dogon hats, t-shirts saying Timbuktu or bust, etc etc - we eventually managed to develop a repartee with some of them because they came past so often!
The scene was incredible - the Taureg men in full regalia in all the most stunning peacock shades of blue, indigo, purple, green, gold and white, and the women in vividly brilliant patterned soft material - I couldn't stop looking. And of course the men all had their ceremonial swords on - well, I hope they were ceremonial. OI have to admit at one stage thinking; oi vey, if they all turned en masse, we'd be tourist jelly!!!
We didn't see any major security - a few police around, but nothing to shout about. t about 10pm an entourage of about 30 land cruisers arrived - the bigwigs had come to the concert, but even then it was very casual. The President of Mali's supposed to be coming tomorrow - presumably they'll tighten things up then.
In terms of security, I have to say I have not felt at all threatened up here - in fact have felt safer and more comfortable than in Bamako! So boo to all those countries and their embassy staff saying it's so dangerous - the locals are desperate for tourism, are going out of their way to encourage and develop it, and there really does not seem to be a security risk here in Tombouctou.
Maybe further north, out in the desert, yes. But here or in Dogon Country - no chance.
They don't call it the mysterious city for nothing! Tombouctou is amazing. Ancient - home to fabled wealth and riches from the salt caravans, unseen by the western world until the late 1880s, inaccessible - yet the reliquary of the most astounding ancient manuscripts and libraries of the world.
We took a walk around the town with Babou this morning - one of the reasons for coming here for me was to see some of this, especially the library that our ex-president Mbeki had supported. We did, it made me proud to be South African!
Then it was back across the ferry, and a short run back to Tenere encampement and dinner with Abdou and his family. Wonderful man - the money he makes from the encampement he plows back into building a school, a small hospital/clinic and building a well for the village. We should all be so industrious with next to nothing!
Long hot drive back to Togona campsite - Burkina Faso tomorrow!!
Of course, having just said all was well in Mali, the news breaks that 4 men have been snatched from Niamey in Niger by Al Quaeida of Maghreb, brought to N. Mali and executed yesterday. Horrors. Will this ever stop? Seemed to have been timed to co-incide with the President of Mali's appearance at the Assakana Festival where he proclaimed to the world that Mali was safe. Really bad news.
This is the 6th country on our list - this was the easiest border crossing by far - although it did stretch over some 50kms or so!!! From the exit stamp on our carnet from Mali - another 12kms to some gendarmerie lounging in his armchair in the shade who wanted originals not duplicates and then sent John back for his driving licence (just to have a look, not actually to DO anything!), then another 1km to the police post who stamped our passports with an 'exit' from Mali - then another 22kms across no-man's land until we hit the customs post in Burkina Faso then another 8kms until we hit their police post and got our passports stamped again. So who lives in all this in-between area???
The road out of Bandiagara started off fantastically - huge new tar road that Jeepers didn't know. Unfortunately it wasn't long before this disintegrated into the one she did - dirt, pot-holed to an unbelievable extent. In fact, everyone pulled off the main road and used the donkey cart track - when that became too bad, we all used the goat track!! Road signs were very simple: a hole in the road was marked with a bunch of sticks thrust into it (who renews these signs??), an upcoming problem was marked with a fer branches draped artistically across the road or a few rocks marking the potential problem. Very effective.
It was extremely windy today, dusty as hell and very dry - the fine powder dust is so static that it cloings to everything. Even my glasses have a constant film, making driving quite hazardous even without the holes in the road! Both John anad I have been coughing frantically each night, sputting out great gobs of brown dust - sorry for the personal details there! But if you're thinking of making the trip, bring along plenty of wet-wipes - they're a life-saver.
I think Mali ran out of money towards the B-F border, hence the bad road. But on the Burkina side, things improved dramatically, and after Ouaihagouya, we had a brilliant huge big tar road all the way to Ouagadougou! (prnounced by the way, Wagga-doo-doo and the former was Wee-goo-ya). Coolest name for a capital ever!
By the time qe hit Wagga, we'd both had enough! The OK Inn, which is the perennial overlanders' spot, apparently does not allow people like us to sleep in the car park amongst the trash bins and scrounging dogs anymore, so it's a case of B&B or bust. We did a spin-the-penny thing, and chose one near the Ghanaian Embassy where we need to get visas tomorrow, and here we are, esconced in the most delightful Le Karite Bleu, near the university. Hot showers, red wine and steak for dinner. I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven!
No news on the situation with the hostages up in N. Mali - the TV in our room isn't working! And everyone else here has gone out for the night - apparently it's a big night scene here. We'll be crashing early, oldies that we are!
Tried to get some laundry done this morning, but it all takes at least 3 days, including the hotel service!! So, scrub it ourselves I'm afraid - although looking at most of it, it's going to take a week to get the dirt out anyway!!
Took the passports in to the Ghana Embassy this morning; very efficient, will have them back tomorrow at 11am. Although they in sisted on knowing our address in Ghana - couldn't understand that we didn't have one as we would be touring, but were quite happy when I remembered that we might be going to the Mole National Park - so that's our official Ghanaian address!!
John's taken Lavinia off for an internal clean today - chucked everything inot the back in order to clean the front, then perhaps we can sort out the back afterwards. It is foul filthy! Driving through town this morning, there is a low haze covering everything - not sure whether it's pollution or dust or a combination of both, but it's as thick as fog in places. Dreadful - chokes my throat up instantly.
I'm staying at Le Karite Bleu, trying to do some editing in between being accosted by the resident crane, who's very friendly. There's also a pet kid goat, who takes great delight in frolicking around your heels - all very distracting!
As we drove along, we were stopped by another 4x4 and a young guy leapt out, wanting to take a photograph - rolling with laughter at the Soutpiel Safari bit - as you can imagine, he's also a South African! Here on a 3-year contract to start up a gold mine, he says the S.African ex-pat community here has grown to 16 - wow!!! Meet them all over the place: Dakar, Tiboraghen, now Ouagadougou.
I was just thinking of the ups and downs of the trip: ups galaore - the new countries, new people, new cultures, new food. Downs? The dust, lack of facilities, the constant hassling by touts. Crappy bathrooms, cold showers, really grotty toilets which are the bane of my life! The bush is preferable most times.
What would I recommend for first-timers? Always carry a good stock of bottled water, bring some sucking sweets as they help cut the dust in your throat - a goodly supply of tissues and wet-wipes - don't bring heavy clothes like jeans etc as they are a pain to wash! Light trousers, t-shirts; I've found light cotton longish sleeved ones very useful, both from a modesty point of view (the locals do not like your shoulders uncovered) and also as a sun-screen: you can get really burnt either sitting in the vehicle or walking around.
Don't expect internet access regulalrly - it's sometimes available, sometimes good, sometimes not. Banking by internet can be a problem, as I found - took me an hour to make one payment the other day because the link kept dropping out! And be very very aware of banking internet scams when you're travelling like this - as soon as you log on, the messages start coming in about upgrading or updating your information etc - don't open ANYTHING on a so-called banking system.
In terms of cash, carry small change all the time - big notes are just about impossible to get change for. Especially when you're buying veggies or stuff in the market etc - the stall-holders just don't have it, and it's a constant hassle trying to find change. The ATMs again sometimes work, sometimes don't - sometimes have cash, sometimes don't - so plan ahead. Like fuel stops, don't wait until you've almost run out before refilling!!! Chances are there might not be a gas station or an ATM in the town/village you're aiming for.
Otherwise - enjoy! The people we've met are wonderful; we've made some great friends with some tremendous locals, like Abdou in Tiboraghen and Adam in Bandiagara. Go with the flow, don't expect anything to happen fast (even dinner here last night took an hour to arrive, by which time John was chewing the table legs!!). Treat things with a smile and a joke - if you can - and a little French goes a long way!
Breakfast under the trees again, then to the Ghanaian Embassy to collect our visas and take off – only to discover the Ambassador didn’t come to work yesterday so nothing’s been signed! “He’ll be in in about an hour,” the rather officious lady tells us. So we have to kill time, and eventually find Zako’s cafe to have a cup of coffee. A delightfully friendly waiter insists on seating us next to another woman 0 also English, he tells us, so of course we start a conversation and find out she’s touring around on a bicycle updating the Bradt’s Guide to Burkina Faso. Amazing things people do!!
We finally get the visas – the lady makes John fill in her ledger, because she’s busy!! But we have them, and it’s off again – into the most almighty traffic jam out of Ouagadougou – took us almost an hour to get out of town and it’s really not a big town! And no sooner did we have a clear road than we hit deviations – then deviations on the deviations – then the road just disintegrated into one of the usual African dirt roads built around potholes! So much for the “tar road to Accra” we were told about! Bang goes the beautifully cleaned vehicle too.
Interesting sights along the road through – a dried out dam with just swampy water, full of probably 50 piglets, having a wonderful time! Vultures lolloping along the roadside next to the bus stop – have they learnt to scavenge from passengers?? Shorter, scrawnier than our Cape vultures, they seem half-starved!
The road chops and changes, patches of tar for maybe 3 kms, then another 10 or so of dirt and deviation – we have a laughing altercation with a ‘peage’ guy who insists on charging us a toll for using the deviation!! And then another few kilometres further on, meet up with a truck full of ground cassava whose trailer has jack-knifed and over-turned – and the locals have a string across the road to exact a “toll” from everyone who passes so they can buy the cassava bags to clear the truck!! Ingenious – at least they’re not just stealing them!
I’m surprised there are not more accidentsa – these vehicles are, like most we’ve seen, seriously overloaded! And badly secured most of them, so the loads shift sideways, causing the entire truck to list badly to the side!! We pass a bus with a cow tied down on the roof – how the hell did they get that up there?? And another with about 20 motorbikes laid flat – several with chickens tied feet first hanging down the side of the vehicle – they surely must peg out before they get to wherever they’re going??
And it’s not just the trucks – motorbikes pass us with a bar across the handlebars and probably 20 chickens hanging head down into the dust off the bar! Bicycles have little wooden baskets at the back, sort of lobster-pot style, and they’ll manage to get two goats into one basket!!
The dust here is unremitting: the harmattan is in full swing, so the visibility to the horizon is only about 200m, and the road is fine powder most of the time which only adds to the haze. We’re both coughing and spluttering constantly – the dust gets everywhere, into your eyes, your ears, your nose – I wipe my face with a wet-wipe and leave a brown watermark around my neck!! And of course land rovers were never made to be dust-proof – it swirls in through the cracks in the between the door-frames and just covers everything with this layer. And every time you stop for something, you get enveloped in your own dust-cloud!!! Where’s the jungle – I’m really looking forward to some lush green foliage and mud!!
By 4pm we’re doing our usual “where are we sleeping tonight” bit, and eventually pull off the side of the road, tuck in behind a large anthill and several tree/bushes and set up camp. Just far enough off the road that we don’t get covered by passing vehicle dust, and far enough off that we can use a light without attracting all the local kids and hangers-on! The ground is uneven, as we’ve landed up in a clearing which has previously been cultivated, but it’s fine. Curry on bread for dinner – pre-cooked by John about a week ago, it’s been sitting in the fridge for just such a night, when we’re too tired and dirty to think about anything else!
Crossed the Greenwich Meridien today!! As well as the Ghana border, so that was two events to check off. The border control at Burkina Faso wants to know, very seriously, where we’re going. “Johannesburg,” replies John. “Today?” he asks startled!!!
This was an intriguing border crossing – it went on for ever. First was Burkina Faso Customs, and we stop amidst zillions of parked trucks and as many money changers who of course latch on to you immediately. I’m okay – I just keep waving them off in John’s direction – “he’s got the money,” I say, so they leave me alone except to chat. John reckons we should get 330CFAs to 1CIDA, and there’s much backwards and forwards yelling and shouting and eye-rolling before he eventually gets 340 and declares himself satisfied. It’s hysterical though – these guys roll up on bicycles with little plastic baskets on the front handlebars – and the baskets are full of wads of notes!! Monopoly money!
We cross a piece of rope between two oil drums, and we’re in Ghana!! On one side of the rope, everyone speaks only French and the ladies are selling wonderful fresh crusty French baguettes – on the other side of the rope, only English is spoken, and the bread has become squat stodgy Hovis type loaves!! Astounding! And there’s an English newspaper on the desk in the Ghana Customs office, so while John’s filling in forms for the car, I catch up on the news according to the Ghana Times: the President of Ghana is not going to send troops in to support the incumbent Cote d’Ivoire President, there have been major rains and floods in Australia, the Ghana soccer team is decrying the loss of one of its main stars to an Italian team! Well, that’s more news than we’ve had for weeks!!
Everything’s far more relaxed here – no hassling, no touts selling money – although while John’s off getting the carnet stamped, a gentleman did come up to me in the car and offer me 300 as an exchange rate, which pees John off no end when I tell him!!
The mode of transport has changed slightly – still a fair amount of mopeds, but far more bicycles now and it’s not unusual to see a mama with baby on her back and another kid sitting straddled across the cross bar, a couple of chickens in the basket in front, balancing a basin on her head with bread/packets of nuts in it! We saw one young girl cycling along merrily balancing two lengths of plank on her head, at least 4 metres long!! Astounding.
The road today is seriously bad – in fact at times I’m really not sure if we’re on a road. Jeepers has long since given up even re-calculating, and keeps telling us “unable to construct a route. No starting point”, so we’ve switched her off – it’s too depressing! John keeps asking locals “is this the road to Accra?” And of course they all say “yes” - I keep telling him their culture does not permit them to say no!! And of course, it probably is – eventually!!! And of course everyone we ask about a tar road keeps saying “oh yes, just after ....the next town” Jawellnofine. We made the decision to come this way instead of going the official tar road way down from Ouagadougou to Tamale to Kumasi to Accra, and we’ve turned off at Tamale and are en route through Yendi, Nkwanto, Bimbilla down the Togo border and alongside the Volta Dam. Was it a mistake? Possibly so, but what the hell.
I had been hoping to see more of the Volta Rivers: on this trip we have already crossed the Senegal and the Niger, and will cross the Congo as well: the White, Black and Red Volta all start up high in Ghana and run into the huge Dam, one of the largest man-made dams in the world apparently. But in fact we cross high up near the source, then right down near the dam wall, and see very little of the water other than that.
Lots of police blocks along the road, but they’re all very polite although a bit startled every time they walk over to my side of the land rover, peer in and realise I don’t have a steering wheel in front of me! Most then walk around to John’s side and address him, and all are totally amazed at what we are doing! Not many overlanders come down this side of the world I think; most would have gone to Mole Nat Park and Kumasi etc, so we are quite a strange sight.
We eventually find ourselves a track off the road and take off into the bush for the night, hiding behind a cassava field, tucking the vehicle just off the road in amongst the cassava humps, and putting our table and chairs in the track because that’s the most level piece of ground. All very peaceful: we can hear the people walking and cycling along the road about 300 metres away, can see the dust from the other vehicles passing, but we sit sipping G&Ts as the sun sets and the dinner bubbles away merrily on the gas stove.
Caused total consternation, however, to the poor farmer on his bicycle who came around the corner just as darkness fell – the last thing he expected was two whiteys sitting drinking in the middle of his farm track!! But after a startled wobble, he stopped, greeted us very politely, and nodded his head when we asked if it was okay that we stayed here. Don’t think he knew what else to say!!
Another night under startling stars out in the African bush – wonderful By 8pm, everyone has stopped walking around, and there’s only the occasional brave soul out there winding his way through the holes and bumps in the road. There’s not a sound other than the night birds and insects, and an occasional call from a village far away.
Life is good.
At least another 170kms of dirt and bad road before we finally hit tar just outside Jasikan – what bliss!! Everything for at least 20-30m off the side of the road is absolutely coated with red dust – how these trees and plants survive breathing through all this dust I have no idea. Never mind the humans – the incidence of respiratory disease must be enormous, never mind eye problems from all the dust. And the harmattan is thicker than ever – apparently it hangs like this until about March/April, when the rains come and dampen the air enough to take the dust out. Dreadful.
I woke yesterday with an incredibly painful back – not helped much by all the bumping and jolting, and it wasn’t much better today. But I found a great cure – we stopped on the roadside under some bamboo trees for lunch, and I lay on Lavinia’s hot bonnet – sort of hot rock treatment upside down. It was wonderful – eased the aches and pains within 20mins!!
I have been seriously impressed by the number of schools in Ghana – every little village we pass through has at least one if not two or three schools, and a lot of the kids are in uniform and at school. Also a lot not, but apparently while school is officially compulsory, it’s obviously not well controlled. Still, it’s a beginning. The schools are I would guess from the colonial era – all built to exactly the same design, most a little dilapidated, but the kids are out there in the morning sweeping up the yard and picking up the plastic bags decorating the playground. Good to see,
Huge cassava cultivation here – fields and fields and fields of them – and every market stall has yams to sell, kids are carrying them in on homemade carts, huge truckloads of beautifully packed yams pass us regularly – most vehicles pass us!! Women carry basins full of them, they are spread out on cloth at the roadside – and on the tar road itself, chunks of cut yam and spread out to dry! Obviously everyone knows not to drive on the edges of the road!!
No donkeys here – amazing. Where did they all go? Cattle, goats, goats, more goats – the most delightful little short-legged curly-haired goats – and guinea-fowl which they obviously breed to eat, as there are lots and lots of them around, tame running through the village. Lots more vultures, but thin scrawny birds – very slim pickings here I’d say. They need to migrate to Muslim countries – we’ve certainly seen no road-kill left lying around rotting here!
By 3pm or so we’ve both hot, tired, dirty and frustrated with the road – may be talking to Benedict if we ever seen him again (he had recommended this route to us in Ouagadougou), trying to find a bush camp and pull of early, when we see a sign to Mountain Paradise 4km. A quick glance at each other, and we bale of on another dirt road and climb up the mountainside to what was an old government rest house from the colonial era. Delightful site – and best of all, showers!! Beautiful site, on the side of the mountains facing Togo – unfortunately the dust is so thick in the air that we can barely see it, but it should be fantastic.
A young black guy greets us, Reggie, part-time Ghanaian, part-time Londoner, who is delighted when John gives him a pack of Moroccan cigarettes as he’s been out for a few days and gasping! But half an hour of Reggie and we’re ready to run a mile!! Fortunately before it gets too bad, Tony Fiakpu the owner and a TV crew arrive, so it takes the pressure off us.
There follows a delightful evening – the TV crew are here to do a documentary on the place, and Tony has arranged for the local village song and dance group to entertain us. We sit around a huge bonfire under an enormous mango tree, and are royally entertained. Tony’s father has also arrived, a most delightful man, and we have some great conversation, both political and economic.
Dr Evans Fiakpu is Ghanaian, schooled in Ghana under Nkrumah’s era, then studied and practised medicine in Chicago for some 40 odd years. But he’s a Ghanaian to his back teeth, and has a house in Accra as well as a home in a local village, and is actively promoting poverty alleviation and empowerment schemes out here. We arrange to visit his bee-keeping project tomorrow.
A slow start to the day – Dr Fiakpu said be ready by 8am, so, being good Brits, we were packed and ready to roll by 8am. But the TV crew decided to go to the waterfall first, then had a breakfast chat – so the good doctor (working on Chicago time!) eventually took us off under his own steam! About 18kms down the road, off on a track that became nothing more than a rut through the fields and long grass, till we came out in this newly planted teak forest, festooned with yellow beehives.
Royally welcomed by Pascal Ernest, chief beekeeper, known to everyone as Mr Honeybee, we then had to get fully kitted up before venturing forth into the beehives. What a mission in the sweltering heat! Full jacket and mesh hat, trousers tucked into wellingtons, gloves taped around your wrists, more tape around your waist to stop them crawling up your crotch (the mind boggles!!) – I thought John was going to pass out! He was seriously suffering from a horrid snuffly nose and headache – not malaria, just an accumulation of dust, dust and more dust, and was not feeling on top of the world anyway.
But the time we were kitted out, the rest of the crew had arrived, and there was much joshing as the cameraman at first refused to wear the outfits, saying he wasn’t going to get close enough to be stung. Took a bit of persuasion and convincing before he agreed that he’d have to get seriously up close in order to get the pictures!! Then Mr Honeybee took us off on a voyage of discovery – pulling a hive to pieces to show us how the bees create the combs, the three kinds of bees, dropping all sorts of choice titbits of knowledge for us as he chatted on – Pascal is a really learned beeman, and has been in the bee business for some 20 odd years. He knows his stuff! In fact, he holds training courses and lectures on beekeeping as a means of supporting yourself, and he’s one of the key pillars of Dr Fiakpu’s empowerment schemes.
After several hours there (and the only casualties were Dr Fiakpu himself and Joe, the producer), we took off for their offices in the village to see the processing plant – a very simple extractor that creams out the most fabulous clear runny honey – delicious! They are going to do very well, I’m sure. If you’re interested, email them at honeybeeghana@yahoo.com – and the Mountain Paradise Lodge is fiakpui@yahoo.com. Stunningly interesting places, both of them, and a most stimulating visit.
Life has to move on however, and we had another few hundred kms to do before nightfall – only a couple of hours, everyone said. Everyone lied!!! Took a lot longer, the road was a lot worse than they said, and it was dusk by the time we hit the outskirts of Accra – dusk, dusty and jam-packed with Friday afternoon traffic. Does this sound familiar???
We’ve giggled along the road through Ghana – the names of businesses are a scream at times! Some of my favourites so far have been: Patience to all car wash & drin king spot; No food for lazy man Enterprises; Christ the Restorer Beauty Salon; Pumping is life Enterprises; Little things I have is enough Chp Bar; Jesus loves Dressmaking; City hunters fun club – we hunt what you can’t kill; Forgive and forget Business. Or Come home for meals Restaurant; Cort of many colours; Jesus loves you pigs; Holy Ghost hairstyles; Prayer the master key locksmith; Blessing hands auto shop; Auntie Peace Fish – and the Keep smiling cosmetics!! Fantastic.
We were due to stay at Max Maxted’s home, my long-lost cousin (Mom’s sister Jean’s youngest son). I think I last saw him when he was 8 or 9 years old, and he’s now early 60s, so I don’t think we’ll recognise each other! Max had given us GPS co-ords, so we religiously followed them – unfortunately Jeepers knew nothing about the construction en route just outside town, and we got caught up in some horrific roadworks – took us almost 2 hours to do 7kms. Anyway, a few phonecalls back and forth, the last one being from 50 metres away from the front gate, and we were hugging each other hello!!
We’d planned to camp in his front garden, but he’s in a complex, so that made things a bit difficult. But he very kindly offered us the use of his home, while he’s here – he’s with MTN and may be leaving in the next couple fo days to take off for Swaziland. But a hot shower brightened life up, and he took us to a delightful local restaurant for dinner, Tribes. Janice, his wife, is back in South Africa at the moment – and when we start chatting, we discover he has a place in Cosmos, at the Dam, probably about 10kms from us in SA!!! Small world.
We’ll catch up tomorrow – it’s bedtime!
First internet access in days, so I will be updating the blog imminently! Just wanted to let everyone know we are still around, hale and hearty, based for a few days with a long-lost cousin in Accra, Ghana.
More to come!!
Rest and clean-up day today! The fridge needs to be emptied and cleaned, laundry done, vehicle cleaned, ourselves scrubbed, blogs done.
Max gets up at the crack of dawn to run, so he’s out of the house by 5.30am – that’s still the night before as far as I’m concerned. I slept later, John was up earlyish, but is really not feeling good – very thick head, very snotty-nosed, so I’m dosing him up on Med-lemon and Vit-C doses, lots of tea and tlc!!
Max has a nice big washing machine and kindly offered us the use of it – the poor machine ran pretty much all day, trying to get some of the dust and grime out of our clothes! But by the end of the day we were clean, the gate boys had washed the land rover so she looked spotless – and they say they’ll clean the inside tomorrow – what a bargain!
We went off to Accra Mall with Max – it was like being back in South Africa!! Game, Shoprite Checkers, Mr Price – you name it, South Africa was there. Savannahs on the shelves, zoo biscuits, Mrs Balls – home from home. We’ll come here to stock up before we make the next big move.
It’s been really good to catch up with Max – we’ve not met since he was a kid, and once his mother died there was really no point of contact. So it’s been great to bring each other up to date. Have to get together once we’re back in Jozi – get all the kids together too! Let the next generation meet each other – I can see a Jozi Picken party on the way!!
In the afternoon we mosied over to Morne’s place – also a temporary MTN bachelor whose wife is back in SA, Morne has a condo around the corner from Max, and they run together every morning. We took our meat and some avos, he provided the charcoal and fire, and we had a good old South African braai on his patio. He also made a mean salad – long time since we’ve had such good greens!!
Home by 7.30, shower and bed for John by 8pm: I did some computer work, then crashed early too.
Hard work, this enjoying yourself!
Wonderful news – Tracy is expecting! She skyped this morning – most exciting news.
And it rained last night! In the early hours of the morning I was woken by this thunderous noise and thought the air-conditioning system was exploding, then realised it was rain pounding on the tin roof!! Fantastic sound – so much a part of Africa.
And it’s cleared the air a bit – not that much, but there’s a freshness around that wasn’t there yesterday. Max was out crack of dawn doing his run, then went off to church while John and I did emails/internet stuff. He doesn’t have wifi, but has a 3G dongle which we have been able to use. Most appreciative.
After church etc, we went round to collect Morne, and took a drive out to Asanke for a coke, sitting on the terrace overlooking the fishing fleet moored just below Jamestown. Fabulous beaches, but scruffy – garbage and plastic everywhere, not the sort of place you want to swim.
Then a longish drive through Teshie town, along the coast although you can’t see the sea, to the Dutch Hotel, where we stopped for lunch. En route we passed the coffin-makers – unfortunately closed or we’d have gone for a look – the guy makes coffins to order. Any kind, any shape, any style – you can have a cell phone (brand and number of your choosing), a car, a pineapple, a beer bottle (your brand, and with your sell-by date on it!). You want it, he makes it. Apparently weddings and funerals are big events here – Max says they’ll close off the entire street with marquees etc – permission not required!
After a really nice lunch, we drove around looking at the sights – saw where we’d missed the turn-off coming in and how to miss the roadworks!! Looked for the Nigerian Embassy, but it appears to have either moved premises or has taken its flag down and name off the wall – it’s just not around. So that’s one of Monday’s jobs – find the missing Nigerian Embassy!
We did however find the Angolan Embassy, so perhaps we can do that visa here. I have a slight hassle inasmuch as my British passport doesn’t have too many pages left, so I’m going to have to start using my SA one soon – it’s just a case of where to start!
Back at Max’s place, the gate guys are on to us, wanting to clean the inside of the land rover – so at the moment all her inners are out on a mat on the floor while the interior gets a spit and polish! And they’re religiously dusting and wiping down everything before they put it back – let’s just hope we don’t hit too many more dust roads from here on in!!
So, Nigerian visas today we hope. Problem is we have to find the Nigerian Embassy first!! Max drove us around yesterday trying to locate it - our maps and guides show one address – there’s no-one there; the map of Accra Max has shows another address – also vacant; the internet shows a 3rd – anyone home??? The Lonely Planet forum has a plaintive query – anyone know where the Nigerian Embassy in Ghana is?? No doubt we’ll find it, although with all the upsets there at the moment, maybe they’ve pulled up flags and gone undercover! Part of me would love to just skip it altogether, but it’s a bit difficult to get around – the alternative is to go north up into Niger, and that’s a no-no right now.
So, Nigeria it is – drastic traffic and aggressive louts/touts seem to be the name of the game. Max and Morne both spent several years up there, and neither have very much good to say about it. We’ll see!
3pm. Hot and bothered! We finally found the Nigerian Embassy, after much driving around and asking. The standard reply to the query is without fail “Yes. You go straaaaight up here...then you ask someone.” Except for the one really honest young man, who simply said “I am very sorry, but I really don’t know.” Anyway, we found it, marked it in the GPS so we know where to collect them from and went in to do the deed. Grant and Andy were there from Oasis – good to see them again and catch up – they’re all staying out at Big Millies in Kokrobite on the coast, which is where we’ll go after all this – be good to see some sea. Also met another Aussie driving another overland truck, with 22 people, en route to Istanbul – also at Big Millies. May be crowded! Anyway, the guy told Oasis Friday at the earliest, the other overlander perhaps next week so he’s decided to go through and try to get their visas in Benin – but we MAY get ours by Wednesday as there are only 2 of us to process!! Of course there were hiccups – we had to provide copies of all our car papers, copies of our health insurance and yellow fever vaccinations and drivers’ licences, so John had to skip out to go make photocopies – what a fag.
Then it was across to Land Rover (PHC) to book Lavinia in for a major service – poor thing needs it, despite all the preventative maintenance John’s been doing! Kaiser, the PHC man, told us that Louis (we met him in Tamale) had brought his vehicle in yesterday, and two other vehicles had been in last week, Merv and Swerv of TracksinAfrica. Have to make contact – they’re also here in Accra at the moment.
John’s off to Checkers to buy some groceries, I’m heading for my computer to do some editing!
Seven countries down, ten to go! Almost exactly halfway, both in days (74 so far) and distance (12000kms to date).
Some thoughts on the countries so far:
Morocco – I personally felt very uncomfortable most of the time we were in Morocco. There is a very strong Muslim influence, obviously, and I think despite “knowing this”, it took me by surprise. I found myself out of character the entire time: never looking anyone in the face, especially not a man who inevitably were the only people around anyway, always looking down at the ground, never addressing a man – the couple of times I tried I was either ignored completely or made to feel very unwelcome.
Yet it’s a magnificent country – I would love to explore more of it, get to know the people more. But I have a feeling it’s not really possible as a woman to do that – different for a man, yes. John felt very at home, chatting up everyone and their uncle, not quite sure why I didn’t want to go into a restaurant just because there were only men there!
Mauritania – similar to Morocco in terms of Muslim influence, but the additional hassle here is that you are only allowed in a very restricted area – the coastal strip, and at a push up north-east towards Adar. Everything else is out of bounds, within a terrorist zone, mined or just not possible! In actual fact, I think a lot of this is over-stated, and that it's possible t travel in much of the country without too much trouble.
Perhaps we should have takem the chance and driven across Mauritania instead of down into Senegal.
Senegal: this for me has been the saddest place. It’s beautiful – the people are absolutely delightful, friendly, obliging, amusing, cheerful – but the bureaucracy is a nightmare! After an absolutely hellish border crossing at Rosso, what should have been a long stay was cut short by being given a 48 hr passevant at the border – which meant spending another day in St Louis fighting for an extension, then having to go to Dakar (not on our original plan) to get the carnet stamped – add to that really aggressive police who are all out for a quick buck and will catch you one way or the other, and we landed up getting out as soon as possible instead of spending time as planned in the mangroves of Casemance etc.
Very sad – they really need the tourist money here, but they’re not going to be getting it like this!
Mali – stunning. I could easily spend a lot of time here. Lots of places toither bush-camp or in organised campements, the people are a delightfully friendly mix of Arab/Taureg and black African and the culture is vibrant. Bamako is hectic as a big city – police a bit over-zealous and touts a bit of a pain, but once you’re out in the rural areas, it’s great! The trip up to Tombouctou, although against all FCO and official advice, was a once-in-a-lifetime experience: I am so glad we made the effort. And the hike through the Dogon area opened our eyes once again to the fact that the ancient tribes people had incredible knowledge – very intriguing.
Would definitely go back to Mali, and spend some extensive time there. It’s a poor country, their burgeoning tourist industry hard hit by all the official bans and warnings about terrorists etc but we met some wonderful people who are doing all they can to stimulate and grow their own small areas – like Abdou who uses the income from his campement to fund the building of a school and small clinic in his village. Hard-working, industrious, they don’t just sit back waiting for aid hand-outs!
Burkina Faso – we scrambled through Burkina Faso from Tombouctou, not seeing as much as we should have as we were starting to run over schedule. A desperately poor country, and it’s obvious in the absolute survival life-style of the people. But friendly, cheerful – Ouagadougou is a great capital city, the women are colourful and stunningly clad, the men smiling and helpful. I regret not spending more time there. We never got down to Bobo-Dioulasso and surrounds, which is the main tourist attraction – one of the countries I’d like to revisit.
Ghana – once again we came in against the stream of normal tourism! Most people enter Ghana from Bob-Dioulasso and pick up Mole Nat Park, Kumasi (home to the Ashanti with all their rich history) down to Cape Coast on the Atlantic with its slave trade history and then across to Accra. Being otherwise, we entered from Ouagadougou right at the very top of Ghana, then ran down some incredibly bad dirt roads, all along between the Togo border and the Volta Dam (which we never saw!!) for two days – the thought was that we’d travel along the several Voltas (didn’t happen) and see some of the more rural villages in the mountain areas (also didn’t really happen!). What did happen was several days of unbelievable dust – the harmattan is in full swing and the atmosphere is clogged with fine dust particles blown in from the Sahara, and the dirt roads simply add their share of fine powder to everything within 30m of the road!
Still, we’re here in Accra to get the necessary visas and have been extremely fortunate to be able to stay with my cousin Max – hot showers and a washing machine make a huge difference to one’s life! Once the logistical things are done, we’ll back-track west out to the coast to do the beach and slave trade history thing, then make our way towards Togo, country number 8!!
Thought it was going to be such a quier day today - Lavinia went in for a service early, and I planned to do some major sitting on my backside editing. John went off exploring the local Oxford Street stalls, coming back with a new leather belt for me - all very mellow.
Then PHC (the land rover people) phoned. Turns out our right-hand rear drive shaft is defective and needs to be replaced - and they expect it will take a month before they can get a new spare!!! Oi vey - that put a damper on the day.
By the time John got back from arguing with PHC, Max was also back, and everyone put their thinking caps on to see what alternatives we have. As Max so brightly points out, if we get the parts, we can do the normal Nigerian thing and tip the land rover on its side in order to work on it!! That didn't really meet with John's agreement.
Anyway, talk flew back and forth: options of DHLing one from UK - concerns about Customs; of John flying back to the UK to buy one and bring it out in his luggage - concerns that he has only a single entry visa; of getting a spare from Land Rover Togo - but if Ghana don't have one, why would Togo???
Then Kevin phoned back from Nene Overland and restored my faith in him, Nene and the universe! Apparently this is a "common" defender 110 problem, it's a waranttee job for us, and Kevin has two specially strengthened ones which he will DHL out to us tomorrow if we just give him an address!!! (The idea being that if the one part on the one side is defective, it's best to replace both parts on both sides instead of fooling around. Makes sense??)
John can do the job himself (PHC will not do it for us unless they can import the parts themselves, which will take a month!), Max has said we can happily stay on here - but we have to be out by Mar 31st when he leaves for South Africa! Crikey - by Mar 31st we plan to be only a few kilometres from Broederstroom anyway!!
So, touch wood and all fingers crossed, things might not be as bad as they seemed a few hours ago.
It feels sometimes like one step forward, two back - but I think in actual fact we are getting somewhere quite successfully!!
Kevin at Nene Overland (wonderful service from these guys!) has shipped two sets of drive shafts to us - they are due to arrive in Accra tonight (ie Thursday). PHC Motors said it would take a month, so we felt we were doing quite well getting it here in two days, but then DHL said it would take at least 7 working days for them to clear it!!! That one step, two step thing again? Anyway, John has determined that he can clear it himself, so he'll be off crack of dawn tomorrow to start the negotiations with Customs at Accra Airport, cargo section.
All being well, if he's back by midday or so, we should have the old parts off and the new parts on by evening - then hopefully will take off to explore a bit more of Ghana than the suburbs and Embassies of Accra!! Which reminds me, we got our Nigerian visas (at $130US each!!) and also collected our 15-day Benin visas today. So that covers us all the way to Nigeria - and then we hope to get DRC and Gabon in Togo, Cameroon in Benin, and then Angola and Congo in Nigeria. I tell you, sometimes I feel as if half this trip has been spent in Embassies! Not to mention the cost - to date we've spent about £290 each on visas - and we're only halfway through!
Never mind, it's been great fun spending time with a cousin I have not met for years and years - Max has been an absolute star as far as giving us free run of his bachelor pad here has been concerned, and a huge help in finding places and things for us. We've have really battled without him.
And we've got to know some of Accra really well - Independence Road past 37 Military Hospital, where the trees outside the hospital are laden with fruit bats every day - urban legend has it that some chief came in to hospital and died and the bats are still waiting for him to come out! It's an amazing sight though, whatever the reason, especially in the late afternoon when they take off to go hunting!
And just a bit further on is the Presidential Palace, beautifully grandiose building with two huge trees at the gate - with about ten vultures who roost up there. Is that an omen or what???
The traffic here is as hectic as any we've seen; little taxi jobbies and the ubiquitous kombi vans jostle for space and clients, convinced that they own the road, elbowing everyone else out of the way with carefree delight. Vendors run down the lanes, selling everything you can imagine and a lot you can't! The woman who sells peanuts - in their shells, packed into a basin on her head, each peanut immaculately packed in her basin to face outwards! Towels, clocks, mirrors, paintings, apples lined up singly in long string bags, basins full of samoosas or vetkoek, bicycle tyres, plug adaptors, t-shirts all compete with the usual cold drinks and flags and maps for your attention. All done with a grin and a cheerful 'welcome to Ghana' when they see the vehicle! Haven't seen much begging, which is something - they seem to have a strong work ethic here. As we have seen on signs many time in various paraphrasing 'a lazy man gets no food'!!
I have to get out and take some photos - I've spent a lot of time indoors catching up with various chores and a backlog of editing - need to get out and about again!
Success - what a wonderful husband I have - every woman needsone like him!!
John cleared the parcel from the UK early this morning, much to everyone's shock - that's from Peterborough UK Wednesday morning to cleared in Accra Ghana Friday morning!! The locals are all reeling in shock - PHC promised to have it for us in a month, DHL said at least 7 days! Not when Franklin's on the game - 2 days max!!
Then it was back to Max's place to take the old bits out and put the new bits in - and by early evening (I managed to stop him working between midday and 3pm - you know what they say about mad dogs and Englishmen etc) we had a newly fitted set of rear drive shafts. Good for another 12 000kms!
And we've had the camping chairs sorted too - a local shoemaker has put two major patches on the arms to keep the whole thing together, as they were tearing at the sides - I had visions of going straight through one evning as I collapsed with a G&T in hand!
We're ready to roll again at last - hit the road, Jack! So tomorrow morning we're heading west again - I know it seems backwards, but that's the way this trip#s gone, I'm afraid - out along the coastal road to DoxCove and the Green Turtle, and the Elmina and Cape Coast Castles, scenes of much of the horrors of the slave trade in years gone by.
Unfortunately Dix Cove has no electricity and no internet, so it'll be a few days before we catch up again - be patient, we may have a problem!
It’s good to get back on the move again – Max has made it so incredibly comfortable at his place, that we’d almost grown roots here! It’s been a much-needed refresh break – we’d both got a bit depressed and tired of the trip, and were seriously considering whether to ship Lavinia back from Accra to Windhoek, then resume in Namibia. Africa is hard going in large chunks!!
The stop at Max’s was wonderful – he’s an easy host, left us to do our own thing largely, but was always there when something was needed. We’d have been hard put to do everything we did if it hadn’t been for him. And Morne (Mr Morne/Mr Max as they call each other!!) is a delight – we had two great braais with him, home away from home!
However, having made the decision to continue, we eventually dragged ourselves out, and made the trip back westwards to Dixcove – 278kms, but it took 2 hours to do the first 45kms in Accra traffic!! But a good tar road, just a bit frustrating as it’s very built up, and you no sooner leave one village than you drive into another – and it’s Saturday morning so every one and their uncle are out at the market!
We baiuled at Cape Coast, to see the first slave castle built in Ghana – of course this was the point of huge slave trade, and it’s estimated some 2 million slaves were taken from here to the various islands and points west. Horrific, degrading, unbelievable as it seems these days, it’s a fact of history we do well to remind ourselves of. However, it did get a bit personal at one stage, when a black woman turned on me and another Swedish woman and accused us of being ‘white and arrogant’ – it was hot, I was tired and feeling somewhat otherwise, so retaliated by reminding her gently that it was actually the blacks (in this case mainly the Ashante) who captured other blacks and sold them to the Arabs – who then traded them to the whites to sell in the plantations of the Caribbean and US etc. She didn’t like that, then accused us of stopping black progress. She was wearing an Obama Girl t-shirt (very popular here in Ghana), so I pointed to it and reminded her that he would not be top dog in the USA unless his great-great-grandfather had been sent out of Africa as a slave!!! At that stage (it was all getting a bit heated!!) another very nice elderly black gentleman stepped in, chided her, and said “She’s right, you know – maybe white, but right!” I decided I’d done the slave castle thing and left shortly after that. Coward!!
The Green Turtle at Dixcove was a bit of a shock – I think we’ve got so inured to African dirt and scruff, that it was an eye-opener to hit a clean, well-built, well-maintained beach resort with miles of pristine white sand beaches and shady palm trees!! Several other overlanders there – in fact they seem to have got stuck here, having been here for several weeks now. I can understand why.
Tom, the owner/manager, is a Brit, who’s settled here with his wife and two little kids, and is making a fantastic go of it. The weekend was spent enjoying the companionship of like-minded travellers, plus a groups of South African miners out for a day’s R&R from the Ashant Gold Mine and a group of 6 Dutch surgeons who were out for a week doing hernia operations at the local hospitals – they bring all their supplies etc, and simply use the local facilities and staff. Exhausted the staff – the usual is to do one op a day per hospital: they did 87 in 5 days between 3 hospitals!! I think the staff have all taken a week’s holiday now!
We had a great experience on Sunday: one of the landrovers left to return to Accra for visas etc, and on the way passed a taxi with a boot full of turtles – they bargained with the guy, bought them all and brought them back to Green Turtle to release them back to sea. Hope this is not the Sunday routine – catch the turtles, sell them back to the whiteys, then catch them again next week!!! Am I getting cycnical? Maybe so.
On the way back to Accra, we stopped to chat with a casket maker – funerals are huge here – well, church is generally. Posters all along the roadside proclaim the “Call home” of local people, while huge billboards announce upcoming church services or special meetings – church is big business. And the people are overtly very Christian – the names of their businesses are wonderful: Madman’s Fashion – we undertake funeral dressing; What a Glory Canopies; Your time Casket Makers; Silence is Golden Beauty Salon – her husband must be the one running the Keep you mouth shut Vulcanizing!! Then there was the Original Farasee BusStop, the Last Sapper Stop; Finger of God Phone Repair; Clap for Jesus Salon; Pee’s Spot (ouch!!!); One Blood Barber Salon – and my favourite, the Jesus Loves Cocktails – happy hour 5-7!!!
Another 286kms (did a bit of a detour here!) back to Max’s place for a last laundry stop and braai with Max and Morne, and we’ll be off to Togo tomorrow (Tuesday). Tom & Fran (one half of the Merve & Swerv team of Tracks in Africa) found out that it’s not possible to get Angola visas here, so we’ll proceed as planned.
Got a speeding fine on the way back – had been so good, sitting behind trucks chugging away, but in frustration took a gap, overtook on a solid line – and a policeman jumped out of the banana trees waving his radar gun at us – we’d been doing 83 right as we passed the 50 sign!! They had us short – but a very cheerful policeman convinced us that the choice was either to get written up and then have to go to court and probably pay 6 million something or the others – or pay him “something” for himself and all would be fine! We showed him John’s wallet – only 32 cidas in it – at which stage he leaned in through the window, poked John in the belly and said with a grin “but you have more under your shirt, I know!” And of course he was right – John carries most of the money in a pouch around his neck!!! What can you do? Caught out, but at least it was a jovial catch, not like the aggressive and scary Mauritanian and Senagalese ones!
Ghana has actually been good for us – it’s English speaking (aren’t we wimps??), it’s fairly clean, it’s more-or-less 2nd-1st World, and it’s given us the chutzpah to continue.
So we’re off again – next stop Togo!
Some photo-taking of the bats in the trees at 37 Military - amazing to see the gazillions of bats that hang in these trees right on the roadside, completely oblivious of the traffic screaming past, then on to the Holiday Inn for breakfast and some fast internet, then to Checkers for a last shop before hitting the road to Togo. Quite surprising to watch a cop being harassed for a change - very irritated black gentleman yelling at him because some car owner had parked his car 'right ON the line' - even blacks can be anal!!
Vegetation changed fats once we were out of town - sparser more grassy scenario, squat bushes; not the big jungly feel to the country that there has been the last few days. We drove past Ghallywood Film Studios - oh well, Nollywood next in Nigeria, so why not Ghallywood?? The road is great - beautiful tar - I like!!
We trot down to the Volta estuary at Ada, and have a delightful chat with some little kids. Lots of fishing boats beached: an older boy says the fleet doesn't go out on Tuesdays, because the ghosts fish on Tuesdays??? Oh well, this is Africa. Then we cross the Volta River, a huge bridge, with a massive sign just before it saying Police Post - It's an offence to bribe a policeman. 300 metres further on, we get stopped (fourth time this morning, but always very cheerful chappies). This was a classic. "Good morning," he goes with a big grin. "Where you going? Oh, right hand drive? So why you driving in Ghana? Okay father, what are you going to give me?" !!! No lead-up, no wink-wink, no finesse at all - just "what are you going to give me?" We were both so flabbergasted at the brass cheek of it all, we couldn't resist giving him something!
The tar lasted till Agbagblakorpe (what a name!!), then the deviations started: they've obviously done it in chunks, and for the next 30kms or so it's 5kms dirt, 4kms tar, 4kms tar, 5kms dirt - this could get really irritating!
Still, it's not really far to the Togo border - and the usual border hassles. One of those "new best friends" attaches on to us immediately, and he "helps" us through all the complicated processes. Everything goes smoothly until we get to the Togo visas - no exit stamp in my SA passport, so no visa given!! Oi vey, that's a hassle - not many pages left in the Uk one!! Anyway, there's the usual frantic flurry at the last minute, with everyone yelling for last minute cash needed and John getting really stressed - I hate border crossings!!
The entrance to Lome is stunning - long beautiful stretch of white beach and palm trees, then a bit of an industrial area with veggie gardens growing between the road and the factories - amazing!!
Then it's Chez Alice - and the Oasis crowd welcome us warmly! How wonderful to see familiar faces! Will go off with Andy and Grant tomorrow to the DRC and Gabon embassies - let's hope we get the visas chop-chop.
The heat's going to be a pain to night - hot and steamy! And the mozzies are out - well covered in Tabard!
A sweltering hot night – not sure I’m going to cope with the humidity and heat as we travel closer to the Equator!! The air is torpid – no movement at all, so the heat just hangs – and even perched as we are on top of the vehicle, it’s breathless. Think we need to invest in a little battery fan that we can hang from somewhere in the tent – anything just to move the air around. Of course the heavy mozzie netting doesn’t help, as it simply cuts down any puff of air anyway – but having seen Neil from the Oasis Overland truck who is swollen from mozzie bites, I’m accepting the net option!
Was a bit of a disturbed night anyway – we’re camped right next to the restaurant, and had two very very drunk drunks having a rip-roaring argument late night – I think one wanted to drive his van and the other wouldn’t allow him – rightly so – but the drunkest of the two walked around and around the van (which was parked next to us) storming and muttering imprecations until I was sure he was casting spells on us all!
And of course Togo is a centre for voodoo – reports say voodoo began here before spreading across the sea I guess with the slave trade. Lots of fetish markets, dozens of branches or sects, all with a High Priest or Priestess and umpteen fervent followers – all with their own dances and outfits, all very active. I can’t quite discover whether it’s a “good” force or a bad one; but it seems most Togoans are involved one way or another.
Once again we were on Embassy trails this morning, but these are proving fairly simple: the Gabon one we put in this morning we can collect this afternoon, and we can apparently wait while they do the DRC one tomorrow morning. I’m using my Sa passport now – and trust it doesn’t create problems down the line somewhere!! But by midday tomorrow (ie Thursday) we should be able to vacate the city of Lome, and make a trip out to Lake Togo, a few miles down the drag.
Well, everything’s only a few miles down the drag here in Togo – it’s a whole 82kms wide here at the coast!! Long narrow strip of land, carved up by the French in some weird colonial outburst of energy, both it and Benin have nothing much going for them in terms of places for us to visit. And what there is, is at the end of another disastrous dirt road, and I think we’ve both got just a tad tired of really scruffy roads! So I think we’ll make for the Lake, supposedly very nice, called Lake Mystery – not sure why, perhaps the mystery?
Wednesday night is culture night at Chez Alice – Alice is this interesting German woman who started this place some 26/27 years ago, and has created a haven for Germans (Togo was a German colony) and backpackers/travellers like ourselves: the place is full of the weird and wonderful! A huge thatched open-sided area serves as restaurant and meeting point – and has fans whirling all day which are absolutely fantastic in this sweltering heat! The two walls are filled with paintings in naive African style, while huge wooden statues and fetishes of all shape and size dot the rest of the opening: she has two monkeys tied up in the garden, and a string of teddy bears draped across “her” table! Huge solid wooden chairs, impossible to move they’re so heavy, cluster around little low tables – it’s quite a vibe here.
The showers leave a bit to be desired – water drawn from the well in a bucket which fills up a large bucket in the shower – you strip off, stand on some stones, soap up and use a smaller bucket to rinse off. Open air – oh well, this is Africa! And it’s a bit hectic constantly drawing water up from the well – I wonder how many buckets have landed up at the bottom because the person drawing it forgot it wasn’t tied on?? Certainly a good few pairs of sungalsses!
Anyway to get back to the culture night – she arranges for various dance/drum groups: these ones termed themselves Ballet Imprades, but what they did was definitely more voodoo trance/dance than ballet!! Very good though, absolutely stunning in fact – the dancers were excellent, and the chap on sticks was unbelievable. Never mind just walking around – this guy was into all sorts of contortions and acrobatics on his stilts – and of course John slept through the entire loud noisy affair!! Well is you can do it with Pink Floyd, what’s a bit of African drumming??
Oi vey – all that paperwork and they still get it wrong! I am suddenly Vancouver Crickmore-Thompson on the Gabon visa – don’t know where the Jennifer got to?? And the DRC one, which we’d hoped to get while we waited as Oasis did (and they had 26 to do!) we can only collect after 2pm this afternoon. Sort of screwed our plans of going to Lake Togo this evening – will probably just stay here I think.
Anyway, gave us time to get to John’s next project – buying and fitting a solar panel to charge the fridge during the times we’re standing for longer than a couple of days! Got to have something to do, this man! So we to wander around the back streets of Lome looking for a solar panel seller – why we didn’t do this in Accra I’ll never know!! Anyway, our taxi driver is great, and within a half hour, we have what John wants – then the search is on to find crocodile clips to affix it to the battery – so Patricia French teacher - what the hell is the French for a crocodile clip??? We shoot a red robot in the search, and our taxi is stopped and his papers impounded - much drama, just glad it’s not us for a change!! Can find nothing, but back at Chez Alice one of the locals that help out is brilliant, knows exactly what we want, jumps on his motorbike and is back in 20 mins with the right thing. I guess it’s true – anything’s available if you know what it’s called!
The traffic in Lome’s a bit better than Accra – maybe it’s just that’s there’s not so much of it! Gazillions of motorbikes – everyone rides one, and everything gets carried on one. It’s perfectly normal to have two up: either 2 men, or man & woman, or parent and child – also quite normal to see two parents with a baby/young child squelched in between the two of them. I’ve seen three up like this, with Dad balancing a huge plastic bag of “stuff” on the seat in front of him, while Mom holds a full basin of more “stuff” to the side and balances a full bag on her head!! Andy from Oasis says she saw five up the other day – that’s an achievement, to say the least! But nothing unusual.
The shops here in West Africa have been a delight too – there’s no such thing as windows or window displays (except in the ‘European’ Mall in Accra!), but the wares are simply displayed out on the road or pavement for all to see – make your choice from your car window if you like! Furniture, groceries, coffins, vegetables, bread, car parts, fridges – you want it, it’s there for you to see as you drive by! Gives a new meaning to window shopping, that’s for sure.
People here seem to be fairly poor, as they have been in the past 3-4 countries we’ve passed through, but the amazing thing is that there are NO beggars! No guys standing on street corners with signs, no young boys leading ‘blind’ men around, no disabled or crippled people hunched over in the gutters – except in Accra, where there were certain spots that had certain characters – their territory as it were. Everyone seems to have something to do, even if it’s just carrying a basin of cold water sachets through the traffic at the traffic lights!
John’s back, we have our visas, but it’s too hot and we’re both too limp to move – so we’ll stay tonight, take off tomorrow morning early and probably go straight to Benin – via the voodoo village and the village on stilts – interesting sounding both of them!!
A short day today, but an interesting one never the less. The border crossing leaving Tog was simple enough – then a quick swap of passports and a bit of breath-holding while my Benin visa was scrutinised – and accepted and stamped! All went quite smoothly until it came to having the carnet stamped: the first official sent us off to another – second gentleman didn’t even bother taking his bare feet of his desk before sending us back to the first! First threw a hissy fit, and eventually sent us to “chef” no 3, who was sitting on a stool under a tree watching some poor soul unload an entire flatbed of sacks of something – wonder what he thought they had under there??
Third gentleman very studiously studied the carnet, then phone “chef” no. 4 who was ‘busy’ – it’s the 50th Anniversary of Benin’s independence, and all the big brass are out of Parade Duty while the President charges around the country doing as many speeches as he can – fortunately it’s a small country!! On the basis of chef four’s input, chef three sent us back to chef two – who took his feet off the desk long enough to squint at the carnet, fill in the top part (which he could copy off the previous ones) then get completely stuck on the rest as there was nothing to copy! So he phoned a friend – and ten minutes later, chef three walked in the door, they both had a long discussion, red-inked a stamp pad and officiously stamped the bottom half of the carnet, tore it off and handed the rest of it back to us! Not sure what he’ll do with his bit, but that’s his problem – we have a stamped into Benin carnet, and that’s all that’s important!
Then a slowish drive into Grand Popo, where we’ve decided to spend the rest of the day mellowing out under the pine trees at the beach camp. John has prickly heat across his scalp and neck, and it’s driving him crazy – needs to relax, sit, stop sweating – and that’s exactly what he does: sits and reads a book for the rest of the day!
Well, except for the later afternoon, when we watched the porn show – two locals arrived in a rather slinky car, took off for the beach and parked themselves just in front of us, probably 100m away – and proceeded to get very steamy. Probably most uncomfortable too in all that sand!! Not to mention the poor guy lying on the 4x4 parked fairly close to us who’d arrived to watch the sun set presumably – he got more than he’d bargained for, and left only after shaking his fingers off and then wiping them down the sides of his shorts! Yuck!
It was all quite bizarre, because just across the road, in the stadium, the President was giving one of the day’s speeches – surreal to have a backdrop of political rhetoric to a porn show! Still, the later music was good.
We met a delightful guy, Mathias Fatchao, official guide for the Auberge Grand Popo, who speaks good English and is very capable of running all sorts of tours for people. His email address is guidemathias@yahoo.fr, his tel number is +229 97 59 44 52 – he can do the whole gamut of voodoo and stilt villages, and is very knowledgeable. Pass the word on – he’d love the business!
What a good night – a goodly breeze all night so we were able to leave the mozzie nets up on the tent – what a difference it makes to the airflow! John’s prickly heat feels better, time to hit the road after a quick shower. Shower block is across the road down a track – bit of a pain, but it’s neat and clean – by African standards!
The road to Cotonou is tar – but potholed badly and very very busy – is there something going on we don’t know about or is it just that it’s Saturday and market day?? Vehicles are every which way all over the road, missing each other and the potholes with no regard whatsoever to the rules of the road or the right side to drive on – it’s a circus. How there are not more accidents I’ll never know, but the only ones we’ve seen have been the major truck ones – the bikes seem to get off scotfree which is astonishing considering they carry anything from 2-5 people plus luggage on each!!
Huge carboy bottles being sold on the side of the road; John thinks they’re veggie or palm oil, but we see someone pouring one into a vehicle so have to stop to check. No, it’s fuel! Both petrol and diesel, sold much much cheaper than that bought at the gas station – is it smuggled in from Nigeria or stolen from some pipeline??? Wonder what they’d do if we asked to fill Lavinia – 120litres from bottles??
French baguette type bread here again, but not nice and crusty. And we’ve succumbed to the Oasis delicacy of FanIce – a thick creamy smoothie-type mush sold frozen in a plastic packet from guys with little carts – delicious! They’re right – this stuff is addictive!! I’m already trying to work out how to keep it in the fridge!
Not as much variety of veggies now: beautiful red tomatoes, onions, chillies, potatoes, yams, green beans are about all that is available, plus mangoes, papaya, bananas and oranges that look scabby but are actually delicious. Some lettuce occasionally, but other than that, no choices. Still, you can’t go far wrong with those to choose from.
We turned off at Abomey Calavi to take a pirogue trip out to Ganvie – a stilt village that now holds about 30 000 villagers, all fishermen, built about 4kms out on the lake. It was a great trip (once we actually got on the water – the usual African stand around and wait for something to happen stuff!!), in a wooden pirogue carved out of a single huge tree, small outboard engine put-putting us through the reeds and shallow water out to the village. Everything is on stilts, and everything is conducted by boat – there is a floating market each morning, the kids paddle themselves to school and you see little ones expertly handling a small pirogue full of water containers, steering and negotiating them inbetween others, jockeying for position at one of the several fresh water points. Amazing!
Some of the fishermen cut and plant tall palm branches to make compounds in the shallow water, then stack straw in these for the fish “to sleep in” – then throw nets around the compound, and stand in the water up to their necks catching the fish in their hands! Others fish traditionally off their flat boats, moving slowly through the water as they throw the nets. Fiercely independent, you get the feeling when you travel through that they tolerate you, but would really rather you weren’t there!
Then back on the road again, and we search for a place to pull off for some lunch – nothing, so we eventually duck down a side road and find some shade about 200m down. Only when we’ve stopped and unloaded what we want out of the fridge do we discover the big one-toothed stone god glaring at us from across the road! A quick bite and drink, then I duck down a little path for a pee – quite weird taking a leak under the eyes of several small fetishes and statues – I was expecting some garishly decorated voodoo priest to come leaping out of the bushes yelling and screaming the whole time! Fortunately nothing happened, but I felt happier once we were back on the road!
A few more kilometres and we were in Abomey, ancient home of the Dan Homey tribes, fiercest of them all, the tribes responsible to the capture and sale of millions of the people sold into slavery.
An “interesting” day! We decided to join Oliver (known to his friends as Indiana Ollie!) and Corinne, a Swiss-German couple from Basle spending two plus years travellking around Africa in an old Land cruiser with leopard spot trim. They call her Shaghuri – which apparently is colloquial for a girl from the country who’s not quite with it in the town – wears a leopard-skin bikini way after it’s gone out of fashion!
Anyway, we all took off with Marc Esse, the guide from Chez Monigue, for a trip around the museum and palaces of the kings etc – all on the back of motorbikes!! It was hysterical – they’d spent quite some time in Gambia etc and done a lot of such travel, but for John and I it was a first – an experience!! Not to be compared, Dan & Coco, with riding the “big” bikes – but we did beat you in terms of scary traffic, I can assure you!!We each had a bike and driver – the bikes were a variety of scrap and not-too-bad – Indiana Ollie’s came to grief fairly early on, with a nail through the tyre, requiring us to double-up on one – the girls were the smallest, so we got delegated – Corinne in the middle of the sandwich, me hanging on for grim life behind, my flip-flops flopping all over the place. Did I tell you no-one wears any kind of protective gear etc – and everyone except wimps wears flip-flops?? Bumps are taken at speed, meaning passengers bounce considerably – how these women manage with two kids and a basin of goods on the head I’ll never know.
Marc is an excellent guide – passionate about his country and his subject, very knowledgeable and able to make the dry history of several generations of boring dusty African kings and their forbears come alive – the Museum is very good, and he filled us in on all sorts of extras as well. In a nutshell, various tribes conquered and beat various others until the area of what is now Benin was subdued when King Dan was killed by - he renamed the kingdom Dan Homey (from the belly of Dan). A baddie of note, he built up the family fortunes by selling off his enemies as slaves, developing the slave trade into a huge going concern – approx 12 million were shipped out of Grand Popo! The people of Dan Homey he didn’t like he simply had killed, in a variety of ingenious ways – he wasn’t a very nice man.
The French took over in 1900, and 1960 saw Dahomey established as a Republic: in 1975 it changed its name to Benin.
There are 12 palaces of kings in Abomey, but only two are in any state of repair, and even that is dubious. But it was interesting to see and get a feel for the old kingdoms and their power. As interesting is the fact that this is really the origin of what we in the western world know as voodoo – it is the local religion, has been for centuries, and was taken across the sea by the various slaves groups. It’s still very big here: there are fetishes everywhere, voodoo priests have their “offices” on the roadside, voodoo ceremonies and rituals are very much a part of everyday life. And of course, when the Catholic missionaries came in, the locals embraced Catholicism wholeheartedly, seeing the myriad of saints etc as the same style of religion as theirs. Marc, like just about everyone we spoke to, claims to be a Christian – in fact he was late because he was at church first – but also carries his pocketful of fetishes and speaks to the priest (voodoo) when he needs to know something! As we were waiting to see the Sacred Lions (more of that later), three characters dressed in grass came dancing past, on their way from one ritual to another – this was the first day of a week of festivities designed to protect the village.
The Sacred Lions were a rip-off and a dreadful sight, especially to anyway who loves animals. Three really mangy animals in tiny cages, pacing up and down in boredom and stress, poked and stared at by crowds of locals and a few whiteys like ourselves. They’re scared because tradition has it that so long as they’re there, all is well with the kingdom – jawellnofine. I was really sorry I’d agreed to paying the 5000CFAs each we had to pay – left a bad taste in my mouth. Then we were taken t see someone’s grave – and all had to take our tops off – fine for the men, bit not-so-fine for the women, but we managed – I tied John’s ghutra around and was told that was okay! What made me feel rather irritated though was that Marc insisted this was a serious ritual – yet the local kids who were following us all wore their shirts!
It was quite amusing though; Marc got really frustrated at this point: I think we were all quite tired and Ollie got friendly with a bunch of kids, shooting photos etc – Marc kept looking at him and saying “so shall I continue the tour?” And of course John kept dropping sarcastic remarks, so it was somewhat left to Corinne and I to pour oil on Marc’s troubled water and act interested!!
An ice-cold beer back at Chez Monique was very welcome!
The voodoo bells and chants were going all night, then about 5am they started singing – very pleasant music actually, not at all disturbing, so at least I had some sleep. But no water in the showers, so it was a sponge-off again. And there was a naked man in the ladies loo, washing his feet in the basin!! Looked quite startled when I told him to get his pants on and go find his own facility to wash in!!
It was an easy run to the last Benin town, Ketou, where at the last second I saw a small sign saying Douane. No says John, the border’s till 20kms again, can’t be the right one. Well, when we eventually find the dirty dusty little scruffbowl that “may” be the border, the tar ends – right at the sign that says “Welcome to Nigeria”!! But seeing as we haven’t left Benin yet, we don’t dare go off the tar!ome questioning gets us the answer that we have to backtrack the 20kms to Ketou to get the carnet stamped, then come back here to get the passports stamped. Oi vey, and it’s only the beginning of the day!
The Customs gent is quite efficient if unsmiling; the immigration lady is just plain sour. But it’s all done with no hassle, and we’re out of Benin. Now we have to find the Nogerian officials. And that takes some doing – several different sets of directions, including one from the police, but we eventually find the offices at the very back of the village. The grass is overgrown, the track is almost impassable, there’s no-one in immigration (someone’s been here because there’s a plateful of rice upended on the floor that looks recently dropped) – then a cheerful voice calls us over to the customs “office” where he stamps our carnet, jumping up every few minutes to see if he can call someone to change money for us! He finds the immigration guy – who makes a big fuss of the fact that he has to stamp my entrance into Nigeria in the same passport as my exit from Benin – which of course proves a problem for the rest of the day as it’s now in a different passport to where my Nigerian visa is!!! Bloody bureaucracy.
And that really sets the theme for the rest of the day – we are stopped every few kilometres, first it’s the police, then it’s the customs, then the immigration, then a checkpoint with health inspection, restricted foreigners inspection and customs, then another immigration, another customs, more police – it’s all very polite and very friendly, with only a couple of them “hinting” very gently that they might like something. But at all of them, the stamp in the wrong passport becomes and issue – it gets written up at least three times!! Then we get stopped by the anti-human trafficking contingent and I am almost ready to lose it – but it’s actually only some nice old gent who wants to make sure we know exactly where we’re going!
Suggestion to travellers – take lots of photocopies of your passports with you, and fill in on them your visa details – and also for the “restricted foreigners” checkpoint you need your full itinerary of where you plan to go!!! Tedious, irritating that you just get some speed up and another Charlie jumps out at you, but it doesn’t pay to get uptight – a smile and a joke gets you a lot further.
Abeokuta traffic was a bit of a nightmare – we stop-started for absolute ages, winding our way through town and around markets until I wanted to scream. Somehow Jeepers got us onto the wrong road – plus which there were several deviations – but we did eventually find the Golf Course – now the Golf Resort, due one of these bright African days to be the Luara Water Park – when someone’s ship comes in! At $10US per person per night, I was expecting gold plated taps at least – all I got was a dirty shower with a showerhead that drops two drops of water per minute!! When I complained they said very politely they’d sort it all out – then promptly locked everything up for the night! Oi vey, there are times when I really can’t deal with Africa!
Matthew's first birthday today - started the day by setting some wild flowers afloat in the dam - no candles, so Huggy and I watched the purple lilac float away with lots of thoughts of what might have been God speed, Matthew.
Then it was off to the men’s showers – spotlessly clean – because the women’s look like they haven’t seen the light of day in months. We have our first argument with “management” (which is very fluid depending on who’s there to take the blame!), then the next with the garage where we go to fill up with diesel. Yesterday the price boards (before we got niara: yes, we’re in another currency again!) were all saying 95-110 niara, today’s say 110, so we pull in to the first that has diesel. “125,” he quotes us explaining that the board’s “old price”. We put in 20 litres, thinking to fill up at a better price elsewhere – and he promptly charges us 135!!! Needless to say, that got John’s knickers in a knot, and a heated discussion followed – unfortunately we didn’t have the right change to pay so landed up paying almost his new amount anyway – no way he was going to give us change.
Of course it doesn’t help to discover we’re on the wrong road out of town and Jeepers is doing her polite “re-calculating” bit: we eventually mute her in irritation! Determined not to fight our way back in and out of the chaos of the junction and roadworks of yesterday, we continue to Shamagu where we meet the main Lagos-Ibadan expressway, some 30kms out of our way, but a wonderful clear road. Of such things are decisions made! We toy with the idea of going down to Benin City then up to Abuja – the route looks shorter but it means Benin City and it’s 15 million inhabitants and their traffic – so we opt for the original plan which is Ibadan – Ilorin – Jebba, across the Niger then cross-country to Abuja. We may live to regret it, but who knows?
This traffic is enough already! The road is tar, but bulges in ridges like hardened mud-tracks swing you from one side to the other, potholes deep enough to swallow a goat line the edges forcing you into the middle of the road facing oncoming traffic while 4x4s, jam-packed taxis and innumerable petrol tankers hoot frantically to pass you at 90kms an hour – it’s hair-raising!! A huge billboard flashes past “Come unto me all you heavy laden” and judging by the burnt-out wrecks littering the sides of the road like foodstalls, many have answered the call. At one major bulge in the road, where the tar bulges easily 2ft above the road, police are stationed, just below another big billboard stating “Do not use fake drugs” – you have to be in Nigeria!!
Word of warning to fellow travellers – diesel is not easily obtainable! This may be one of the largest oil-producing countries, but 3 out of 5 gas stations have closed and stand forlorn and weed-covered, 1 out of 5 has just run out of fuel and the other one has gas but no diesel. We went to at least 7 before we could finally fill up after the previous saga 110kms back! Once you hit the towns it’s a bit better, but not much.
It’s really hot and steamy sweaty – but the van in front of us for some 20kms or so is labelled “Ice Climbing – Swiss Alpine Guides”!! The traffic is steadily increasing as the day draws on – and there are literally hundreds of petrol tankers – have no idea whether they’re full or empty – lining the sides of the road. At times they stand two or three deep, long lines extending back for maybe a kilometre and a half. All labelled “Highly Inflammable – Do No Smoke” – and all having their drivers boiling up a cuppa in the shade underneath the vehicle!!
We get into a traffic jam of note on the outskirts of Ibadan – I counted 30 tankers ahead of us, interspersed with bakkies and cars, crawling forward half a car’s length at a time. The taxi’s of course have no need to sit in the queue – they drop off the shoulder of the tar, in most places a good half metre down, sometimes more, and travel whichever way they like – sometimes with the stream, sometimes against it – which of course makes for long noisy arguments when they meet the taxis coming the other way! But everyone’s actually very cheerful, and when someone gets stuck because the drop off is too big, well, a dozen or so cars materialise and cheerfully lift him down!! That jam took us and hour and a half to do 5kms – and the taxi pusher-inners didn’t do much better – we kept meeting them along the way anyway!!
As John says, his image of Nigeria so far is of a giant car scrapyard – everything’s brown, no colour at all, everything’s derelict or broken down or burnt out – a huge garbage can!
We’ve realised it’a all in the question asked. Don’t ask “Is this the road to Abuja?” because all roads lead to Abuja – eventually, one way or the other!! Don’t ask “Is this the road to Ilorin?” but rather “Is this the NEW road to Ilorin?” otherwise you land up doing what we did – struggling along a pot-holed disastrous road while vehicles flash down a brand-new highway not 100 m to our left!!
Lots of police stops, but everyone’s very friendly, no hassles, and after a bit of joking and much comments on the driving to Johannesburg story, we’re free to go. We get asked a couple of times why the steering wheel’s on the wrong side, and they’re both slightly confused and slightly mollified by the explanation that both UK and SA drive on the right hand side!! One gentleman wants to know what I’m writing about the Nigerian police in the journal on my lap, and I quickly tell him “Only good things!”
Then about 20kms out of Jebba our destiunation for the night, a bunch of yellow fluorescent-jacketed youths lounging on the roadside see us coming, and leap out to accost us, brandishing their long nail planks and bamboo canes. We stop, and they demand to know where our tax sticker is. “Tax sticker?” “Yes you must have local tax sticker. Pay us now!” “No way, we’re not a local car, don’t pay local tax.” “Yes you must – you didn’t pay last year when you came.” Etc etc etc – eventually we both get angry, tell them politely to f---off and drive off – hoping and praying they’re not going to stick that nail plank down!!
I’m just moaning when I see a sign “go slow bumbes are head” – that takes my mind off things for a few seconds until I work it out – go slow, bumps ahead!!!
Jeepers beeps frantically to tell us we’ve arrived, but it takes another ten minutes or so before we can actually find the VIP Colony Guest House up on the hill above the town – old Paper Mill property, delightfully clean – we take a room to spoil ourselves, and Matheus the caretaker offers to go down into the village to get us rice and meat for dinner. We choose the room with a bath, then Matheus tells us “Sorry sah, the water does not rush out the taps.” No hassle I think – except he means it doesn’t come out the taps at all. Oh well, he’s provided huge barrels of water next to the bath, so we do a bucket shower.
Amazing the things that make your day when you’re travelling!
A lovely cool night with air-conditioning and a fan – the wind got up during the early hours, and I was quite pleased we were in the room and not in the tent!
On the road by 8.30am and it’s still cool as we cross the Niger River again – last time we saw this river was crossing it on the ferry to Tombouctou; here we are kms later, and it’s as big and wide as it was then. That might make a good trip – from the source in Guinea up into Mail to Tombouctou, then down Mali and the full length of Nigeria down into the Delta?? Some 4000kms by pirogue – does that sound like an adventure or what?!!
By 10.30, we’ve done 26km, overtaken 27 fuel tankers and had the same amount coming towards us, passed at least another 15 burnt out or broken down on the roadside: we’ve decided the ones travelling with us must be full, coming from Port Harcourt and the refineries inland to the north, the ones passing us going south must be empty returning to Port Harcourt for refill. Where that leaves the hundreds that line the sides of the road, I have no idea! And I’ve been counting – the ratio has increased to 1 out of 7 fuel stations is open and has gas!! Several of them are now being used as tanker-parks – broken-down, derelict tankers in a derelict gas station! And very few of those garages that are open have diesel – in Oyo, a big town, we diesel-crawled for 4 garages before we found diesel. Amazing – where does all the fuel go??? There are still hundreds of small guys selling plastic bottles full on the side of the road – more petrol sellers than veggie or goods stalls.
Nigeria’s the 3rd largest oil producer, according to my guide book – where does all the money go? The place is a mess – as John says, it’s one long garbage tip! Schools are broken down and empty, health seems a huge problem – we’ve seen more cripples and deformities and amputees here than anywhere else on the trip, the villages are dirt poor and every is scratching for daily survival, living in dusty squalor. Dreadful case of no money reaching the man in the street.
And we saw on TV last night that Egypt has just erupted and Mubarak’s resignation is being called for – again, the country’s riches are not reaching the man in the street. Nigeria is a walking time bomb: rich vs poor, Muslim north vs Christian south - it’s a revolt waiting to happen, both political violence and/or sectarian violence. When we eventually get to the Sheraton, our destination for the night, the cars are searched going into the car park, the ablutions are locked at night “in case someone puts a bomb in” – although quite why anyone would want to put a bomb in the toilet of the squash court is beyond me!! Everyone’s on hig alert after the past few weeks trouble here. And I get the feeling it will get worse long before it gets better.
The further north we go (and we’re sort of wending our way back north for a while now), the more Muslim it gets – the men are all in robes, the women and girls all wear head scarves and long dresses. Apparently 12 of the northern states have declared, and are imposing, sharia law, and the pressure is on to push this down south as well. Abuja fortunately is excluded, being the capital, but as we drive in, the biggest building on the horizon is a enormous gold-domed mosque with four minarets – quite spectacular and certainly making a statement.
Singer sewing machine has certainly established itself here in West Africa – most villages have a tailor sitting behind a treadle machine, beavering away, and it’s not at all unusual to see someone carrying a hand machine on their head – making a house call, I guess.
Another policeman flags us down, snaps a smart “Yes Sah” salute at us, then very politely asks us whether we know where we’re going, and if we know the way there. Then wishes us a “Sfae journey, Sah!” and waves us on again! You can’t fault them – the Nigerian police have been the politest and least graft-demanding of the whole trip. Amusingly every so often a group of youths plant red flags in the sand at the side of the road, then lean laconically on some shovels asking for “work money” as you pass by – if there was any evidence of work done in the past week or so, we might oblige! The roads are seriously bad – goats could lose themselves in some of these holes – and continuous: it’s very tiring, and we average 20kms an hour for long stretches. Lots of posters for huge big church revival meetings promising prosperity and health – and I get all cycnical and wonder why the church doesn’t get involved in lobbying for better roads. They’d certainly have more parishioners – I don’t know what the death toll is, but it must be very high!
Every now and then there’s some evidence of farming: crossing a greasy brown river, there are suddenly fields of sugar cane, and every village we pass is selling cut-off peeled chunks – looks quite nice. We pass the collection point – the cane comes in on people’s heads, dragged behind walkers, on carts, on trucks – and seems to be cut into shorter lengths then shipped out of here on bigger trucks to somewhere. There’s not a lot of vegetable gardening, but we pass several presumably empty fuel tankers carrying baskets of stuff on top of the tank – tomatoes in one, potatoes in another. An extra cash-cow for the driver as he returns the tanker empty??
And then we’re in Abuja – a new city (built as a new neutral capital after the trauma of the Biafran War made Lagos a no-no) and it’s obvious where a lot of the money has gone! Huge buildings, wide roads, flyovers, big smart palatial homes – hmmm. The Sheraton stands very close to the Central Mosque, but dulls by comparison – slightly jaded, slightly shabby exterior, although the foyer and lobby are a towering space that is quite surreal after months of tent-living! We’re shown around the back of the hotel, behind the staff quarters, and it gets shabbier and shabbier. As we pass the dog kennels (for Abujians who take a weekend off somewhere etc), and the garbage dumps, we see the rest of the crowd – two overland trucks, another land cruiser, three motor bikes, all travelling south like us. There are more people camping at the Sheraton than there are residents in the hotel!!!
We’d been warned about the smells etc – but it’s actually not too bad – fortunately they’d removed the two dead dogs who’d been thrown onto the garbage heap after they “expired in the night” as the cheerful guard told us. All they did was carry them a few hundred metres, on the other side of the staff football field, and dump them down the other side of the wall towards the river!!! Jawellnofine – this is Africa, I keep reminding myself.
We scramble to get the paperwork formalities done – jeez they want more information than if we were registering at the hotel. Perhaps they think we’re more apt to steal the silverware?? I get taken aside and quizzed at some length as to why I have a different last name to John – “are we actually man and wife?” I get asked. For a fleeting second I wonder if I’m going to get nabbed under sharia law – then tell the guy (with a smile of course) that it’s really none of his business, but that I like being independent. That floors him completely and he walks away muttering while we hit Happy Hour in the Elephant Bar!
Well, we've had a very successful two days - got our Cameroon visas yesterday and picked up our Congo visas today - last one goes in on Monday as today's an Angolan holiday!!
Other than taking really hair-raising taxi-rides to the Embassies, sitting around Embassies, filling in forms, getting photocopies made - well, the rest of the time's been spent back at the Sheraton. We used their internet yesterday - big mistake, as those are definitely mega prices for a minor service. Today have come to the Mall - much cheaper but much slower. You win some, you lose some!
We decided to have breakfast here, and a very cheerful chappy brought us a flashy menu. "Pancakes!" I exclaimed. "And milkshake - that's me." John chose the Big Breakfast with fresh organe juice. He looked a bit disturbed, but took the order - came back a few minutes later. "Terribly sorry sah! No pancakes. And no Big Breakfast. And sorry sah - no fresh juice. No milkshakes." "So what do you have?" I asked - it's 10.30am remember. "Chicken and chips," he responds with a happy grin!
Had a great evening last night with Claudia and Andrew (in Toyota that they shipped from SA to Ghana and are now driving back), Nicholas and Isabel (Flemish couple on offroad motorbikes travelling from Antwerp down to Angola, acroos to Zanzibar then down to SA) and Jurgen (German on a big BMW motorbike, travelling Germany to SA and then who knows where). Everyone has amazing stories to tell - it's such fun listening and comparing notes. And of course we're all stuck amongst the dog kennels and grabage heaps, using the huge stripy staff buckets to do clothes washing, the toilet and showers in the squash courts for ablutions - one big happy family.
I think the Sheraton's got a bit nervous that there are more overlanders than hotel guests - came out with an offer this morning for anyone who'd like to upgrade - $100 per room. As we're paying $3.50 to camp, I think we'll stay camping!! Although it is nice to use their air-conditiopned lounges to sit and work!
Which is where I'm going now - back to work! Have lots of editing to do, need to do some major catch-up. It is physically impossible to use the computer in the vehicle on these roads - disaster!!
Back at the behind-the-hotel campsite,John was bored. So he decided he needed to see if he could fit a plug to the fridge so we could charge the fridge directly from mains power if and when we found a campsite with mains power available. What started off as a simple job of course progressed into quite a complicated affair – he found the connections, found that he could do it with a computer-type plug – but also found that the way the fridge was mounted means there’s no room to fit the plug. And of course putting the whole thing back together again was not quite so simple – it involved him flat on his back beneath Lavinia, me with my butt dangling out the rear door holding down the top of the screw he was trying to fit by feel from below! Anyway, with help from Andrew, all was eventually returned to original, and he was happy that he’d found something out – that we can’t do it??
It gets really hot and steamy at these latitudes: by 10am you’re sweating a ton! John I think got very dehydrated, so we were dosing him up on re-hydrate most of the day, and he was feeling much better by the evening. You have to be careful; just drinking a lot of water doesn’t change the problem, you have to replace the salts you’re sweating out. And the major hassle is it doesn’t get any cooler at night – well, it gets cooler, but is still muggy and humid, so you’re still sweating.
Roll on Namibia and the dry heat!
The things you do when you're on the cheap!! Here we are, sitting in a bakery, plugged in to wall-sockets to recharge phones, cameras and computers while we wait for the cyber cafe to open, watching the world burn on CNN! Egypt has erupted, oil pipelines burning, protestors causing mayhem and calling for Mubarak’s withdrawal, more bombs just up the road in Jos (about 200kms north of us and where Isabel & Nicholas are motorbiking to today – stay safe, guys!), cyclones in Cairns Australia – is there any good news anywhere??
It rained last night – mango rains the locals called it – early, caught us all unawares, so everyone got soaked. Both ends of our mattress was soaked (we were taking a luxury eat-out at Luigi’s, having a build-your-own-pizza and buffet eat-all-you-like salad bar!), but otherwise all was okay. Not so good for the Oasis guys, whose little mozzie-net only tents got completely drowned while they were enjoying Happy Hour at the Elephant Bar! Those with Hennie style canvas tents were fine, but the others all had to make do with kipping on the benches in the truck – not a comfortable night I’m sure, but they were all very cheerful at breakfast. “Practice for the Congo,” says Grant cheerfully!
Jurg (the German on the big BMW bike) had also been celebrating in the Elephant Bar, didn’t put his rain sheet up over his borrowed tent, and everything was soaked. Late night (we’d just got to bed) all we could hear was “I’ll get sick if I stay here, I’m checking in to the hotel.” This morning he has all his things spread out across the campsite, attempting to dry them – but there’s so much moisture in the air, I think it’ll take a while!
So today’s another sit-around day – I’ll edit, John plans to go to the market to look for bottled water and maybe a little fan for the tent – it’s very breathless at night, and perhaps just a small fan will blow enough breeze around to cool things down slightly.
Perhaps we’ll break down by tomorrow and pay the 2000niara to take a swim in the beautiful pool – who knows!
Had a compliment the other day - well, I THINK it was a compliment?? Walking with another blonde girl, very anorexic slim, and the black local walking with us was expolaining the difference in cultural appreciation. "She," he says pointing to the super-slim blonde, "is beautiful to you. She," pointing to me and making a large figure 8 in the air with his hands, "is bootiful to us - we like our woman big." Huhhhh!!! Diet - here we come!
A hopefully successful day today (monday) - we were at the Angolan Embassy by 8.15, only to be told they only opened at 9.30 and we'd just have to wait. Had a very convivial chat with the large security guard with an even larger gun, who was telling us all about his various postings to safeguard embassy staff - in Jhb, Cape Town, London - he'd travelled! Then a diplomatic car from the US Embassy (about 100 metres up the road) arrived, and parked: slap bang in front of the no-parking sign. Suddenly this convivial man was convivial no longer and a very very heated exchange followed, with lots of gun-waving and gestisculations on his side and shouts on theirs. So when he then told us we had to wait on the other side of the road, not in front of the Embassy where we had been sitting chatting, we moved! Eventually there were maybe 30 of us, all shepherded across the street to stand in the shade of a broken down wall, waiting in the "Angolan Waiting Room" for the Embassy to open!
Once it did however, it was all very official and organised - we can pick our last visas up by 11am on Wednesday, and then we're out of here, down to the coast and finally on to Cameroon. We then inshallah as John says, have plain sailing all the way to SA - no more visas to hang around for!
It's a frustrating part of the trip, that's for sure, this sitting around waiting. But there's really no other way to do it - it's almost impossible to get them ahead of time - most of them would be out of date before you got to the country involved! So, patience, patience and more patience.
Andrew and Claudia (the South Africans who have managed to get into Nigeria without an entry stamp!!) were off early this morning, to collect their police escort from the airport, hopefully get their Angolan and Cameroon visas today, and then the police will apparently "escort" them out of the country. What a performance! All because they came through the border on a road that had no border post and therefore couldn't get an entry stamp - they have their visas and all the other stuff, all they need is a stamp - you'd think the guys would just stamp it here. They can prove exactly where they've been, where they entered. Hope it all goes well.
Other than that, life trundles along at the Sheraton - laundry to be done in the big buckets behind the kennels, food to be got from the market, editing and maintenence on the vejicle to be worked at. Interesting to see how the other half lives - huge conferences here, the 4x4s have been rolling in all morning. But these are pavement-crawlers, not off-roaders! All with a driver in uniform, all with very elegant folks stepping out for a day's high-profile business/executive meeting - have been several high-power meetings of gents in full Aran dress - connected to the Egyptian troubles?
You sort of live in your own little world as an overlander - the affairs of the World impinge every now and then, but really only as far as whether it will affect your next passage or not! As we're travelling south, trust the problems up north will stay out of our way.
Although the weather looks a bit horrific - another couple just got to Namibia (where's it raining unseasonably) and there's a 67% expectation of rain around here - which bodes ill for both Cameroon and Congo roads!
Oh well, it's an adventure I keep telling myself!
Hopefully our last day here!! Enuff’s enuff, as they say.
It was a lazyish day: i did a lot of editing, John did some final greasing and maintenance, and we spent an hour at the Elephant Bar Happy Hour! Hard day.
Happy Hour’s quite an institution here – most of the overlanders rock up for half price drinks – and the staff provide snacks of some sort – tonight was very spicy fried chicken thighs – hot as hades but delicious. There’s always British soccer playing on the large screen TV, and it’s great fun watching the ladies of the night slowly roll in and start to suss the crowd, looking for their pick for the night. They get a ticket at the door outside, and as far as we can ascertain, that entitles them to one free drink which they have to nurse – everything else obviously gets paid at champagne prices by the mark chosen. According to Jurg (the german BMW biker), they charge out at 100euro, short time! No wonder they can afford the glam outfits they rock up in!! And one of our girls said she had been in the squash courts loos (“our” facilities) late one night and the ones who had not managed to pick up a mark for the night were all in there, shedding their glad rags, showering and changing into track suits and day clothes!
Back from Happy Hour, we all groaned to see the Toyota back – but were met with a cheer from Andrew and Claudia who then regaled us with their saga of the day. After an entire day spent in and out of one after another office at Nigerian immigration, they had eventually been shown to the big big boss. “We’re thinking of giving you a soft landing,” he said, “because you have broken the law by entering without visas...” Andrew interrupted. “But we HAVE visas!” He flipped through their passports, all surprised when he saw the visas, then exclaimed. “So all you need is an endorsement stamp!” Picked up the phone, phoned someone and barked out some orders, then sent them down to the very first office they’d been to 11 days ago, to see the very first man they’d seen then – who took the passports, flipped through, and stamped them!!! No endorsements, no armed guard to escort them out the country – they even got a visa extension for 15 days – not that they’ll be using this – they’ll be out of here early tomorrow morning, heading for the border!!
Morals of the story – never proceed without the proper stamped documentation – if necessary reverse your steps to the original point of entry! And find out the terminology – they’d spent 11 days, literally in the dog boc behind the Sheraton, stressed to bits, waiting for an “entry” stamp when what they apparently needed was an “endorsement” stamp! Like asking “Is this the road to Abuja?” when for a local, all roads lead to Abuja one way or another!!
So, they’ll be gone tomorrow, Oasis are off to Calabar, we’ll hopefully pick up our Angolan visas and take off, and the AfriTrails truck will leave midday as well after sorting out their visa hassle – Cameroon refused one of the kids’ visas as he is only 19 – insisted on letter from his parents, copy of birth certificate, mother’s proof of identity etc etc, all to be obtained from UK urgently!!!
Note to self – remember, Africa is a bureaucratic nightmare!
Two other landcruisers pulled in last night and we chatted to them this morning – four young guys on a 14-week contract to map the West African game parks – what a hard job!!! Needless to say, they are having an absolute ball, taking roads certainly less travelled. As they report, most of the parks they’ve visited are almost non-existent; no infrastructure except basic huts that the guards sleep in, very little game left – but in the most astoundingly beautiful areas. All to be placed on Google Earth – search for MAPA and national parks/conservation areas and you’ll be free to play!
Our Angolan visas were marked for collection at 10.30, so we were there at 9.30, just in case. We actually got them at 11.50 – not too bad in African time I suppose. Then it was Out Of Abuja!! Not a moment too soon. Abuja is a clean, tidy city, wide streets manned by manic taxi drivers all emulating Lewis Hamilton in Australia – the lean green machine with white stripes all have holes or patches on the steering wheels from where their thumbs have worn a groove! But it’s a boring city, too new to really have much character, and the only sights worth seeing are the ginormous gold-domed mosque (which I can’t enter!) and the large catholic cathedral built right opposite. Jawellnofine.
Out on the road we collapse laughing at a billboard promoting Goodluck Jonathon for President, with his running mate, someone or the other Sambo. The typesetting however makes it read as GOODLUCK...Sambo – bit of a no-no for all us pc people! There’s a huge haze over everything – at first I think it’s just city pollution, but 50kms out of the city and we’re in rural country, and still the haze remains. Humidity? Heat? Can’t blame it on the harmattan any more – the desert’s far too far away!! A walking tie rack passes us – a vendor with an umbrella with ties attached, hundreds of them – neat idea! Then a kid pushing a wheelbarrow of stuff – everything under the sun, from cellphone covers to torches to plastic mugs to flip-flops, piled higher than he can see over – I guarantee you could find anything you wanted there.
Out of the city, we’re into “Campground” territory – big boards proclaim Goshen City Gospel Camp, Redemption Camp, Miracle Hill Campground, Hallelujah Camp, Holy Hill Blessing Camp broken only by the occasional herd of scrawny long-horn cows and deserted derelict gas stations. The traffic has thinned out, and the road is fantastic – every time John says that, I give him a kick because I’m sure it’ll change things!! Some market gardening, not much, gazillions of mango trees although very few mangoes for sale – maybe too early still? A few big school complexes, seemingly empty, but if you look hard you can see little heads in the classroom windows – a big building, the King Jordan Messiah Temple – some mixed messages here?? And all along the sides of the road, and in fact when we come into a village with a central reservation, there are long sections of sliced cassava laid out to dry – it amazes me that no-one drives over it!!
4.30pm finds us in Makurdi – tired, hot, sticky, sweaty, so we decide to take a room with a shower. The only place we know of is the Dolphin Entertainment Centre – we should have crossed the river and taken our business slightly further on, but oh well, it was clean, it was adequate – it had a bath (with no plug) and a bucket for a bucket shower, and air-conditioning that worked!
And a very nice outdoor area where we ate our dinner, tinned salmon and fresh salads, before absolutely crashing.
Wow! Makurdi’s a big town – should definitely looked further afield for a hotel! Naval base (jawellnofine!!), airforce base, huge university of Benue – all very smart. Had a chat with the guys at the hotel earlier; they’re fascinated by all these whiteys driving so far – have no wish to do the same however. When I ask why, they just look at me blankly. I guess it’s a bit like inviting a rural black to have a holiday staying in a grass hut in the bush???
Also five police blocks before we are 5kms out of town! First was the VIO (vehicle inspection Onit??), where an old man checked the licences and car registration and grumbled a bit about the right hand drive, but decided that as John was older than him, he really shouldn’t complain! Then came the Federal Highway Patrol who slapped out their nailed plant but took it away when I gave the huge burly guy a packet of lavender tissues!!! Then just a string of various police, none hassling, all just waving us to stop – and in the slowing we actually finally saw how the locals get past so fast. The car sidles up to the policeman, a hand squirms out the window, a quick handshake and a note changes hands. And they’re blatant about it – the policeman will then wave us on or to stop showing us the note quite openly!! Oh well, what can we say? It’s Africa?
Seems to be some sort of electioneering day – stacks of posters and flags out suddenly, all quite jovial. Goodluck seems out of luck in this area – haven’t seen hide nor hair of him all day. Lovely neat little villages along here, and the vegetation is changing, getting far more treed. We are taking every-increasingly small roads according to the Michelin map, but strangely enough they are just getting better and better! Wonderful – 60kms from the Obudu Cattle Ranch, and the road is by far the best we’ve been on in Nigeria – and it’s a white road!! A small slate sign pointing up to the village says “Food is Ready” and that reminds us it’s lunchtime – a pull off the road garners the usual stares and gawks, but we gawk equally at the sight of a motorbike carrying about 10 stacked plastic chairs!
Then it’s through the Obudu Cattle Ranch gate – very impressive, even though it costs us 250niara to drive through!! Up an unbelievable windy 11km road – they call it the Intestine Road, and I can understand why! About 5kms up we hit fire devastation – they’ve had a very recent fire; we can still smell the smoke and the ash is lying in the road. It’s a 159 room hotel and conference centre – immaculately kept, beautifully done – with a surly uninterested receptionist who just gives us a hard time! Oi vey!!
John tells her he’s made a reservation by email; “our email doesn’t work” she says. “So can we have a room?” Which one? “Well, we booked a standard room at 18500niara.” 18500? She looks down her snotty nose and purses her glossy Angelina Jolie lips. Conversationally I ask her when the fire was? “Fire?” she replies. “We haven’t had a fire here!” Huhh?? I have news for her!!! I then ask if she has any brochures or info on the hotel. She ignores me and says to John. “Give me the money now.” I assume she actually means Could you please pay now rather than later?
Anyway, after a refusal (on my part) to take the room she allocated (at the back overlooking the carpark) and insisting on one with a view of the forest, we’re showered, cool, and ready to take a walk around. We land up taking a ride down the 11km cable car – bit hair-raising with John with his eyes closed and gasping as we dropped over the edge of the escarpment! Had a quick swim at the bottom – where do these folks get all the money from?? Chatting to the attendant (I didn’t swim) he assured me that “some days they get up to 10 people a day in the waterpark” – a multi-million naira effort. We seem to be the only people staying in the hotel – not another car in sight, the only faces here are staff – and this is a LARGE complex!!! Who’s paying?
Back to the bar to have a sun-downer and use the wifi – there’s no gin for a G&T, so we have to fetch our own from the land rover: the wifi works only when the ‘internet man’ comes and changes out ISP addresses. We try to pay for the drinks to go in for supper – the barman doesn’t have change. The Steak House Restaurant at the Cattle Ranch doesn’t – guess what – doesn’t sell steak!!! Only chicken, curry and/or fish!
I think it may be time to go back and have a bath, hopefully hot, and relax to watch some TV - CNN is on, Mubarak has just resigned (according to the US) so we can catch up with the world.
So, we wake to the CNN news that Mubarak has NOT stepped down – is this serious disaster for the Middle East? And how will it affect the rest of Northern Africa? Feels like we’re sitting on a minefield.
The list of “things wrong” with this huge 5-star flagship of Nigerian Cross River State Tourism grows – we swung from no steak in the Steak House at the Cattle Ranch (despite a delightful waiter who did his absolute best to ensure we had a good meal) to no tea etc in the room – we have a kettle and cups, but nothing to put in them! I had salivated about a long soaking bath, and saved in for a first thing in the morning bath – only to discover that the plug didn’t fit so the water ran out almost as it filled – and the hot ran out before there was an inch on the bottom of the bath!!! Urghhh!
But it’s beautiful up here – cool morning mist shrouds the mountains, the air is fresh – what a pleasure after all the weeks of sweaty steamy heat. We used the kettle in the room and our own tea, sugar etc while watching CNN – prices a bit too expensive to go for breakfast. A big Star at the Sheraton Happy Hour cost 350niara, at the Dolphin night before last was 200 – here it was 500. Inflation because it has to come up the 11km of Intestine Road??
And as we’re sitting in the bar sorting out internet stuff, the management arrive, full of smiles and apologies – about the meal last night!! Which wasn’t the real hassle – but the FnB manager and the Chief Exec then spent some twenty minutes with us finding out exactly what the problems were that we’d picked up – and making immediate plans to sort them out. Makes you more hopeful about the future when you get that kind of sincere response to the grumbles! As the FnB manager said, it’s training, training, training! And as the receptionist is the first impression, she’s the most important person for the guest – be happy with her service, and most other things will be forgiven.
As we’ve experienced – we’ve stayed in some really crummy places, but the service provided has been so cheerful and so gracious that we’ve accepted everything negative or broken. A smile seriously does go a long way.
We’re offered a free breakfast; John orders a Nigerian b’fast with fried plantains, his favourite. But the plantains are out, none available. So he orders sauté potatoes – but when the b’fast arrives, those are also out! The restaurant staff are great; very cheerful, very obliging, a delight to deal with. And another lady comes across to greet us and ask about our night, ask us if there’s anything we’d like to do today – wants our card so she can keep in touch.
In actual fact, the problems boil down to a lack of service from the front desk, a lack of information about the activities or facilities available, a lack of attention to details in the room, all of which can be addressed easily. But need addressing. The FnB staff are great, the internet man Paul is fantastic.
You know what?
Even a tenth of the attention paid to us this morning if paid to us yesterday when we arrived would have made all the difference to our impressions about Obudu Cattle Ranch!
What a contrast! From upmarket 5-star facilities and billion-dollar road to the usual gravel disaster and home-made wooden chalets and outdoor showers and toilets! But what a difference in attitude too – warm welcomes, friendly inter-action, a passion for their environment and the animals they take care of!
After a 12 km negotiation of the tracks in, we passed the yellow Oasis truck tucked into the jungle canopy; Nicole and Andy came out to say hi, swatting sweat bees away frantically in the steamy humidity, and directed us on over another very precarious bridge that they could not take the truck over.
Our first impression of Afi Mountain Drill Ranch was of bananas and avocados – mountains of them! Food for the drills and chimps and gorillas, presumably! Majeed, the resident veterinarian and manager (and apparently the best doctor in the area!!) welcomed us, and explained the facilities – we decided to take a chalet, a delightful open airy wooden hut on stilts enclosed on all four sides with bug-screens. Cooking and eating is communal: they have gas hobs and a constant fire going, you provide all your own food. Which is great, because it gives you a chance to interact with the staff and volunteers after hours, and talk at length about what they’re doing.
And what are they doing? Well, basically trying to save the remaining bit of indigenous rain forest in Nigeria while at the same time creating an environment for the endangered Pandrills in order to re-introduce them into the wild, and rehabilitate chimps and gorillas that have been either rescued or confiscated or hurt. It’s a fascinating if back-breaking venture: at times heart-breaking. It’s an uphill battle against the local illegal hunters and loggers and crooked officials, and despite government support and encouragement, the red tape and corruption involved in all aspects is mind-blowing. Several (too many!) of the chimps that have been brought in to them are having to be housed in a small (very small) enclosure, because the material needed to build the new electric fence to increase the chimp enclosure from 1 hectare to 75 hectare is stuck in the USA – bought and paid for, they cannot clear through customs without enormous kickbacks and bribes which would quadruple the cost of the equipment. As the venture is run on a tight budget, this is just not possible!
We spent today sussing the drills in group 2 out, and visiting the chimps in the main enclosure. I had never seen a pandrill – the size of baboons, big black leathery face, like all primates, very social. Emmanuel, the keeper of group 2 (there are 6 groups, and each has a keeper) knows every single one of his 127 charges, by name and by personality and knows exactly where each sits in the hierarchy of the troop. It’s wonderful listening to him talk about them – he’s so passionate! Twice a day he (and the other keepers do the same in their groups) goes into the enclosure and makes notes on each drill – their behaviour, what they ate, any problems etc etc. He picks up immediately that one female is limping, but says it’s not an injury, perhaps she has just sprained her leg somehow. Previously he’s had to take out a female who fell out of her tree while sleeping and broke her leg – as the treetops where they sleep are approx 100ft high, she’s lucky it wasn’t her neck! So she’s currently in a plaster cast in the ‘medical centre’, getting increasingly bored at being confined in a little box! And in a bigger quarantine cage is a big adult male who came off worst in a skirmish with another adult – bad bites on his arm and hand have been cleaned, sutured and are almost mended. A few weeks ago Majeed had to perform his first ever dental surgery – another fight amongst stroppy males resulted in some of the huge canines being damaged. The operating theatre is an open-air shed – the power comes from solar panels which also power the 8-9 foot electric fence that surrounds the enclosures. All very basic, but they perform miracles with what they’ve got.
The chimps are a scream – because there are only 27 of them in the main enclosure, and because they act more as individuals, you’re inclined to pick up on their personalities more quickly. There’s Kingsley, an old grey guy who looks like he’s had polio, badly deformed limbs which slow him down and force him to make his night nest lower to the ground than normal. I never knew chimps made nests! It’s astounding to see these tiny little bundles of sticks way up there at the tops of the trees and realise that these huge animals sleep in them at night! One chimp to a nest, usually each in a different tree; unlike the drills, who sleep as a family group, scattered amongst the branches of the trees together. Then there’s Willie, a big black chimp who loves throwing things at you; he’ll sit quietly in the background, slowly and unobtrusively picking up stones or tufts of grass, hefting them in his hand for size and weight, and then when you least expect it, saunter over and lob it at you! And the young lady whose name I can’t remember, who was confiscated from a Yoruba family; she has learnt to greet you in the Yoruba way, by bowing low to the ground whenever she sees you! The big daddy of this group if Micky, a bruiser of a black chimp with massive shoulders and a neck that goes straight into them – he stalks into the area like an Italian Mafia hitman – you KNOW he’s trouble!
After only an afternoon here, I can understand why the volunteers keep coming back – it’s fascinating! Peter and Lisa who own/run the Drill are here some of the time, and spend the rest of their lives between Calabar and Limbe where they run similar projects – and spend their time negotiating with government, chasing illegal logging activites and fund-raising. Majeed is their very capable manager, and has a staff of dedicated local people, his keepers and the folks who sort out the food for the animals (those piles of avos and bananas and papayas etc are carefully weighed out each day, and wheelbarrow loads of food trundled in to the various groups three times a day!). Then they have a variety of volunteers who come for varying times and obviously do various jobs. As far I could ascertain in the unfortunately short time we were here, Dan (a smoke-jumper from Vancouver in his ‘real life’) is out for 2 months cutting back overhanging trees etc and clearing the jungle along the fence line – a very necessary task, as if a branch hangs over too far, it’s an easy task for these guys to make a break! It’s a pretty skilled job – these trees as I said are 100ft high, and many of the overhanging branches can be 3 m in diameter and 30ft long! He was out last year and did a survey for the new chimp project, where to place the fence for the new 75 hectare enclosure, and beginning to clear this area. Ryan is rebuilding and fixing some of the chalets; his history is of family farms and conservation in vast areas of Kenya, and his skills are multiple. His girlfriend Lindsay was a zoo-keeper in New York, and is taking care of all the sick –including a little potto (bushbaby) who had his ear and half his scalp taken off by a panga!). For obvious reasons he’s called Vincent! From little Lindsay has wanted to work with primates – has spent time in Zambia and South Africa, but is wanting to spend at least part of every year here in Afi. They each fund themselves for the time they are here, and are dedicated to the place. It’s fantastic to see it.
I keep thinking – how to help? Come and spend time here? Tell others about the work and the place? Send others here – Tracy and Francois – how about it???
The day started with excitement and ended with the same! Lying curled up in bed, we heard the radios crackle; “Doctor, doctor, chimp’s escaped!” “How many?” crackle crackle. “How many? How many?” “Don’t know, am looking.” “How’d he escape?” “Put a stick against the electric fence and climbed out.” “What kind of stick – dry or wet?” “Dry.” “Okay, I’m coming, be there now.”
By the time we’d got some clothes on and scampered down, the doc was off and running, blowpipe in hand armed with a tranquillising dart. We were told “Stay here!” We stayed – a chimp’s bigger than me! But within twenty minutes he was back – it was Willie, the rock-lobbing guy, who has learned that if he leans a dry branch against the electric fence he can scarper over without getting shocked, whereas a ‘wet’ one will give him a shock!! Not so stupid, these guys! Anyway, he was still hanging around near the fence, and as soon as he saw Majeed with the blowpipe, he spun up a tree on the outside and jumped back over the fence into the enclosure – he wasn’t having any of the blowpipe stuff! This is apparently a fairly regular occurrence with him, and the problem is that’s he now teaching the other chimps the trick too – wholescale breakout possible!!
Although talking to Dan, he says that the keepers are excellent: in the rainy season it’s not unusual for 60m or so of fenceline to be taken down when a tree falls over onto it, obviously allowing everyone to get out. But within a few hours, the keepers have managed to find and bring everyone back – no mean feat in this kind of impenetrable jungle – and dealing with guys who live in trees some 100ft above your head!
Brian (from the Oasis truck) had arranged with Peter one of the Drill Ranch’s local rangers, to go off with him and spend two nights out in the bush (he’ll meet the truck later at Ikom town down the road), and John wanted to charge the batteries, so he offered to take them both into the next village to pick up motorbikes to take off for the start of their hike. That unfortunately led to all sorts of drama and a potentially very nasty situation!!!
In the meantime I spent the morning with little Vincent and Goodluck, the cutest little baby gorilla – one of only 300 of his kind, a mix mountain/plains gorilla. About 2½ years old, Goodluck apparently wandered into a church service one Sunday morning and stood there quite happily joining in the clapping! Unfortunately once the congregation realised he was there, they took off!! Some brave soul then captured him and brought him to Afi, where they kept him for a while then released him back into the wild. But he made his way straight down the mountain again, back to the ranger’s house, where he was caught in a snare. It would seem that he’s been someone’s “pet” at some stage, as he’s quite happy around humans. But as they do want to release him back into the wild at some stage, Tony his keeper takes him out every day, spending the whole day in the rain forest with him, making him forage and get accustomed to being out in the bush. He’s too cute though – he took to Huggy like a duck to water: at one stage I thought we’d lost Huggy!!!
Anyway, 3 hours after John had left with these guys, I was getting seriously worried. It was a fifteen minute trip to the village – what was happening? Dan and Emmanuel decided to go see if they could find him, assuming car problems or something. They made the assumption that Peter had convinced him to take them on further on, to Boje, the village where they were supposed to have taken bikes to; but even that shouldn’t have taken that long! Anyway, within the hour they were all back – with quite a story.
It appears that Peter DID convince John to take them all to Boje – a 90 minute trip on a horrific track – and along the way they’d heard chainsaws going. Peter insisted they stop, leapt out and charged into the bush, followed by Brian with his big camera (did I tell you he was a commercial fisherman/photographer from Alaska, ex pro-basketball player??). Chainsaws stopped, much yelling and shouting, John hearing things were getting very heated, got out of the land rover and walked the 30m or so into the jungle to see what was going on. All hell had broken loose!
These were illegal loggers, who had felled an enormous tree and were now cutting it into planks, in situ, with a chainsaw. Peter had challenged them (initially only 3 men), but when Brian started to take photographs the whole thing escalated into 10 guys appearing out of the jungle, brandishing machetes and chainsaws! They demanded his camera, threatened murder and mayhem; by the time John stepped into it, it was very ugly indeed. Fortunately some other (more peaceful??) villagers arrived, attracted by all the noise, as did an off-duty policeman, and the thing devolved down into a demand for 10 000niara for the return of Brian’s camera. He eventually got away with deleting all the photos he’d taken and no charge – very lucky.
Peter insisted that another man from his village drive back with John after dropping them, but by the time they got back, the loggers had disappeared. A report then had to be made back to Lisa in Calabar, who was going to take things further with the Forestry and Logging authorities. It could have been really nasty – Dan said it was the first time the guys had got so aggressive – but then you are dealing with a potential 1million niara sale of the timber – that’s seriously big money here! The expectation was that they would have simply gone back later that night to finish the job – they pay off the police, the forestry commission checkpoints; it’s all very shady.
After lunch and a good cuppa, we took off for the Canopy Walk – developed and built by the same guys who did the one in Vancouver, but maintained by local Nigerians. Enough said! 10 platforms, 100ft or so up in the air, very narrow walkways, with rope sides that are frayed and tattered – let’s just say it wasn’t my happiest experience!! As the Nigerian said in Abuja, Nigerians have a “lack of maintenance culture” – and it showed! But it was a good swim in the pool at the top, although I must have brushed through something that affected me, as my arms have been on fire ever since!!
Life in the jungle, what can I say?
A sad goodbye to Vincent theone-eared scalped potto and Goodluck the baby chimp who claps along with the congregation - I could get to love this place!
Started the day with a problem – as so often happens! With all the bad tracks etc yesterday, we have a clutch fluid problem in the land rover and John thought it might be the master cylinder leaking. Phone call to Tom back in Abuja to please buy us a replacement, and another phone call to Ebaye (Majeed’s ‘landie man’ in Ikom) to see if he could help. He simply said ‘bring it in’, so after a morning spent with the drills and chimps again – and getting a full facial of chimp shite because I didn’t duck in time – we took off for Ikom, the town just before the Cameroon border.
Ebaye led us to his garage – boy oh boy, talk about land rover heaven – or retirement village! Dozens of seemingly derelict land rovers clutter the grounds – until you look more closely and see that this one’s engine’s being worked on, this one’s carburettor’s on the floor in pieces, this one’s drive shaft is lying on a piece of rag in bits – and what can’t be fixed is being used as scrap parts!!
Needless to say, our fairly clean overland land rover elicits major excitement: ten or so hangers-on rush over to inspect and ooh and ah, and while John and Ebaye get down to basics of what’s wrong with the vehicle, I’m giving a half-hour run down on what’s what and how it works! I’m not sure which created the most interest; the tent “it’s bigger than my room at home!”, the fridge – just shrieks and shouts and astonishment, or the GPS – “oh, I need one like that!” As to driving London to Johannesburg – well, that was just a bit beyond their comprehension – or desire. When I asked if they’d been to Afi Mountain – only 60 something kms away – there was astounded “where? Too far!” So I guess Joburg’s off the map – although they did know it was where the World Cup was, so that’s something.
Anyway, an hour later, John and Ebaye take her out on a test drive and all’s well! I do love these bush mechanics – why do we whiteys keep insisting on “the real thing”?? 2000 niara later, all is fine and dandy, no hassles whatsoever. And on a Sunday too – John was so impressed he gave him 3000!!
The next decision was; do we stay in Ikom tonight, or go through the border to Cameroon now? As it was only 3pm and the border was only 20kms or so away, we decided to do the latter. Good tar road, the border shack appears and out we jump. NO, this is the “unofficial” immigration check, the real one is another 15kms further. Well, they have to give guys jobs, don’t they? The real border seems simple initially – the carnet’s stamped with no hassle by a friendly enough guy, then it’s off to Immigration. Reams of forms to fill in, John’s passport’s stamped with a Nigerian exit – and things grind to a halt with mine. “Where’s your visa?” I get asked. In this passport, I answer, handing over the UK one. “Where’s the entrance stamp?” In this one, I reply, handing over the SA one. It passes the first lady (there are 3 people in this cramped steamy little office – an old guy who’s busy ‘negotiating’ shadily with someone, lotsa notes passing hands, a pleasant enough but obviously junior woman, and an aggro guy with his feet on the desk who’s already chased 2 people out of the office. It’s Mr Aggro I’m now dealing with. He goes through both passports again, takes 10 minutes, then slaps them down and says “I can’t stamp these.” “Why?” asks John “my wife’s done nothing illegal. It was your immigration guys who made the mess in the first place.” Oops – Mr Aggro’s hair stands on end, his feet come down off the desk and he glares. I think ‘that’s it, I’m cooked’. Then John goes on to say 2every other immigration official we’ve been stopped by has accepted photocopies of both passports and that’s that.”
Face-saver! Mr Aggro asks for the photocopies, which we cheerfully hand over. “But I need copies of the front pages and the visa and the entry stamps,” he snarls. These we don’t have. And it’s Sunday, no-one here has a photocopy facility open. I have visions of sleeping at the border tonight as John goes into Cameroon (because of course both he and the vehicle are now legally OUT of Nigeria!) to get copies. Then Aggro yells, and a camp local in a tight white t-shirt and ball-bulging chinos prances in. It’s like a French farce. “Go back to barracks!” yells Aggro. “Oh sir, but I didn’t do...” “Make copies of these!” hands him the two passports. “Oh certainly sir,” he minces out, obviously relieved at not being chewed out for whatever it was that he wasn’t doing!
Twenty minutes later he’s back – another ten minutes while Aggro stares at all the photocopies, puts them into relevant little piles, stares at them again, staples them together – then hands my my passports back and says “Go! Go!” “Exit stamps?” I ask gingerly. “GO!” I go. Over the bridge, out of Nigeria and into Cameroon, on the double!! Who needs a flipping exit stamp anyway! And as John says, I could – if I wanted to – now enter Nigeria again, as my British passport has neither entrance or exit stamp in it, therefore the visa has not been used!!!!
Cameroon also has an “unofficial” border post where all our details are written down on a scrap of loose paper which I’m sure is thrown away as soon as we leave, and then we drive another 4kms to the “real” border. Carnet’s stamped with no fuss, we’re in another Immigration office with 3 officials: a guy who sits looking out the window singing along to the radio, a huge burly policewoman that you really don’t want to mess with, and a fairly innocuous looking gent in the corner. Policewoman glances at our passports, notes down the numbers, passes them the the gent, who writes down all the details in a big ledger while policewoman lays into a man who’s just arrived, accusing him of telling lies about her police beating up his customers. Things are getting very heated, and the gent in the corner’s obviously embarrassed at what we’re witnessing, so within seconds all is stamped and we’re shepherded out. Sometimes things go well in Africa!!
It’s now almost 6pm, so we find an track some 10kms down the road and pull off into the jungle for the night! Our first night in Cameroon – 11th country!
Slow start to the day as we mellowed in the unexpected cool of the morning – the village headman came past on his bike, stopped and had a good morning chat – as did a lot of other workers en route to the fields - very friendly folks. And no-one asked for anything!
Then it was off to tackle the dreaded Ekok – Mamfe road: stories abound of truck-size holes and being stuck for 11 days, so it was with fear and trepidation that we took off. Within minutes I was giving thanks for the fact that it hasn’t rained yet! These are not holes – they’re far holier than holes!! However, lunatic petrol smugglers in little skedonk sedan cars, loaded to the hilt with plastic cans full of petrol from Nigeria, keep tearing past us, hitting the holes at speed or weaving frantically across the obstacle course of a road, laughing like hyena at us plodding along in our big 4x4, creeping over each donga and inching down each ditch!! We reach Mamfe by lunchtime – 3 hours to do the 62-plus kms, but we made it!
Everyone has raved about Cameroon food, so we decide to try some – took some finding, as most places serve meals in the evenings and only the bars seem to be open now, but we eventually are sitting in front of a plate of fried plantains (delicious), stew (like a very spicy gravy) and chicken – a huge roasted leg, tasty but I think it must have been turkey – too big for chicken! Nice, but nothing to write home about – but we sat in a lovely breeze, everyone’s preparing for Valentine’s Day, so there’s a great vibe in the streets. Guess what – 6 years ago today we got engaged in St Thomas, USVI – lots of water under the bridge since then!!
Then it was off towards the coast and Mount Cameroon – we’re told the back road which we would have taken is not on as the bridges are ‘broke’, so we’re sent off on a back-back road. In-ter-est-ing!! I’m driving, and fortunately there’s very little traffic. Fortunately, because most of the time there’s very little road too!! Narrow bridges cross innumerable streams, negotiated by placing the front wheels on two planks and carefully driving across – well, that’s the way we do it! The lunatic petrol smugglers come screaming down the hill on the other side, slipping and sliding in the sand and ruts, make a wild swing to aim the vehicle at the planks – and charge across, planks flying in all directions! Oi vey!
John would like to stop – have a swim in one of the big rivers we cross – but I’m edgy – there are huge black rain clouds up there and I’m nervous about being caught on this back-back road after rain! So we push on to join up with the ‘back road’ at Ngati. As it is, once we join this road, it’s even worse than the previous one! Trucks seriously could disappear down these holes – in fact, we sms the Oasis truck to say ‘make sure you have waffle boards as you’re going to need them to cross!’
By 5pm we’ve both had enough – I have some sort of prickly heat rash which has now escalated into an all-over itch and I’m not sure where to scratch first! We’re both sweating gallons – I eventually roll a towel up behind me in the base of my back, and it’s saturated within minutes. The rain forest has been dense all day – absolutely fabulous, huge-leafed bushes towering up to meet the incredibly tall canopy trees, everything a thick gorgeous green – but all very close to the road, with no pull-offs at all. Then we see a track, and do a wheelie off to the right – up a few hundred yards and there’s a little gap in the side, so we pull Lavinia off the track and park. Have just sat down with a cuppa, when I say to John ‘what’s that weird noise?’ ‘Airplane overhead,’ he says. But it goes on for several minutes, and I suddenly recognise it from my childhood N. Rhodesia days – it’s the sound of raindrops advancing through the trees, pounding the leaves!! We frantically put up the tent, pack everything away, and dive into the vehicle just as the first drops hit. But it’s only a short sharp shower, barely enough to wet the ground before it drifts off west. Damn – I was looking forward to it cooling things down – although then again, I don’t really want it filling up the holes in the road!!
Once again workers stream past on their way home from the fields – all very polite, but one scams us for ‘taxi money – he’s very tired.’ We only have a 2000CFA note (we’re into Central African CFAs here!) and he only needs 500, but he promises to bring us the change tomorrow morning. Yeah??? Anyway, he does convince us this isn’t a good place to stay – ‘lots of tiefs ‘roun here’, so we decide to carry on up the road and ask the local village headman if we can park in his village.
The track disintegrates fast – but before we’ve gone too far, an lder gent on a motorbike passes, stops to chat, and invites us back to his village to sleep in his field! So back we go to Manyamen, a small village we passed through just 2kms back – and park in the soccer field behind his house! All safe and secure, if something of a novelty to the villagers walking home!
Still, it’s a lovely cool night again – a goodly breeze blowing so we can leave the mozzie nets open for a large part of the night, and we’re not disturbed at all by those tiefs!
Up early to vacate the soccer field – bit difficult to do your morning ablutions with half a village looking on – and back to our first stop of last night for breakfast etc. And to see if our ‘tired man’ of last night will return. Wonder of wonders he does – with a big story about how when he got home his mother was very sick so he used the change to buy her medicine! Jawellnofine – came out of a brown bottle and frothed when poured, I guess!
The road continues in much the same way as yesterday, with the addition of water and mud in the bottom of the holes. And of course with the bottom covered, you actually have no idea how deep the holes are! We were inching very carefully towards one – one side was a huge hole scooped down about 5-6 feet deep, the other side was a series of smaller, sharper, deeper holes with tracks where the motorbikes had scooted across narrow gaps. We opted for the bigger hole, thinking that was our best option – when another sedan car came rushing down the road, hooting and tooting at us and waving at us to ‘go other way, other way!’ He weaved and bobbed across the holes at speed, so we decided to do the same – slowly!!! It’s an education – these guys could give the Stig a run for his money!
The surroundings are still dense rain-forest, wonderful scenery. Huge clumps of bamboo bending down over the road, massive great trees bursting out of the top of the thick greenery – reeds infested with hundreds of weaver nests, little black birds, very busy. Lots of yellow-billed kites swoop and glide over the road – I think they’ve learnt that it’s easier to see prey along the road than in the dense jungle. The villages pop out of the jungle, neatly cleared yards around neatly kept wooden shacks or brick houses, box hedges and flowering shrubs dot the gardens and big shady trees flood the property. Delightful.
Obviously very few private cars, certainly here in the rural areas, as evidenced by the fact that the entrances to homes by single plank are across ditches each side of the road – no driveways here! And I have to be honest and say I have never ever seen such battered broken down vehicles in my life! The bodywork looks like its survived hundreds of stock-car races, but the engines cook – and they scream down the tracks at a great rate of knots!
Although the people are different here in Cameroon – I can’t make up my mind whether they’re unfriendly or just uninterested in tourists. The kids yell ‘white man, white man!’ whenever we pass, as do some of the adults, and I can’t work out whether this is an epithet or an endearment! They’re certainly not aggressive in any way, just unsmiling to a large extent when you pass by. They’re shorter and squatter than the locals we’ve met so far – pygmy connections?
Just outside Kumba we decide to make a detour for lunch at the Lake Mbo – a volcanic crater lake some 5kms out of town. A very suspicious guard refuses to drop his piece of string across the track until we’ve told him in detail what we’re planning to do there – what was he expecting??? Then it’s a road genuinely from hell. The 5kms take 40 mins – but the result is worth it, a large round lake sitting serenely ensconced in palm trees and thick jungle. Wonderful. We’re the only people there for a few minutes, then another couple arrive in a ‘taxi’ – they walk around a bit, then take off, and the water proves irresistible - we take a skinny dip and soap ourselves up in the warm water – the longest time we’ve spent in water since leaving the UK!! Did I say the drive was worth it??
And just outside Kumba (a big bustling town) we hit a genuine tar road – white lines, white dotted lines, red & white barriers, road signs – in fact there’s so much information suddenly it’s disorientating! That lasts, unbelievably, all the way to Buea, at the base of Mount Cameroon and home for a couple of days.
We wind our way up and up the hillside, until we’re 1000ft up – the air’s cooler, the houses are bigger, the mist is closing in as we pick a spot on the green green grass of the Presbyterian Synod Office Guest House camp ground (actually just a piece of grass next to their guest house, but who’s complaining!). Jimmy welcomes us, shows us the facilities, gives us a key to the back door so we can use the toilets etc after hours, the laundry gets taken off by a lovely lady in a beautiful gown – who then proceeds to hand wash it all, along with sheets and bedding from perhaps 6 beds!!! We cook a pasta dinner in their equipped kitchen, watch the BBC news to discover Mubarak HAS resigned eventually, then crash.
I am itching and scratching worse than a dog with fleas – an ice-cold shower helps for a while, cream helps for a while, but I can feel it’s going to be a most uncomfortable – if cool – night.
Sitting camped on the side of Mount Cameroon - dinner's calling! More tomorrow.
I couldn't stand it a second longer - this scratching business is driving me nuts and irritating John beyond belief. My body is on fire, I feel as if there are ants scurrying up and down my legs, in my hair, under my armpits - okay I'm sure you get the picture!! Jimmy the manager here refers me to the clinic on site, and after a cup of coffee and a chat to one of the teachers of the junior school where the kids are singing away at devotions, who invites me to come meet them all and "listen to the angels sing", I take off down the hill to a little office to meet the Sister there. I thought it was just a pharmacy, but it turns out I have to register as a patient and get a diagnosis. Well that is, tell her what I think is wrong, and she'll then prescribe. She listens to my story, nods gravely. "It's the Nigerians," she says. "They have bad weather." Well, I know they get blamed for a lot, but I'm not sure they can actually take the credit for controlling that!
"You need an I.V," she continues and I blanch. The thought of needles in my arm in an African country brings on an immediate fear - horror stories abound. But she brings out a very smart sterilised sealed needle pack, along with a sterilised seal bottle and proceeds to do a very efficient injection of some Doxa stuff, apparently an anti-histamine. I then get handed a packet of 30 tablets - 6 a day for 5 days - and a tube of cream. And get charged the princely sum of 3750CFAs - about £9 - for the whole affair, including consultation!!
An ice-cold shower later (I'm sure they pipe this straight down from the top of the mountain, it's stingingly cold) and a good cream rub, the first pills down, and I will be sitting in the lounge of the Presby Synod Guest House, in a cool breeze, using their internet and planning to spend the rest of the day here!
After some morning maintenence (replacing the interior light bulb that;s fused and unfortunately fusing everything else - what do they say about one job leading to another??) John's off exploring - as a typical mad Englishman, he takes off in the heat of the day to go find a market, a determined search for plantains being the driving force. He's taken to them like a duck to water - slices them finely and fries them in olive oil - I have to say they're good! He gets back about two hours later looking amazingly fresh for a walk up the hill - but then I find he caught a taxi back - and licking his lips - he stopped for a chicken brochette dipped in peanut butter sauce on the way! And here I was eating packet noodles!! Damn.
We've arranged to meet Daniel Ojong this evening, a Cameroonian author I worked with some 18 months back, who lives here in Buea. Daniel wrote a delightful series of stories about the village he grew up in, touching on supernatural beliefs mixed in with everyday life - a great read, now published under the Africa Series by Heinemann. So the rest of the afternoon is spent editing (and exploring in John's case), until sun-downer time out on the grass next to Lavinia. Another couple came in latish last night, Barbara and Adam, he's Polish, she's a Brit, and they've been travelling from Poland down the East Coast to Cape Town (through Egypt, Sudan etc) now on their way up the West Coast back to Poland. So we sta and swapped stories and compared maps and picked each other's brains about the next ports of call - nice to meet someone who's already recently done what you're still going to be doing! They're trying to get their Nigerian visas here, so might be here for a while!
Danile, his wife Elise and friend Thomas arrived about 7pm, and took us down to a local restaurant for a fish and plantains dinner - John's getting his fill! It was a great meal - a whole fish each, baked/roasted/grilled whole, absolutely delicious. John and I both avoided the head, which caused comments. "Hmm," says Danile, "It's just as well you didn't eat the head. Our tradition says if you do that, you never leave Cameroon!" But it turned out Elise was a 'fish-head eater' of note, and she claimed ours and Danile's and picked them completely clean - I was astounded!
It was wonderful meeting Daniel, and getting some insight into life here in Cameroon and the pleasures and pains this all involves. We talk extensively about the problems of getting his books back into Cameroon - I need to make contact with Heinemann and see what the hassle is - and about all the other ideas he has bubbling away in his brain to write - needs to get working! But of course we then get into the potential for investment in Cameroon, and he talks about his 2500 hectare of virgin forest just sitting waiting for investors to approriate - the timber, bee-keeping, fish-farms, agriculture, the possibilities are endless. When I question him about the corruption and red-tape and bureaucracy, he's quick to admit it's here. "But not so bad," he says. It would be interesting to explore. But not now.
We're back just after 9pm, and the Presbyterian Secondary School Hostel (just below us) is still heaving with noise and the clamour of 300-odd boys showering (many just out in the open from a bucket!!) and supposedly getting ready for bed. There's obviously very little "Lights Out" control here - the noise doesn't abate until well after 11pm, and it was the same the night before! As the first ones are awake again by just after 5am to take "first shower", it's a short night!! 1000 kids at this mixed boarding school, the girls' section must be on the other side of the school buildings because we don't see them except for in the classrooms or quad during break, and I'm assuming there must be day-scholars as well. All very polite kids - there's a nightly stream of older ones coming up the hill to trek past Lavinia at about 6pm to fetch water for their showers down below - not sure where the water comes from - maybe taps down at the main Synod buildings? Seems strange, but it's obviously the system.
So, lights out for us now - and thank God, I am definitely not scratching as much!!
The availability of a good internet service has meant that I've spent a lot of time catching up on things - correspondence, emails, blogs, life back in S. Africa where things suddenly escalate to the "have to be attanded to NOW" state - it's been great. John on the other hand has done some village-hopping, finding stocks like plantains and bananas and even peanuts - which come in an old whiskey bottle!!
And of course sorting out the necessities like vehicle insurance for the next stage - we are now out of the ECOWAS cover of the carte bruin (from Mauritania to Nigeria) and are now in the CEMAC countries, which means we need the carte rose to cover Cameroon, Gabon and the Congos. Always something else! Anyway, Jim here took John down to the insurance office where they arranged everything, he paid, then they discovered they didn't have the forms and had to send to Limbe for them! That was yesterday, and we are still here today, waiting for them to arrive. What can I say? This is Africa!
We had a delightful experience this morning, visiting the little primary school just behind us. I have heard them singing every morning, and was standing watching the other day when we got invited to meet them at devotions. Today was the day, which meant getting dressed up in our best (long trousers for John, black slacks and fancy shirt for me!) and spending the devotional 30 mins with the 170 kids at school there. It was such fun! Several of the kids had bombarded me yesterday, pleading to be allowed to climb into the tent and see "the house" - it was quite a battle to get them out again, I can tell you. In fact, I wasn't sure if we'd have a couple of extras sleeping over last night!!
Sally, the head teacher, introduced us, then I chatted to them about our "big adventure" and tried to get them to understand what an adventure is - they venture out of their home each day to walk to school, but need to "add" to that by exploring the world around them - noticing the butterfly, the big black insect, seeing that the sun was shining on the mountain today, finding out about the world - going to Limbe to see the gorillas - and one day maybe driving to South Africa too! They chanted back to me, class by class, "Every Day is a New Adventure." Hopefully it'll stick in someone's mind!
My son-in-law Francois sent a great saying this morning: "Life's not about waiting for the storms to pass...it's about learning to dance in the rain." Love it!
So today's a not-sure day - if the insurance stuff arrives early enough, if I've managed to resolve several issues in SA and get responses from several outstanding edit questions by lunchtime, we may take off for Limbe, down at the coast.
If not, we'll be here another day! Watch this space, as they say.
Several folk have contacted us and we have either lost/mislaid or don’t have your email address – please email to me at jennyjen@netactive.co.za, as I’d love to respond personally! When you put a message on the getjealous message board, I don’t get your address from it!
Thanks!
Jenny
We took off midday for Limbe, only 36kms away, but down on the coast rather than 1000ft up in the mountains – and boy, did we feel it immediately. The heat and humidity grew as we drove down into the rain forest vegetation again, and by the time we arrived we were both sweating copiously again!
Choices in Limbe seem to be either at the Botanical Gardens (rather, behind the Botanical Gardens which are supposedly one of the best in West Africa), or else out at 6 Mile Beach which is apparently somewhat unsafe. As it’s also out of town, we opt for the Miramar camp. The yellow Oasis truck was there too – great to catch up with them all again! Some were missing, having “jumped ship” in Calabar and caught the ferry across to Limbe earlier – they had booked into hotels and were mellowing out in “luxury”.
First impressions of Miramar were not good – the only place to park was in the blazing sun, no shade, they charged 5000 CFAs per person per night as against 1000 in Buea, and the toilet facilities were atrocious! John stormed in to the manager, a slim elegant Frenchwoman who spoke no English, and tried frantically to tell her the toilets were a sh---le in French – but this wasn’t one of the words covered in Patricia’s crash course of words needed on the trip! But I think she got the message, because within two hours they had been cleaned up – still not fantastic, but compared with some of what we’ve seen, certainly adequate!
Anyway, unhappy with the vibe generally, we decided not to eat there, and wandered over to the Wildlife Centre instead, where Nicole said they did a great pizza. Actually when we got there, a South African voice welcomed us – Erica and her partner Ryan were eating fillet steak, and that did it for me!! So, two fillet steaks with haloumi salad later, we were enjoying a delightful evening with this young couple: she’s an Afrikaans “poppie”, he’s a Cameroonian, have both been very successful business people in Johannesburg and now decided to return to his home country to try to start something good here – as Ryan says, to try to create an awareness of good business practices (sans the inevitable under-the-counter dealings so prevalent in Africa!). But they’re finding it very hard: culturally Ryan says he’s seen as “a small man” still, not an elder to be respected! In admire their fortitude.
Back at the camp, John had a quick dip in the pool to cool off – I should have done the same, because by 3.30am I was steaming!! You know you’re hot when you look at your arms in the moonlight and there’s a just a wet sheen covering them! Unable to bear it any longer, I got up, wrapped myself in a kikoi, and wet and sat with my legs in the pool. Bliss! I was just about to strip off and jump in when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye – the two security gaurds were ‘resting’ in the loungers next to the pool. They’d have been a bit surprised to see this pale blobby white mass hit the water!!
Saturday was an ‘explore town’ day – we found the ATM – once again you cannot use Mastercard anywhere in Limbe, it’s Visa access only. Found the bookstore, hoping to get a travel guide – our Rough and Lonely Planets both run out here in Cameroon, so the rest is unknown territory! But they had only a very limited number of schoolbooks, nothing of any use at all. Then found the pharmacy to get some more re-hydrate sachets and also another tube of anti-biotic cream – John’ starting to scratch too now. So far no real mozzie problems, but lots and lots of irritating little midges to drive you mad. Barbara and Adam (the Polish couple we met in Buea) have given us the name of a Chinese herbal remedy that you make up into a daily tea as an anti-malarial – we’ll get some in Yaounde as a back-up to our homeopathic stuff. Prevention is definitely better than cure – have been with several folks who’ve gone down with malaria on the trip, and it’s really not fun.
Back at the Miramar we found Andrew and Claudia had just pulled in to find us – great to see them! They’d managed with some hard driving to make their deadline to join their friends and climb Mt Cameroon, then spent the next few days out at Mile 11 and Mile 8 beaches, chilling out and recuperating. They’re off to Yaounde tomorrow, to get their final visas, and have agreed to take Vickie, the young Canadian form the Oasis truck, who still needs a visa for Gabon. She’s delighted – gets to travel in the safety of an air-conditioned Toyota instead of a local bus!! We’ll meet u with them again in Yaounde or at Kribi, en route to Gabon.
Wandered over to the Wildlife Centre for lunch, where we found Mark and Emma holding court – they had been there since 9am, and were planning to spent the rest of the day there, I think! Half the Oasis crowd pulled in at one stage or another, then the AfriTrails crowd arrived – Erica and Ryan were rushed off their feet! We did a walk through the Centre to see the animals, and I was very glad we’d seen them in the wild at Afi Mountain! Same “owners/conservators” but this is a zoo, and not really a great one at that. Too many animals in enclosures that are too small, no vegetation, just man-made climbing apparatus out in the blazing heat – not a good sight to see all these magnificent beings sitting, just like totally bored humans, stifling in this scenario. But they’re all captured or rescued and damaged animals, so I guess it’s better than being dead or caged behind someone’s shack???
Back at the Miramar we simply mellowed: there’s something really good about a G&T in front of the land rover, sitting watching the sea pound away against the little islands just offshore. It’s humid, but there’s a nice breeze off the sea, and we could certainly be in a worse place! The pool is full of little local kids this afternoon, splashing away and having a ball, but they’re all gone by 6pm and we have the place pretty much to ourselves. We chat with the Oasis guys as they walk past back and forth to the toilets etc, and catch up on all the ‘skinner’. There’s melt-down with some of the folks aboard: it’s that time in the trip, Andy says, when people’s tempers flare – the heat, the humidity, the being with a crowd of strangers 24/7 in very trying circumstances just all combine together and there have been some altercations. But Andy and Grant are seriously very good leaders – do a lot of listening and advising, but also take ‘no crap’! “I’ll help you pack your bags,” Grant tells one stroppy character!
We have discovered/decided that the Nigerians were very definitely short-changing us on diesel: the consumption went down dramatically in Nigeria and it would appear the problem may be that they have fixed their pumps – while it may read that you have put 50 litres in, in actual fact you’ve only been given 40! As we never run the tank dry, it’s very difficult to prove, but that’s what it appears to be. Chief scammers in the world, the Nigerians! Grant, the Oasis driver, was caught by the same sort of ‘changing the price’ scam they tried on us, and he apparently let rip! “Are you a Christian?” he yells at her when she tries the scam of raising the price between quoting and filling. “Yes,” she replies. “Well, you’ll be going to hell!” he yells, “And what’s more, I’ll be seeing you there!” She charged him the original quoted price – it was obviously a scary thought, seeing him in hell one day!
So, figures and statistics to date – I know this is John’s baby, so I’m just borrowing his brain here!
Today, 20 Feb, we are on Day 107 of a 150 day plan, country 11 of 17, London to Johannesburg. We have covered 15882kms of a potential 24 000kms, it has cost us between £83 - £88 a day (all found, vehicle running and maintenance included), and we’ve gone from freezing our butts off in Spain and Morocco to sweating gallons in Nigeria and Cameroon! From sleeping under a down duvet – to not being able to bear a single sheet covering! We have camped for 70 of those nights, spent 36 in rooms (skewed slightly by the time spent in the luxury of Max’s apartment in Ghana).
Have moved from Arab North Africa with all its hassles to Black West Africa with all its hassles – different people, different hassles, same corruption! From well-maintained infra-structure to non-existent and/or derelict infrastructure, where what was left by the colonialists has and is just disintegrating and decaying slowly back into the jungle. But where everyone is scrabbling for a survival living, and sees the future only in terms of how to get foreigners to invest in one of their schemes.
We drove 1756kms through Spain, 4400kms through Morocco (24 days), 760kms through Mauritania, 1206kms through Senegal (8 days), 2725kms through Mali (18 days), 470kms through Burkina Faso, 1858kms through Ghana (13 days), 57kms through Togo and 350kms through Benin, 1787kms through Nigeria (13 days) and the count’s still out on Cameroon! The Ghana and Nigeria time was spent largely in waiting for visas – a painful waste of time, and similarly apart from the days spent at the Zebrabar, the time in Senegal was a frustration of red tape relating to getting our carnet stamped.
Where would I personally like to go back to? Morocco (despite all my initial hang-ups!), Mauritania to explore the country and the desert further, Mali, Burkina Faso. Senegal just gave us bad vibes, Togo and Benin are just too small to seem separate, Ghana and Nigeria I definitely have no wish to return to except for the Afi Mountain Drill Ranch on a project!
What has been the most daunting? The toilet facilities!! From filthy places in Morocco to filthy places in W. Africa, my day has been made when we arrive at somewhere that has an even partly clean toilet! The cold showers I can live with, but to have to step on all sorts of – pardon the language – crap to use the facilities be they eastern style, western style or long-drop in the jungle: well, just not my scene. Rather take my spade and find a bush!
What has been the most outstanding? The incredible local people we have met, the inter-action even with corrupt and frustrating officials, being able to laugh at the idiosyncracies of whatever country we’re in, sussing out the cultural differences as we travel south – it has been a huge learning curve for me – and I’m an African!
Long may it last!!
Left Miramar this morning and drove out south to see the renowned lava beaches – found a great little campsite at about 11 mile, called T.. Beach – hotel on one side of the road, small grassed parking area with basic toilets and beach shower, and lovely lava beach – deserted. Looked wonderful! Maybe next time!
Then stopped to say ciao to Ryan and Erica, and make sure we had their contact details etc in Jozi – be good to meet up with them there.
Then we hit the road again! Time to move on.
Beautiful big tar road, not too busy: I kept waiting for something to end!! Douala was a bit of a nightmare - hectic, frenetic , crazy drivers and roads that seem to go nowhere that you expected them to – but we got out of there without too much hassle and were soon back trailing through the rain forest again. Lots of plantations – bananas, palms for palm oil, palms for palm wine, more bananas, then long stretches of trees I didn’t recognise – too thin and skinny for timber or pulp – nuts of some sort??
We stopped along the road for some roasted chicken at a roadside stall – delicious! And quite a vibe with all the other taxi-brusse passengers hustling as well. Then suddenly the first rain of the trip (serious rain that is!) The road steamed – huge clouds of warm air rising to meet the gusts of rain pounding down – quite a sight! Lavinia’s wipers were working overtime, but she coped very well. All the way into Yaounde.
Another slightly frenetic city – following Jeepers through another city at peak hour, we land up down some narrow little alleyway with a decrepit green truck stuck across the road offloading timber, jamming the road on one side, while two opposing taxi-drivers glare stone-faced at each other, each refusing to give way and let the other through the small gap remaining. Which of course meant we all sat twiddling out thumbs too! Eventually John got and and shouted at the big green truck to move his arse – and with a great flurry and grinding of gears and spinning of wheels, he did, clearing the logjam!
The city was gridlocked – I’ve never seen so many vehicles – taxis, cars, 4x4s, trucks – all jammed together any old which way in the middle of an intersection. No-one moving! One lone policeman sort of ineffectually waving his arms around, making not one scrap of difference, everyone inching along, squeezing a car in where a car really can’t fit! The occasional bump that caused another mini-drama as drivers jump out and yell at each other – lots of time to do that as we’re not going anywhere!! We inch forward, vehicles do actually move, and within 40 mins we’re out of the intersection – into another one! But this one’s not quite as bad, and it only takes us 20 mins to clear. Presumably this is a daily occurrence? You’d think they’d have some pointsmen up here by this time, wouldn’t you?? But I guess they think if they ignore it long enough, it WILL go away!
Anyway, by dint of asking around, we find the Presbyterian Mission Guest House – well, if there’s ever been a misnomer, that’s it! House it is, big green lawns in front of it, but guest and mission it certainly isn’t. Madame (local Cameroonian) storms out and yells at us in French to park somewhere else, skinny Monsieur (white-bearded French with little eyes) wants us to pay immediately! It’s been raining all after noon, everything’s sodden, it’s getting dark – so decided the unwelcome and the fact that there are already two overland trucks (probably 50 people) camping here, we decide to stay. Ask to see a room. And are taken into the most fleabag room I’ve seen on this trip – filthy stained mattress bare on one ¾ bed, scruffy white sheet covering a double. Rags hanging haphazardly as curtains – and he wants 8000CFA for it, payable with 3 nights deposit! We ask to see the facilities, and he shows us THE only toilet/shower for both inside and outside – toilet’s broken, has no door, shower’s very dirty – in fact, everything is dirty. Not daily walk-in mud/damp dirt, but years in ingrained filth! We’re told we have to pay 200CFAs for a bucket of water, 300CFAs an hour to use a power point, and the house gets locked between 8pm and 6am “for their own use”!!! No walking around without a shirt on, especially the boys (does he have a problem with boys or what???) no noise after 10pm, the “bar” (a Mersk container ) closes at 9pm – it’s like being at school again!
Anyway, we decided to camp – at least I know we won’t get bedbugs or some other horrid disease from our own stuff! So now we’re relegated to the outside toilet – one derelict hole with no running water for 50-something people! The overlanders save their washing-up water to use to flush the toilets – my God, I thought I’d seen it all. Unbelievable that it can be allowed. But unfortunately it’s the only place in town for folks like the overlanders – we’ll be moving on to the Catholics tomorrow, I think!!
Dinner in the drizzle under our awning, a last pee before lock-down, and we’re in bed by 9pm because it’s actually cold up here!
I was up just after 7.30 to use the inside toilet – the outside one is now not a welcoming sight at all – only to be locked out by Monsieur, so told him politely to Fuck Off – I think he was so startled he wasn’t able to react!
On the incoming emails last night was one from friends, with dire warnings about this place “I stayed at this mission in Yaounde last year and had a nasty experience with the swiss man in charge. I had the runs but due to the toilet being locked at 8pm I had to resort to the bushes all night” and a link to other complaints – take a look at:
http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hubb/sub-saharan-africa/yaounde-accomodation-warning-55577
So, word of warning to all future overland travellers – use this place at your own risk! It’s NOT the “simple and clean” facility the Rough Guide and Lonely Planet describe! Spread the word, folks.
Madame was over first thing this morning, bewailing the fact that people were sabotaging her by taking photographs of the facilities etc when she was trying so hard to raise the money to build a new guesthouse. The reality is that with the money she’s coining from over-charging everyone who comes here – I mean, the 2 overlander trucks alone have been here for 3 nights, here for another 4 – that’s 7 nights at a minimum of 2000CFAs per person per night – that’s 100 000CFAs just for two groups, and there are others coming – she could clean up the facilities and supply running water at least!! Getting a bit ahead of herself with wanting to build a new guesthouse when she can’t even maintain the existing one!
After the run-ins with the weird owners at the Presby Mission in Yaounde, we decided to make for friendlier shores – off to Kribi to meet the rasta who sells stunning shrimps on the rocks!!
But first it was a visit to the supermarkets – how wonderful to see cheese again. We stock up, stop at the patisserie for a crème caramel ice-cream – that has to have been the highlight of my trip! I’ve been salivating for an ice-cream for weeks, but not found anything – this was caramel with little crisp bits of brulee broken into it – to die for, darling!
Repack Lavinia to get all the new fresh stuff in, then down the hill through the traffic – today there were gendarmes directing traffic – not with much effect, but at least it made the snarl-ups official! Down to the huge main central round-about: we have to make a left, so follow a local car across the central avenue through the round-about – and suddenly there are dozens of guys waving machine-guys and yelling at us – the local car shoots through, but we get pulled over!! Now what? Turns out we have “driven down the President’s private road”!!!! He has a 30m private road through the middle of a round-about??
Anyway, we get hauled out and over to the police post just the other side of the inter-section, where with much yelling and shouting and spittle-spraying we’re left in no doubt whatsoever that we have committed a prisonable crime – at the very least our vehicle will be impounded. We argue the point – I’ve lost it with much of this “pull over the whiteys” stuff, and now give back as good as we get – so there’s lots of yelling and hand-waving and finger-waggling. Six officials in a hot little room, one behind a desk looking bored, man and woman in uniform cuddling on a bench in the corner, smiling man sitting next to me – then suddenly the ‘commissioner’ says “placate, placate” and the atmosphere changes! Now we are their best friends, “welcome, you visitors” etc etc – but “you know when you visit the palace, you need to bring something to show respect...” I look at John, he looks at me, and we both say “a bottle of rum do?” The offer’s accepted with alacrity, and within minutes we’re out of there. President’s Private Road!!
We do quite well until mid-afternoon, then a huge accident between a taxi-brusse and a horse/trailer closes the road and slows traffic to a crawl. Never mind, the vendors are on the job almost immediately – good extra sales for them! Horrid accident though, doubt if anyone made it out of there.
By the time we get to the turn-off to Kribi, it’s already almost 5pm, and we have another 80kms or so to do down a little logging road – plus we’re hot and sweaty and I’ve got an upset stomach – must have been that gallon of ice-cream I ate!! So we bail, find what has to have been the find of the trip so far: a very good hotel in a little village – air-con, a big bed with beautiful white mosquito netting, balcony out onto the river – and plumbing that works with hot water!!! An excellent steak dinner in a very French little restaurant – what a pleasure. We’ve been needing a bit of a break from crappy toilets and bush-camping!
Did some hand-washing in the shower, hung it out on the balcony to dry overnight, then watched Libya melt down and Gaddafi shout the odds on the French News channel . Gosh but the whole Arab world seems to be shooting itself in the foot at the moment, doesn’t it? Not that West Africa’s much better – more shootings in Nigeria yesterday, Cote d’Ivoire still very volatile, even peaceful little Cameroon’s getting into it and has planned a protest march today – not sure what for, but it’s planned anyway!
Almost makes me glad we’re almost home!
For the last spot to camp in Cameroon before taking off for Gabon, this has to be it! Right on the beach, surf pounding away to our left with fishing boats being pulled up or launched just across the mouth, camped under king palms and a huge loblolly tree, orange-headed geckos doing press-up on the little sand knoll in front of us – oh boy, have I died and gone to heaven!
Lots of people here (whiteys like ourselves; it’s obviously ex-pat hang-out!), enjoying the beach and the swimming – looks like a nice restaurant and John just saw a huge fish being landed into the kitchen, so I won’t be cooking tonight! A lady arrives just after we set up camp and asks if we want washing done, so the towels and jeans etc have gone off to here – I did the smalls and shirts on my knees in the shower at the hotel last night. Damn – if I’d only waited, I could have saved myself the hassle!!
We set up camp under the watchful eyes of several hawkers with their crafts laid out nearer to the patio – they’re absolutely bowled over with our “maison d’elevee” which I think means house in the sky??? And then continue to watch intently as we fry up egg-bread (to use up yesterday’s baquette) and sliced plantains – you can see them shaking their heads at the paucity of the English imagination when it comes to food!! John gets a little edgy at being under inspection all the time, but I find I can quite happily ignore them! In fact, it strikes me again how much more at home I am in black Africa than in Arab Africa – here I can joke with them, josh them along, yell at them, lose my rag completely at times and really take them to task – all without worry. Whereas in Arab Africa, I was too nervous to even look into a man’s eyes!!!
Unfortunately the fact that we have some time to mellow out in means I need to get myself into gear and do some work! Several authors call, and I need to shake a leg, before the afternoon siesta effect takes over completely!
I’ve been sending the blog by email through the satellite phone just lately, as we have had no internet access at all, so apologise if things have got a bit scrambled! Pse be patient: there might be a problem!!
Down the back road from Kribi to Ebolowa and the Gabon border – dirt, but a good road with only the occasional serious hole or broken bridge. Jeepers wants to reroute us through Yaounde again, but after some time decides we do know where we’re going and she’d better join us! The road takes us through spectacular rain forest; ginormous bamboo bending down across the track to enfold us in a long green tunnel, broken only by the occasional clearing for a house or neat little village or a quarry carved out where the big machinery has been scarring the side to rebuild the road. There’s lots of machinery around: graders, rollers, diggers – there’s obviously a lot of work being done on the road ahead of the rainy season.
We have to stop for directions a couple of times, and at one stop we meet George, a Lebanese who’s working for the Forestry Dept doing Caterpillar maintenance – he jumps out, stops for a chat, asks for a card – he’d love to meet with us for coffee and talk, but he has to work and we have to move on! Amazing the interesting people you meet though – he and John got on like a house on fire, once they’d established the Lebanese/Saudi links!!
The sky is getting blacker by the second, and all of a sudden our first major rain of the trip hits us – huge tablespoonfull-size drops collide with the windscreen as the heavens chuck the full bucket at us! Within minutes the dusty road is a running brown river, the holes disguised as harmless puddles but actually deep enough to spray above the windows. The side windows are a smear of brown mud, impossible to see out of – not that anything’s passing us, but still. The only things moving now are the kids rushing home from school and the occasional worker, huge banana leaves held protectively over their heads, and the old ladies with panniers on their backs, trying hard to avoid being splashed or stepping into a puddle.
It’s difficult to see through the windscreen, impossible to see through the side windows, and we seem to be travelling along in a little time bubble all by ourselves. Slowly it eases off, the rivers rushing down the middle of the road taper off into the ditches at the sides, and all that is left is a damp raod and glistening green leaves – boy, did they enjoy the wash!
We’re in Ebolowa by lunch-time, and after a quick stop at the veggie market for bright red tomatoes and brilliant green peppers, we get brochettes from a roadside barbecuer and munch them in the car. Delicious! Then we scour town looking for an internet cafe – it’s almost month-end and I’m worried that there won’t be anything in Gabon. But despite going down every single road in town, we can’t find anything – so land up at the patisserie for beignettes for John and an ice-cream for me, then hit the road again!
By 4.30pm we’ve decided crossing the border is not a good option for today, so we bail at Ambam – yes, that’s really it’s name! Nice little town, we find a respectable looking “hotel” and check in. Have to vacate the first room because the toilet doesn’t flush “oh, this is Africa,” smirks the assistant receptionist (the hotel manager hasn’t got off her cell-phone since we arrived, so I’m already chipped with her!). “Fine,” I say, “but I still want a toilet that works. Or no cash!” We get a toilet that works, with a shower that works too!! And TV (need to catch up on Gaddafi) and air-con – although it’s so cold this evening, I can’t see we’ll be using that. Although a lady of the night has just checked into the room next door, so maybe we’ll use the noise of the air-con to drown out the screams of ecstasy!!!!
Dinner at a very elegant place – we order bouef with plantains – and a few bites in, I’m saying to John “what IS this??” Turns out we’ve ordered langue d’ bouef – which is tongue!! Need to sharpen this French pencil, I’m afraid. Still, it was very tasty, if a tad unexpected.
Time to crash – Gabon awaits.
Another day, another country! After getting no joy out of the shower at the hotel this morning (just enough water for John to soap up, nothing to rinse off with – he had boiled up a kettle in the carpark to shave with but because the plug in the basin didn’t fit, ran out of our own warm water halfway through the shave!!) and being told once again that ‘this is Africa’ to which we replied, fine we’ll pay like Africans, short, we left for the process of checking out of one and into another country, our 12th of the trip.
Fairly painless it was too – the Gabon gendarmes tried several times to charge us for looking at our passports, but we’ve, as John says, finally learnt to say NO forcefully! And the Gabon Immigration insisted we had photocopies of both our passports and our visas and wouldn’t budge despite much throwing of toys out of cots (mine!) – watch out, those of you following us – photocopies an essential suddenly! There is a definite increase in police checks – within the first 50kms of entering the country, the count was up to eleven – but apart from wanting ‘cadeau le chef’, they were very polite. And even when we just shook our heads, they remained polite and simply waved us on!
Gabon at first sight seems very little different to Cameroon: same neat little villages, same rain forest, same people, same lifestyle – they also have Granny buried in the front garden, although a couple of times we did see Granny’s tomb being used as a place to dry washing here! Can you imagine Sevenoaks allowing you to bury your best-beloved in the daffodil beds??? But every home here seems to have at least one, if not several graves in pride of place, beautifully tiled with either kitchen blue or bathroom white.
But then as we travel, we start to see the differences. Where are all the people?? After the btraffic freneticsm of Ghana and Nigeria, Cameroon seemed to be delightfully laid-back, but the traffic was still something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Here in Gabon, it looks like the traffic has all been shifted out of town – but then we see there’s no traffic out of town either. The reality is – there are not very many cars here.
But the bigger reality is that there are not very many people here – it’s not that the people don’t have cars, it’s just that the country doesn’t have lots of people! Which makes for a wonderfully relaxed feel to things – the market is friendly rather than bustling, the roads are a Sunday afternoon drive instead of a life-threatening endurance race.
We wind our way up to Oyem, the first major town, buy some boiled eggs and a baguette and find Centre Marie Dominique, where we sit on the crisp lawn of the Catholic mission and watch the town below us. It’s a delightful break, and a great introduction to another country. We spend half an hour watching great big black ants demolish our crumbs – house-size manna from heaven to them – and move it back to their nest under the tree. A blob of avocado dropped next to them becomes a mountain of luscious nectar – I wonder how long it will take them to transfer that spoonful, drop by infinitesimal drop?
All too soon it’s time to shake a leg: we’ve made a decision finally, and are going to aim for Lambarene first, then backtrack to the Lope National Park – from there, the decisions depend on the state of the various roads, but no-one here has any idea except to say “Oui! C’est bon!” when asked. Experience has taught us that’s not necessarily always the truth!
We’re flying somewhat blind from here on – have no more guide books to guide us, only our Michelin map and Tracks4Africa on Jeepers – our Rough guide and Lonely Planet both ended in Cameroon. Don’t know why we didn’t buy something else – but I think the fact that no-one yet covers the next few countries is probably the reason! Congo, DRC and Angola still all have warnings posted – no information about these countries,
Anyway, we’ll toddle along, see what there is to see, talk to others hopefully, and get to where we get to! I do want to go to Lambarene, home of Albert Schweitzer’s original leper mission and still an active hospital – the rest we’ll see.
Gabon, from the little I have read, is a country that has developed enormous eco-tourist parks – all very inaccessible by land and all VERY expensive - $350 per night per person starting price?? Without the flights in and out etc? Not in our budget unfortunately, although it would be very special to go to Loanga Park and see the surfing hippos! Maybe next trip. But it’s done well for them – they have an upmarket tourist clientele, who pay through the nose for the remoteness of their encounters with what little wildlife is still here – mainly the surfing hippos, chimps and gorillas, although I hear there are elephants too.
And other stuff on the roadside! We get stopped once again by a gendarme with a piece of string across the road (what would they do if we drove straight through it???), and are flabbergasted by the sight at his feet. It’s a bushmeat stop – lying on the ground are (all dead) four pigs, several goats, some large cane rat type things – and a python that must be 9ft long and about 8 inches thick!! I couldn’t quite work out of he’d confiscated them, or whether they were for sale – six or eight people standing around looking very interested.
Bush camping takes on another dimension suddenly! So when we finally pull off the road a few hours later and duck up an old logging road, I study the terrain carefully – is this python-slithering-out-of undergrowth??? I decide not, and we park. However, it IS black miggie-biting territory, little midges that immediately aim for your eyes and whatever sweat is running around and are an absolute pest. I haul out my trusty mozzie-headgear and plonk it over my hat, but within minutes am gaspinf for breath – it’s like being inside an over glove!! Out comes the Tabard, slathered on, hopefully they’ll give up before I do!
Otherwise it’s early to bed – at least the tent is bug-proof!
On the dot of 9am this morning, we crossed the Equator in equatorial Gabon – 0 degrees north, 0 degrees south. Inappropriately it was drizzling and overcast, but who the hell: been there, got the t-shirt! Or the Kodak moment at least!
It bucketed down last night, absolutely tanked it down, to the point I was seriously concerned we were just going to gently slide down the hill in the slippery clarty red mud! But we didn’t – the only adventure was in the middle of the night when I decided I really really needed a pee, and unfortunately not being a John I can’t unzip the side window and lean out but need to clamber halfway down the ladder and hang my butt out to dry over the front bumper – and of course just then a truck swirls past, hooting madly!! Oh well, I guess it gives him dinner conversation for the next few months – things you see while driving long-distance in Gabon rain forests!
We had planned to go to Lambarene and then backtrack to Lope, but almost immediately as we turned south after the Equator, the road disintegrated – I think the Chinese went home? What was a great tar road, well-surfaced and well-cambered, became a narrow red dirt track, made very uncomfortable with all the rain last night. It was spectacular drive – through long tunnels of bamboo bent over down to the road with the weight of the rain, but very dicey. We slipped and slid into Ndjole (mainly to have breakfast at the Bradt Guide’s recommended Auberge St Hubert which was no longer – but we found Auberge St Jeanne and had a great breakfast anyway!!), and talking to some locals and a young couple working for Wildlife Conservation, we decided against taking the back back roads we’d been thinking of, and opted to visit Lope National Park first.
So, quick turn-around, back to a rickety bridge over the Ogooue River – huge beautiful fast-flowing brown river, and we were off to Lope on the N3 – for those who know SA, same importance as the N3 Jhb to Dbn, or in UK I guess the M6. Not quite the same here in Gabon – good red dirt road with only the occasional mudhole, very little traffic. Wonderful scenery – we trailed along the river through the deserted rain forest , and then completely unexpectedly came out into grassy savannah – what a surprise! We might have been driving through the Lake District or Drakensberg, not Equatorial Africa!!
We’ve finally stopped, the only people in a large green field behind the E.Mbeyi Hotel – a real ditz of a receptionist had only one answer to every question: “May we camp here?” How many nights? We’re not sure, where’s the Lope Park? How many nights? Do you have a restaurant? How many nights? John eventually yells “ONE!” She smiles, says yes camp anywhere, and sashays off, slowly in the direction of the bar!!!!
We pitch camp, take a shower, decide to give her another chance and wander over to the bar. The conversation that follows is like a Monty Python sketch!
The bar shelf holds a goodly stock of bottles of spirits, the deep freeze has beer.
“Un gin & tonic?” I enquire, staring at the large bottle of London Gin. “Glas?” John asks as she passes me a litre bottle of tonic out of the fridge. “Pas de glas,” she says. “How the hell can I do a G&T without a glass?” I squeak. John snorts – glace is apparently ice, not glass. That French lesson again! She passes John his beer then looks at us expectantly her hand out for payment. “Le gin?” John enquires. “Pas de gin, ” she says straight-faced. I collapse laughing – do we attract them or what?? So now I have a large G&T without the G!!!
Tomorrow’s job is to FIND Lope National Park! Or at least find out something about it. There is a serious lack of information anywhere around, but the Rough Guide on Africa I took a glimpse at back in Limbe mentioned Makingo Primate Research, started and run by the London Zoo Society, somewhere in the park – the Michelin map shows a little hut (no road!!) and the big map of Africa book we have shows a hut too – in a different place, but marked Makingo. They say there might be elephants here – and maybe buffalo “because, you know, we can’t shoot them!”
It’s a bit like looking for the surfing hippos of Loango, I think.
We went over to the Lope Nat Park office this morning, to see what we could find out about the ins and outs of the Park. Well, perhaps I’m spoiled by the South African parks or something, but everything is just SOOOOOO flipping dis-organised and unhospitable!!!
We drove into the Park office grounds, up a road that has seen no attention for at least 5 seasons of torrential rain, to very nice staff accommodation – what looked like a visitor block (only because there was a gent in a skimpy towel rushing to get back to his room!!), a building marked Eco Musee, and another building. But no-one (except the towel-wrapped guy) around: we drove around a bit, eventually an older gent came across – he’s a botantist, studying insects here, told us he thought we should be able to find someone “over there” and pointed vaguely in that direction. So we went over there, and found a cleaning lady – who greeted us cheerfully, rattled away in rapid-fire dialect French, looked blank when we said “Can we go into the Park” and scuttled away to find someone else.
Who arrived, along with another four locals, like ants out of the woodwork – “tourists!” was the call. Inquiring about the Park, what we could do, where we could go, we were told we could “Pay 15000CFAs for the car, 5000 each per person, 10 000 for a guide (who only spoke French) and 10 000 for an eco-guard (in case we picked some plants???) – and then we could drive into the park, for a day, provided we squeezed the other two guys into the vehicle too!!! Well, the squeezing in was a no-no, so any trip in Lavinia was a no-no. Then they wanted all of it, except the 15 000 for the vehicle, but wanted 10 000 to go in their vehicle. And we hadn’t even got to the camping side of things yet!
By this time we were both a bit irritated, so decided we’d rather go to Mikongo, the primate research project set up by the London Zoo. Society, some 50kms away. Inquiries as to whether we could stay there seemed to collect a “Yes”, so we took off. Great drive through savannah and rain forest (really strange combination, but it works!), to the entrance of the project – which had a large chain and two padlocks to bar the way in!!! Not a soul in sight, a very helpful gent in the nearby village tried to raise the padlocks, but they were chained really tight, so it was reverse down the hill, back to Lope and the E.Mbeyi camp site again.
Primates off the list, laundry calls. The AfTrails truck had just pulled in and were setting up camp, so we set up in the same place as yesterday, and got down to some hard work. Laundry done, and hung, we spent the rest of the afternoon doing blogs and in my case some reports and editing – no internet anywhere around, so we’re only able to use the sat phone to upload the blog – no emails or internet.
Oh well, at least we can chat to the AfTrails guys this evening!
Feels strange to be writing South instead of North after all these months. But by crossing the Equator, we’ve stamped our feet most definitely into the south, even if we have hovered around the 0° for a while!
We spent a pleasant evening back at E.Mbeyi, Lope last night after our abortive trip to see the primate research centre at Mikongo – the AfTrails truck had pulled in, so it was lots of chats and catching up over the laundry tap. As Carol from Sasketoon, Canada says, “It’s not often husband and wife have a ‘special moment’ over the week’s laundry!”
I’d put my large mozzie net up – the one that encloses the awning and it worked very well – once we realised it was better to have the light OUTSIDE the net, not inside it. We had literally just finished a dinner of steak, potatoes and salad when the heavens opened up and it tanked down! Boy, when it rains here, it really rains! We managed to get most things inside, left out the dishes etc for the morning, and sat in Lavinia until about 9pm waiting for it to pass. Which it didn’t, so we made a frantic dash for the tent, needless to say getting pretty wet in the process of climbing up the vehicle into the tent!
However, dried off with our only dry towel ( the other two had been in the laundry earlier as they were decidedly ‘mingin’ – a new word I learnt from AfTrails which describes that peculiar overlanders sweaty steamy smell to a T!!), we were very cosy, despite the rain. That Hannibal tent is a dream – no leaks, warm as toast when it needs to be, cool when it needs to be – and it keeps the mozzies out!!
But then the wind got up, and suddenly the vehicle was heaving about – took a few minutes to realise it was the awning wanking about and causing the vehicle to wobble alarmingly. We both looked at each other in despair, but realised there was nothing for it but to get out in the cascading downpour and fold the awning!! Oi vey!
Of course it was full of rainwater, bulgingly heavy, and as we released one side, the whole lot cascaded down over the top of me – I didn’t get any wetter as I was already soaked, but boy I got a shock! Back in the tent again, the mattress was now wet at one end where we’d climbed in and out and tried unsuccessfully to dry off, and the tent was full of wet doggy-smell clothes! I turfed those out onto the bonnet, thinking they wouldn’t come to any more damage, we dabbed ourselves as dry as possible – thanking our lucky stars that we weren’t one of the AfTrails group, who have thin flimsy little tents that get flattened by a drizzle let alone a torrential downpour! I think they spent much of their night on the hard concrete floor of the bar area.
Oh well, wet clothes into a black bag this morning, pack up and drive to Lambarene, home to Albert Scweitzer’s leper hospital and much history. It’s a lovely area - the hospital is on the bank of the Ogooue River, and we are camped on the island in the gardens of the Mission Souers de l’mmaculee Conception, a teaching order with a very noisy junior school!
But the kids have all gone home now: it’s beautifully quiet and peaceful – there seem to be three Sisters here, one seems to be the Head of school, another the ‘organiser’ – she is sewing right now, organised where to hang my washing etc, showed another couple to a room – and a black sister who is a teacher. Seems the other teachers are lay people; they’ve all gone home now.
The buildings are delightful, a soft pale red-brick double-storey which is the convent proper, the older classrooms and the original kitchen and laundry area. They have washing machines that must have come out of the 1920s – still in use!! And the gardens are a delight. Immaculate lawns, lovely bushes of hibiscus and flowering ginger, old green plastic containers of some sort used in a very pretty design as flower tubs. All looking out across the Ogooue River: a wonderful place to spend your convent years if that’s your bent.
Had a bit of a panic this morning, when John suddenly decided we might not have enough cash on hand! ATMs have become very hard to find (the guides claim there are NONE in the Congo and DRC, and only a couple in Libreville, Gabon). So, do we drive to Libreville, another 350kms or so and another big city, or do we tough it out? We stop on the side of the road to count our money!! Which means offloading half the back so we can get into the safe – but is worthwhile, because we discover we have exactly enough US dollars to pay for visa extensions if we can get them in Angola, and enough euros to convert to cover us through to at least Luanda – so long as we tighten the belt, bush camp and eat from Lavinia’s provisions for the next 3 weeks!!
We promptly get tempted by roadside-roasted beef and potatoes for lunch – unbelievably good! And the camping tonight is costing us, but only 5000CFAs, cheap at the price.
We’ll make it – that is, so long as Kabila doesn’t close the borders or something equally weird!!
Internet access!!! What a dream – after a week or so of no availability, it was tear-jerking to see all these messages flooding into my inbox! Unfortunately ¼ of them were spam or ads for enlarged penises, ½ of them were from the editing societies I belong to getting their knickers in a knot about another point of punctuation, and the rest were from you, delightful friends who email – you made my day!!! Unfortunately by the time they were all downloaded, and I’d accessed my bank in order to pay month-end stuff, my time was up!! So, no photos uploaded to the blog – sorry – I have some really nice ones I want to share!
Minor restocking of necessaries like bottled water and cans of coke, plantains and onions, it was back on the road again, after a great break. Both John and i are taking rehydrate regularly now, as we can feel the dehydration set in by midday each day – it really is hot and steamy, despite constant rain. Maybe more humidity because of the rain, but boy, we’re sweating gallons. So, prevention being better than cure, we mix up a litre bottle every morning, and drink from it throughout the day – keeping levels topped up, somewhat like a vehicle.
We’ve started off all fresh and clean again – laundry done, groceries topped up, vehicle mess sorted out once again. Incredible how one little vehicle can get itself into such a pigsty of a mess!! Note to myself re laundry and clothes – for future trips like this, cotton shirts and longs only – no jeans (jeez are they a pain to wash by hand!!!), no t-shirts – I find them far too hot and sweaty-making, and they definitely pick up a ‘mingin’ smell long before anything else. Nice cool thin cotton is the answer!
Down to Fougamou on initially a beautiful brand new big tar road – what a treat. Then just 60kms out of town, the road disintegrated into red dirt – just as the heavens opened up and it p...d down! The road was okay one moment, wide and graded with the water running straight off into the ditches at the side, then would collapse into a narrow disaster – usually with no signage whatsoever. At one stage we came round a long sweeping corner on a good part of the road and the road disappeared down a little track to the left – we took it only because it’s automatic these days to follow the tracks most worn! And just as well we did, because not 10m further on, the “road” disappeared down a hole where the bridge would be - one day!! A poor little Mazda sat very forlornly crunched at the bottom of the hole – he’d obviously not being paying attention round the corner!
Other than those sort of ‘natural disasters’, it’s been a more of the same day in Gabon – yawn – I mean, how much beauty can you take without getting bored??? Lush dark green rain forest and towering iroka trees give way unexpectedly to sweeping savannahs, and then around a bend you’re back in the rain forest. It’s tantalising trying to work out what’s next. Very little habitation along this road, despite it being the main N1 to the Congo border – maybe a car every hour or so? Villages are few and far between, and even then are only a few houses – and of course at least one if not two “Dancing Bar” shacks, where the local men sit from early in the morning (or maybe still there from the night before??) Which reminds me – someone needs to spread a little English around here – I’d be rich if I had a pound for every sign I’ve seen that proclaims “Nigth Club”!!
It rains almost consistently all day, sometimes hard, sometimes drizzle, so we just continue driving. Through Yombi, Mouilla and Mbadi, where the road makes a big split – one road to the coast and Tchibanga, ours to Ndende, Doussala and the Congo border.
And suddenly we’re only 80kms from the Congo!!
Not wanting to cross late afternoon and have to find somewhere to sleep in unknown territory (haha, like THIS is known??), we find ourselves a flat quarry patch of sorts, pull off the road – and this is home for the night. John now has Lavinia up on the hilift jack, as there was a squeak of note an hour or so ago, and he’s worried it’s wheel bearings. All of which causes great consternation amongst the locals – as it gets later into the evening, more trucks are out on the road – I think they wait for dark to creep past the police!!! So everyone hoots and cheers – so far no-one’s stopped, hope they don’t.
At the Mission last night, a Spanish couple in their late 50s pulled in – they’re also doing Spain to SA, but they’re doing it slowly – 8 months in Gambia, now they’re leaving the vehicle in Lambarene while they fly back home for a few months, come back in about August to carry on. They have a Landcruiser with one of those lift-up type tents, where the whole roof of the vehicle hinges at the front and lifts high above the back. Showing it off to us, they raved about it, and I was getting quite excited – certainly seems a safer way to travel in Africa, because you’re always inside the vehicle accessing the tent from inside, so not at risk in the same way as we are. We have to clamber down from the tent, unlock Lavinia and climb in before we can escape. But then she told me about being attacked in Morocco while they were sleeping – someone climbed onto the roof to get in through their open top window – and of course the whole thing collapses like a sandwich!! So I’ve decided against it for the moment.
Still no real news here about Libya – we gather Gaddafi’s hanging on by his fingernails – and the Congo’s in a bit of a state suddenly because someone attacked Kabila’s residence, but no further news than that.
We’ll just keep on creeping through, hopefully under everyone’s radar!
8am:
Started the day with a local walking past with his big machete and two brak dogs, who immediately ran over to us (visions of the Sevenoaks nurse going “rabies, rabies!”) and dived into the grass behind us to find the two chicken bones I’d thrown out after supper last night – amazing sense of smell!
Then John decided he needed to change the wheel-bearings on the right rear wheel – it had been screaming intermittently for 20 mins or so late yesterday afternoon, and he’d lain awake all night worrying about it! So of course he needs to do something about it, which means jacking the vehicle up, removing the wheel and replacing the wheel bearings! As it is, the ones taken out seem absolutely fine, but at least he’s put his mind to rest and we shouldn’t have to do this sitting stuck in a mud-hole in some godforsaken spot in the middle of the Congo with marauding tribes dancing around us!!!
Amazing to think we are only 4 weeks away from Day 150 and the end of our trip. It was such a long time in the planning, and it seems to have flown by!
6.30pm In the Congo!
Ended the day tucked up a little track with “grass as high as an elephant’s eye” on either side, but hopefully out of view of any passers-by. One of the serious disadvantages in both Cameroon, Gabon and now Congo has been the lack of places to pull off and bushcamp – the roads run right to the edge of either the rain forest or the savannah – and the road through the savannah is lower than the surrounding vicinity so it’s impossible to climb out of the road!!! So we’re always looking for an old quarry, a disused roadworks area, a track that hopefully goes nowhere – tonight’s seems to go off into the savannah, leading straight back to the Gabonese border according to our Tracks 4 Africa, so hopefully we won’t be mugged by smugglers in the middle of the night. But I walked up for quite a while, and have seen nothing except something that may be a goat print (or a deer of some kind??) and a dog (or maybe a jackal??). No car tracks, no footprints, no elephant spoor – so I think we’re okay!
It has been a day of varying irritations – the border crossings were in actual fact very easy, just tedious! We were out of Gabon with no fuss – then the red tape started.
At the first Congo border (we have crossed three so far!!!), we had to give all our particulars to a very dozy gent (found out later from AfTrails that they’d camped there last night and partied, so he might have had a hangover!) who both stamped our carnet and wrote into our passports – he didn’t have a stamp for that.
Some 2kms further on, we came across a barrier, the REAL Congo border. The AfTrails truck was in front of us, so we had to wait while the various “departments” processed them first – that meant going to hut 1, filling in all the passport details in a school notebook. Then going to hut 2, filling in all the same details in another school notebook. Hut 3 was Immigration, and once again all the passport details were filled in in another notebook. Hut 4 was Douane, but because we’d already had the carnet stamped, he simply took ten minutes to read it, then very seriously passed it back to us with a “bon”.
We thought we were done, and took off, following Farron in the AfTrails truck. The “road” had become a track as soon as we crossed the border from Gabon, and over the next 10kms it continued to get worse. We sat behind Farron, watching in horror and amazement as his back wheels lifted off the ground, knowing that it was our turn next! Then we passed him at a communal p-stop – when a truck’s gotta go, a truck’s gotta go! Someway down the road we forded a massive pool, so stopped to wait and take photos of the bow-wave as they crossed!
Back moving again, through numerous small villages, far more than on the Gabonese side – many more people here in Congo, but much poorer, from the looks of the houses/shacks etc – into wide spacious savannah, beautifully lush and green. We could see a band of rain forest curving and winding around to our left, following what seemed to be the border line marked for the Gabon/Congo border. Sure enough, not too far distant we hit our 3rd Congo border post! Once again it was the same rigmarole – five different offices, five different people, five different school notebooks were written up – well, at least they have a record that we’re here! That makes twelve records so far.
Everyone was very polite, very helpful – of course the “route” ahead was always “tres bon” despite us falling into several holes and swimming up to Lavinia’s knees across several “puddles”. At one horrific looking section of torn-up rutted mudholes, a young man says we can use the bypass through his garden but only if we pay him lots of dollars! Two young boys motion us through anyway, so John being the Yorkshireman he is, takes the cheaper option. We ground out - hard - twice, with the youngsters frantically yelling at us to “go up...up...up...” while Lavinia’s bravely slipping and sliding off the edges of the ruts into 3ft deep water and her bottom’s grinding along the hard rut middlemannetjie – oi vey! But we got through – sans the dollars spent – and hopefully sans any damage except to Lavinia’s dignity.
Farron had information that the first 30kms were bad like this, then it got better. Well, better is a relative term, especially here in Africa, somewhat like a “tres bon route” – basically means if you’re on a motorbike you can get through, no problem; if you’re in a vehicle well it might take a bit longer!! And you might need to wait for someone to pull/push you out!
Tomorrow’s route takes us one of two ways: either a shortcut from MilleMille to Pointe Noire (cuts off maybe650kms – but the logging trucks have been using it and it’s been raining –add one and one together and it’s not difficult to make two!! Alternatively drive straight to Dolissie, about another 30kms, then on the ‘main road’ to Pointe Noire. As this road we’re on is supposed to be the N2 (that is the second most important/used road in Congo) I’m not sure I want to attempt the back road from MilleMille.
But of course, being a man, John might have other ideas tomorrow!
I have a bug in my computer – not a virus/worm/type of bug, but a real live genuine bug that crawled into the keyboard and lodged itself under the UP key! Unfortunately before I realised what I was doing I hit the key, and squashed him – despite much shaking and blowing, I now can’t get rid of him. So I guess I’ll just have to wait for Africa to play its part and dessicate him before the key will work again!!
A day of decidedly missed roads – one minute tar bliss, next minute dirt disas-tar!
We left our grass bush camp bright and early, and did what appears to be normal in the Congo – every main village we came to, we had to stop, see the gendarmerie, the frontier police, the duoane, the immigration – only people we didn’t see were Health & Safety and Fisheries & Agriculture!! One thing for sure, we have been reported on more times in the Congo than I think in the whole trip down Africa so far – certainly can never say they have no record of us!
While it gets very tedious, having to sit in some little shack in the steaming heat while some barely literate guy painstakingly transcribes everything for the umpteenth time, we were blessing the fact that we don’t have 20-something people aboard like the big overlanders do!! In fact, the one gent John saw on his own (I was bored with the whole scenario by this time!!) could only just write his own name, and when John said “Oh, there’s une grande camion with 21 people about 30 mins behind us,” he went into an absolute panic and called in his boss to do the transcribing!!
It’s still a dirt road, narrow, in patches bad (either big mud pools or deep ruts that you either straddle or take at an angle), but no traffic so it’s fairly easy going. The scenery is wide open here – rolling lush green grass-covered hills with the occasional tufts of trees along the ridges – if it wasn’t for the dirt road and the locals carrying machetes, you’d swear you were in England!
Reading the guide book (Carol off Af Trails has kindly lent us her Africa Lonely Planet so we’re not quite so lost any more!!), 80% of the Congo is impenetrable rain forest – except for a 169km swathe that runs along the coast. So I guess that’s where we’re driving, through the swathe of coastal savannah. There are two main roads here: one runs from the north down the centre/eastern edge of Congo towards Brazzaville, the other (the one we’re on) comes in at the bottom from Gabon, and runs along the bottom edge. So this is like the N2, assuming the N1 is the longer road down the centre of the country. You’d have to really search to find its like in Britain, and it’s like the road from my farm to the Irish Ale House in Broederstroom – I can’t think of any comparisons in either US or Canada because I haven’t found any dirt roads there!!!
Anyway, the big big decision today is: do we take the turn-off at MilleMille and the shortcut logging road to Pointe Noire, or do we go on to Dolissie and then down to Pointe Noire along the main road (two sides of the triangle therefore longer). We ask at the gendarmerie at MilleMille, who says “Non non!” most emphatically to the logging road. Not content with one opinion, we ask a bunch off two trucks who’ve just come through – they’re both doing major repairs on the side of the road, and are even more emphatic about the “Dolissie, Dolissie” direction. So off we go to Dolissie.
The road into Dolissie is no better, no worse than anything we’ve done so far, so we feel we’ve made the right choice. So far. Just outside Dolissie, we turn onto a huge, I mean HUGE, tar road, big signs up to proclaim Chinese construction has been here – and we’re convinced we’ve made the right decision! And for 40kms we merrily skim along at 80kms an hour – fabulous!
Hen we turn a corner, come off the tar, and for the next 76kms drive through a Chines road construction site – literally! To the point that I kept asking John “Are we actually on the right road – did we miss a turning?” But an occasional taxi brusse passes us, full of goods and chattels and people, so we assume we are and press on.
No British or even South African safety regulations here! To set the scene: we are driving through a belt of rain forest which climbs to about 900m before ducking down to the savannah again, and the road is being carved through here. Five-tiered ambankments are being cut through the mountains, rain forest flattened and cleared either side of the road which is literally being gouged out of the mountainside, winding back on itself all the way as it climbs. When it’s finished, it’ll be a HUGE road just like we’d been travelling along – right now, the pathway through is whatever has been left by the heavy machinery: graders, dump trucks, earth-movers, cement mixers, tar-laying machines – you name it, they’re using it. In patches a swarm of men clamber up the embankment, throwing buckets down to men below to fill with cement that they haul up to lay the guttering for the water channels above. In other places, men cling to the sides precariously, using their pneumatic drills to steady themselves when the rock under them slips.
Sometimes we’re waiting for a dump truck to offload before we can take the track through the churned-up mud behind him, at times we’re sharing the track with a roller flattening the surface just inches from our wheels, poor Lavinia is splattered with tar as we creep past the tar-laying machine hammering and spraying stuff everywhere – there is only one track on this one-day-will-be-incredible road, and we have to share it with everyone, traffic going both ways as well as sideways!
But through all the nervousness of negotiating the track, we stand in absolute awe of the magnitude of the construction job these Chinese have taken on, and the scope of what they’re doing. John keeps saying “what an interesting management project” when I think what he really means is “what a nightmare!” All the big machinery and trucks are driven by Chinese, and they are obviously the supervisors while there are hundreds of local workers – but later in the day we saw umpteen situations where a little Chinese man was sitting at the kerbside, replastering the edging that hadn’t been done properly, or the Chinese man up the embankment, flattening out a spot that wasn’t right, or the Chinese man with a big palm leaf brushing the small pebbles off a newly laid surface – attention to detail was phenomenal.
And the scenery was magnificent – the road/track took us literally to the top of the mountains, so that we looked down on the rain forest canopy some 100ft below us – and across a vista of green that stretch for ever, broken only by distant mauve and dark blue mountains many many miles away. What a wonderful day!
Down into Pointe Noire in the dark, a heaving mass of humanity and taxis out on a Saturday night – not such fun – but we’re ensconced here at the Yacht Club in perfect splendour amongst the sand and the palm trees.
And will sleep well tonight!
The first Oasis truck left early this morning, and we moved into a spot under the palm trees, in the shade, on the beach – delightful.
After doing the laundry under the tap (boy do those shirts pong after just a day or so – and when left in the laundry bag for a couple of days, well, you don’t want to be anywhere near them!!), and rigging a line between the palm trees (does sound exotic doesn’t it!), we simply mellowed for the rest of the day, watching the antics of the ex-pat and local communities mingle – or rather non-mingle – on the beach.
It’s really interesting – South Africa gets consistently slated (and rightly so) for its apartheid policies, but you know what, the rest of Africa is as bad if not worse. Here we were, sitting on a glorious white sand beach, the open Atlantic in front of us. A little jetty runs out from the beach, about thirty metres or so into the sea. And on one side of this jetty, the black locals are allowed to swim (not climb on the jetty mind!), and on the other side, the white ex-pats and locals of mixed or wealthy parentage dip their toes and squeal with delight! The young local boys are au naturel – some have costumes, some wear shorts of some sort or another, most strip off and dive into the water, as we South Africans say, kaalgat (buck-naked). The ex-pat contingency on the other hand, sport the latest and cutest of swim attire – the ladies mince around in heels the like of which I’d battle to stay upright in if in a mall, let alone on a beach for God’s sake, the men parade in Nike or Billabong – or speedos so tight they have to keep grabbing their balls to free them for a second or so!!!
Lined up next to us are about 10-15 Hobie cats, waiting to be sailed. During the day, two are taken out – but there’s a whole intricate process involved in this sailing. First the man in the skimpy speedo stands at the corner of the building, glaring around and yelling at the top of his voice. I feel immediately guilty – it’s that kind of yell and glare – and tell John we’d better see the manager about where we’ve parked, maybe we’re in the wrong place. But, much ball-grabbing later, it turns out he’s yelling for a couple of local “boatboys” to come down from the trees and rig his catamaran for him. I mean, this is a big job; it’s a Hobie 18 after all – no way can he do this alone!
So they go fetch it from amongst those next to us, get the sails out of the store, rig everything, pull it down to the water (all of 20 metres as the tide’s coming in), launch it, then stand there holding it while he finishes his gin and tonic! Finally he’s ready, saunters down, shouts at them for something or the other, jumps aboard, helps his lady friend aboard (she has taken off her high heels and now sports an itsy-bitsy-almost-yellow-polka-dot-bikini) and they take off to sea. For 20 minutes, then he comes back, because she’s had enough. Yells from offshore for the boatboys to come catch them and hold the Hobie while milady disembarks. He jumps off too, stands grabbing appropriately for a few minutes, decides he doesn’t really want to work so hard, so the boys stand holding his cat while he goes back off to the bar for an hour or so!!! Boy, life was never this good on Al Shaheen – I need to find myself a colonial instead of a good old Brit who believes in doing everything himself!
I get really angry with a silly little French brat who keeps riding his skateboard up and down the jetty yelling at all the local maids walking the little white kids “attention, attention” and pushing past them. Then he flings the skateboard down, yells at an old black man to bring his bicycle “now, now!” I get up, yell back at him, “hey brat” before John grabs me and makes me sit down again. God I hate that kind of attitude – how DARE some upstart little 8-year old white brat yell at a man well into his 50s, just because he’s black?? He then came rushing past us on his skateboard, did a fancy turn to show off – and fell flat on his face at my feet. I was very quick to mutter “I’m sorry it was only sand” : I think he got the message even if he didn’t understand the words, because he promptly went off to order around some streetkids hanging around behind us. Deserves everything he gets.
Wztching things though, is it any wonder blacks dislike/despise whites? I’m generalising obviously, but we watched while the black security man chased off any local kids who swam too near the jetty, or too near the “white beach” – while white guys on skidoos hauled their kids and their neighbours’ kids around on big tyres, never offering a ride to any of the little black boys dying for a chance – while all these boats, lasers, hobies, dinghies of all shapes and sizes, sit here unused, week after week, month after month, and no-one thinks to say “hey let’s take 2/3/4 off them out, teach these kids to sail” – the gap between races is so very very marked in Africa, even in the so-called liberated areas.
No apartheid, but segregation is rife. And imposed by black people on black people, at the instruction of the whites.
Horrific.
So much for a mellow day.
Just as well we had a good layday yesterday, because today’s tested everything!
We took off midday or so from \pointe Noire, after a delightful stay, and as we left the Yacht Club John said “Only 130 or so kms”. I laughed. “Could take us 6-8 hours, judging by recent roads!”
Boy, little did I know. Here we are, 9pm at night, 37kms later and we won’t be on the road before probably 9am tomorrow again – that’s an average of 2kms an hour!!! Better even than \Lambarene to Pointe Noire, which was 750 kms and took us 27 hours!
However, it wasn’t the road this time: it was “just another border crossing!” The exit from Congo was smooth, easy and polite. We tootled down the 200m or so towards the Cabinda side and that was where all the wheels fell off.
John went in to Immigration while I sat in Lavinia – we’ve lost the padlock on the rear door, and there were too many skebengas hanging around to leave the vehicle unguarded. So I spent the next hour or so watching the dark side of Africa materialise – and it was horrendous. There are dozens of homemade pushcarts and contrivances of all shapes and sizes lined up, loaded to the gills, waiting to be allowed through the barriers.
On the Cabinda side of the gate are both army and police, all armed and wielding long lengths of flexible rubber tubing, which they use with specious ease on anyone and everyone. As if that’s not bad enough, there are a horde of what I can only call bandits (not my word, one of the locals called them banditos!), These guys attack (both verbally and physically) the cart-owners as they arrive, demanding payment of some kind or the other – sometimes it’s part of the load, sometimes it’s cash, sometimes if they don’t like your face they take the whole lot!! All done with much aggressive yelling and shouting and really nasty behaviour – suddenly I’m very aware that these guys not so long ago were full-on atrocity-committing mercenaries, not the sort of men you’d take home to Mama.
I grit my teeth and stand it as long as I can, but when they jump on an older woman and her young son with a load of fish, berating and beating them both, forcing her to offload her entire catch then poking holes in the feeble jute bags and helping themselves indiscriminately to some of the bigger fish, I yelled out the car window. “Crooks! What you doing?!” Not that it stopped them, just caused a lot of hilarity as this white “Anglaise” yelling at them. It also attracted attention to me, and I had the hordes then descend on me, harassing, begging, sneering, wanting me to give them something – so I finally escaped from the car and went to find out what was keeping John.
Who was having problems of his own – filled in all the forms (in Portuguese now so that required a few Tippex white-outs), then the passports were taken off somewhere and he’d been waiting forever for them to come back. As I arrived, one of the officials said “go do carnet”, so he went off while I waited for the passports. They came back – but now had to wait for the “chef” to stamp them (they’d been away being photocopied), and the chef was busy on the phone. Waiting for him to get off the phone, I watched the scene down below – and when they started beating the same woman again, I lost it! Yelled at the chef to get off the phone and come do something about the “banditos”! He got such a shock at someone yelling at him, he actually did get up and come see, then called one of the army guys who stomped over – they had a big chinwag – the chef yelled at some kid who was leaning on Lavinia – and nothing else happened!! The skebengas continued as normal, the army and police continued the beatings, and I stood on the porch in tears of absolute fury and frustration!
Chef then played with us, talking on the phone non-stop until about 10 minutes before the offices closed (we’d been here for about 2 hours by this time),then called someone who spoke English to explain to us that they couldn’t let us into Cabinda as it was a holiday in Angola today, no-one had told them we were coming, and they couldn’t contact anyone “to get information!!!” What information they were trying to get was unclear – we have a valid visa, all the correct paperwork, everything’s legal – but they wouldn’t budge.
They wanted us to go back to the Congo, and return tomorrow. We refused – we only have a single entry visa for Congo, and anyway, Lavinia’s already stamped into Cabinda. So, stalemate. I stood with my foot in the door to stop them closing the office until they came up with a solution – we suggested driving the vehicle into their compound so we could sleep there, but they were not biting. Felix was very helpful and very embarrassed, but he had no authority, was only the messenger boy! However, we finally said we’d park in front of the gate until morning. At that, they said “Uno minute” and went off apparently for a huddle. Well, the huddle took another two hours, by which time we’d had some serious run-ins with the drunk and aggressive locals in no man’s land here, and had eventually reversed Lavinia so that our back door *sans padlock) was sitting against the corrugated ironfgence and the driver’s door was against the barrier, protecting two sides at least. Had just cracked a beer when a contingent consisting of the “chef”, his assistant, three army officials, and an obviously senior Portuguese man came out of the dark to talk. Once again Felix interpreted, and it appeared they were “worried” about us sitting where we were as it was in the dark, and they’d like us to please move out into the middle of the tar road, so that we could be seen by both Congo and Cabinda guards!!!
So here we are, in No Man’s Land between the Congo and Cabinda (Angola) – in the pitch dark (there’s a very narrow sliver of a moon and no stars out). We’ll be sleeping in the car tonight, as I’m not getting into the tent with all this mob around – too vulnerable.
Oi vey – did I say Africa was fun???
Now I know why the Church is seen throughout the ages as a refuge – boy, were we pleased to see the imposingly seedy structure behind high walls – we have felt increasingly frail and vulnerable in Cabinda!
Yes, they did allow us in – eventually – after a fairly quiet night, all things considered (a huge fight in front of the border gate which involved flailing batons and guns being seriously cocked – and believe it or not despite what some people think, I had NOTHING to do with it – kept my nose out of it) we were on the Immigration doorstep by 7.45am, waiting patiently. And we continued to wait patiently, while the big “chef” made a series of phone-calls (none to do with us as we still had our passports)) on one or either or at one stage both of his phones simultaneously, every now and then waving at us with a “wait, wait” hand sign. Finally he came took them, another hour’s wait, then just after 10am, he waved at us with a “come here” wave and handed us our passports back, with an entry stamp in them.
“Finished?” we asked. “Finished,” he nodded. So we scarpered, quickly before a nyone could change their minds or find anything else to detain us. With him leading the procession and the army/police/frontier guards/special forces beating the way clear in front of us, we eased through the border gate, now packed with vendors trying to move both ways without losing all their livelihood, and drove into Cabinda.
Down a market area, through a small village, and out into the countryside – the same rolling savannah we’ve been seeing for the past few days through Gabon and Congo, with one difference. Lots and lots of guys in various shades of camouflage walking around with AK47s at the ready. Not a night to bushcamp, we decided.
The run through to Cabinda city was fine, good tar road, not much traffic, pleasant scenery. Both of us are very stressed however, and have nothing but bad feelings about the place. The people at the side of the road seem amiable enough, other than those with AK47s, the houses are more solid than seen in Congo, concrete rather than wood shacks, but it’s all very tired and worn down looking. We’ve decided we really don’t want to spend any more time than necessary here: pity, because I’m sure there’s lots to see.
We get to the Catholic Mission (Peter Crichton’s recommendation from some 3 years ago), and make camp for the night. The priest in charge, Fr Dominic, is not exactly welcoming, but doesn’t chase us away either: refuses to give us a room, but says we can camp in the grounds – not bad, under some huge shade trees, so good from that point. Another chap, staying at the Mission, says we can use his bathroom, as there are no available showers and the toilets are, as usual, too disgusting to mention. There’s no running water at all in the Mission; it gets trucked in each morning, but we have a bucket shower at least in Hilaire’s room. This must have been a great place initially – the rooms are huge: large bedroom, enormous bathroom (sans water) and small sitting room – all peeled paint and mould now, but it must have been very nice initially.
Then I crash – not sure if it’s dehydration, stress, lack of sleep or what, but suddenly I can barely move one foot in front of myself. We walk to a hotel just down the road, and that’s a huge effort. Here we’re ripped off $58 for a scrappy spaghetti lunch – then their Visa machine “is broke” and they don’t want to accept our $20 notes “may be bad” the manager says. More arguing and fighting – I am so tired of this!
Still, the good news of the day was that we made contact with Fr Carlos Gimes, the previous priest in charge here, who Peter Crichton had got very friendly with some time back and lost touch with. He came round later, absolutely flabbergasted that we had made the effort to find him and put him back in touch with Peter! So that was really good, and he’s a wonderful local Cabindan; spent 5 years in the Vatican to get a PhD, and now back here developing a school and orphanage here – he was telling us a bit of his story. At age 12, without his parents, he was a refugee in DRC from the ongoing fighting here in Cabinda – looked after buy the Church there, he was 28 before he managed to get back to Cabinda, where he was eventually ordained. He has a burning desire to look after the children – so many of them here scarred and damaged by war and war and more ware.
He’s an inspiration, a wonderful quiet man who went out of his way yesterday to make us feel at home.
AfTrails arrived just as dusk was falling – they’d also had a bad crossing of the border, stuck for 5 hours, but at least it wasn’t a holiday as it was in our case! Plus which, they have a Portuguese-speaking traveller aboard, so life was simpler in terms of understanding what was being yelled!! But they were all pretty freaked out by all the beatings and molesting going on as well – not a good experience. I can only say I’m glad we didn’t do the Brazzaville/Kinshasa crossing, as by all I’ve heard, that is absolutely horrific.
Early night tonight – Fr Carlos has lent us his dongle for internet, but I can barely keep my eyes open, and even John’s drooping – but he HAS to check his bank account – I’m crashing!
Our 15th country – but more to the point, this is the 30th border post we have been through – and the strain is beginning to tell, I’m afraid. We’re both shorter-tempered, less able to put up with all the crap that’s dished out generally.
And yet both of today’s crossings were fairly simple – long, tedious, irritating, but trouble-free in actual fact. I find I’ve got stroppy though – we arrived at the DRC border and as we walked in, some tall guy grabbed our carnet and started telling us he was douane and would take the papers. I simply took them back from him and said “No thanks, we’ll do it ourselves.” The frontier guard showing us in had a big grin, and an even bigger one when John said “he’s not really douane, is he?”!
But it was all very polite and efficient: in fact, they had computers – that were plugged in, and that worked! And our information was captured digitally, instead of on the back of a scrap of paper!! So that’s an improvement, isn’t it?
Pity the roads don’t follow suit! We drove the 40 or so kms out of Cabinda on a great tar road, crossed the border into DRC and the road disintegrated into absolute chaos before we’d even left the border post grounds!! Through the gate, the now sand track split – we asked the lay-abouts hanging around for “le route Matadi”, and were directed down the better of the two, to the left. 100yds down the track, Jeepers was doing her nut, yelling “recalculating, recalculating!” So we did a u-turn, almost getting ourselves stuck in the sand for the first time, and drove back to the split – here we found one of the helpful Immigration officials, and he confirmed that the road to Matadi was in actual fact the one we hadn’t taken – damn! It was a morass of sand ruts, mud and pools of standing water, a narrow track hemmed in by tall thick grass. Oh well, it has to be done, so here goes!
Four hours later, and we’re still only some 130kms down the track – it has forked several times, and sometimes the road more travelled is the one we’ve had to take, sometimes that one goes only to a local village, not the town we want to get to! Sometimes we seem to be backtracking on ourselves, sometimes we’re really sure we’ve missed the track all together – but then suddenly Jeepers beeps “Alert: Police control post” and we see it, right where it’s supposed to be. We ARE on the right road! But it’s actually a “peage”, not a police post: big notice on the side say “4x4s US$0.90” – but when John gets to the window to pay, they insist on US$20!!! We are a foreign vehicle, therefore have to pay more. I can hear John yelling “but this is a terrible road!” but he’s getting nowhere, and eventually has to fork out the $20 – and the road improves very slightly for about 5kms, then falls apart again. Oh well.
As we were starting to climb an escarpment, a guy on a bicycle came hurtling down, lost control, and took an almighty head-over-heels tumble right in front of us! We stopped in a hurry, jumped out the car to pick him up, then brought him back to wash off all his cuts and grazes – he was quite badly battered! Some 30 minutes later, after checking both he and his bike would survive, we left him with a bottle cold water, a tube of Savlon cream and hopefully a good impression!
By 5pm we’ve had it, and decide to try for a hotel room in Boma, halfway to where we’d hoped to be tonight, but that’s it. No way we can drive further on this road, and neither of us feel very comfortable bush-camping here in DRC. It’s not that the locals are aggressive – they’re just very sullen, no smiles, no waves of greeting, just stares and serious looks. We thought about waiting for AfTrails and joining them in their bushcamp, but I think they are a long way behind us – it would have taken them hours to get through both borders, and a lot more hours to get down the track.
So John scours Tracks4Africa, and finds Hotel Marantha – we drive through the real back end of Boma, past squalid shanty towns and dirt and scruff: I’m getting very depressed, but John is adamant he wants a shower! We climb up the hill above town, bump and heave over the cracks and dongas they call roads, and find a huge bright green complex, walled, gardened, fairly upmarket! Well, well – for $50 we sit looking down on the squalor, we have an en suite bathroom (the loo seat’s sitting on the floor next to the loo, but at least it has a loo seat!!), a shower (well, we will after the electricity comes on to run the water pumps and use the bucket in the shower), it has aircon that works (which is just as well because when I open the window all I get is the smell of the sewer behind the hotel!).
So here we are, luxuriating – and not feeling at all guilty tonight! John’s been feeling debilitated all day, dehydrated despite drinking litres of rehydrate, suffering with prickly heat – and I’m climbing the wall with mozzie or midge bites (not sure which) in the most uncomfortable place! You know how bad it is when you get bitten between your toes or on your little finger – well, I’ll give you two guesses how really bad it is when you get two bites right on the nipple!!! Swollen double-size, as painful as all Harry, it’s been giving me hell for about 4 days – and not exactly scratchable in public!
The things you live through in wildest Africa!
Well today has been a day to remember, to say the least!
First the good news – we are through the DRC border, actually sitting camped on a piece of green grass (actually just off the grass because the bugs were eating us alive!) right in front of the DRC Douane offices, having done all the paperwork for DRC exit and now ready for the Angolan border to open 8am tomorrow so we can get the maximum hours out of our 5 day visa!
Everyone very friendly, in fact we made big mates with the inspector of trucks etc that come through from Angola carrying “gasoil” – all in French he was explaining in great detail (once he knew John was a chemical engineer) how the oil/fuel that comes through is not always fuel – sometimes it’s cooking oil dressed up as fuel!!! He has a laboratory (well, a shack at the back of the buildings – this IS Africa!) and has to test everything that arrives – very interesting. We are of course the talk of the village, with our rooftop tent and our blue chairs and our table and our gas stoves etc – half the population were standing watching as we cooked this evening! Much giggling and laughing, especially when John shed his shirt and sluiced off with water from our reservoir – mimics all down the road were having a ball!
Then the better news – or rather the bad news made better. Remember last night’s moan about the bites on my nipple? Well, pardon the gross details that follow, but travellers to Africa beware!!!
I had a dreadful night; my boob was unbelievably sore, extremely sensitive, and when we got up this morning the entire breast was rip-roaring red and infected. John suggested a doctor here – I said, no way Jose; the hotel was bad enough, I had no faith in finding a doctor in Boma!! So I dosed myself up with anti-infection cream etc, and off we went. It just got worse and worse, to the point that I was sitting holding onto one side of my body so my boob couldn’t bounce: the roads were fair to bad to mediocre, but all very bouncy! Eventually we stopped for lunch, and I decided I had to do something – cut it off if necessary!
We stopped in some shade at the side of the road, and I did a serious inspection – the red was spreading, it was hot to the touch, and what I had thought were two mosquito bites now had little black heads to them. The one on my nipple itself was full of pus, and quite angry. So, gritting my teeth, I squeezed the one to the side of the nipple – and a long black sliver oozed out, like an elongated blackhead.
“Oooh,” says John, “that looks just like a larva.” I glare, not impressed with the thought. But then squeeze the one on my nipple, getting quite a lot of pus out, but not all of it. John remembers we have a little suction pump thingy, so I attach that to my nipple, and while I’m holding the nipple steady and gritting my teeth (this is NOT a fun job!!!), John pulls the plunger to suction the pus out.
And out squirms a real live genuine wiggling wriggling squiggly worm!!!
John yells “that’s gross, that’s gross,” leans over the door frame ready to faint, while I have to keep pulling the bloody little bugger out of my boob without breaking it in half or something equally horrific!!! Then drop it onto a file so I can take a photo for posterity – come on, it’s not every day a woman gets to pull a worm out of her boob! Then capture him in an empty pillbox so I can show him to someone who’ll tell me what the hell it is!!!
I remember growing up in Northern Rhodesia we had to iron everything because the putzi flies laid their eggs in the seams etc of your washing – was it something I picked up in the laundry somewhere? We always hang everything outside to dry – and I certainly have no iron here.
Anyway, touch wood, problem solved – my boob’s still tender, but I’ve squeezed and suctioned until the poor thing thinks it’s been milked completely dry, and hopefully anything else that might have been there is there no longer.
Word of warning to fellow travellers, however – beware of what you pick up in your washing! Check the seams etc for eggs laid: it’s the eggs that hatch and then burrow into your skin. As I discovered to my horror!!!
Tomorrow’s Angola – what will THAT bring? 5 days to cross 2000kms, roads bad to worse to disastrous to good – take your pick.
More’s nog ‘n dag, as the Afrikaners say.
Well, well – our master plan drawn up 8 months ago had us arriving in Angola on 12 Mar, and here we are, 1st day into Angola on 12th March! How’s that for planning!! And we’ve made a lot more miles today than expected, so we’re very chuffed.
John and I were chatting last night (after the boob job!!) and discussing just how much planning and preparation is needed for a trip like this: so here is what we did, as a guideline to all you wannabees or about-to-be-leavings, some advice from old hands at the travelling bit.
Pre-preparation:
Kit out vehicle: long range fuel tanks, fresh water tanks, raised suspension, winch, highlift jack, fridge (optional extra), tent, cooking facilities, storage facilities. It is essential that you are a self contained self supporting entity.
Research: extensive research into the routes to take, the places to visit, the dangerous spots, the places to avoid, the weather and when to go: we contacted many people who had done the same or a similar trip recently, and picked their brains extensively. Experience, especially recent experience, is always better than something read in a book!
Documentation: a hassle, but an essential. The vehicle needs a carnet de passage organised before leaving, you need to have spare passport photographs (we took 40 each), fiche (all your details on one document), international driving licences (two: one is valid for Nigeria & Cameroon only, the other for all the other places we were going to), copies of your id documents, bank cards, credit cards etc etc in case they get lost or stolen – nothing worse than a lost passport. Touch wood, in all my years of travel, that’s never happened!
Visas: it’s impossible or rather impractical to get all the visas needed ahead of time: many would be out of date before you got to use them! But we always tried to have at least three countries ahead of where we were, and this worked well. There are several key visa collection spots, and this information is freely available from other overlanders – beware however: do not assume that because a city has an embassy of the country whose visa you require that you will be able to obtain a visa there. Some embassies issues visas ONLY to residents of the country, not to foreigners.
Medical: as well as doing first aid courses etc, we had more vaccinations and injections than I’d have believed possible! Yellow fever is an essential in Africa, and most countries request to see your card. We also had Hep A&B, tetanus, diptheria, polio, meningitis, rabies and typhoid! Malaria is of course always a problem, but I swear by homeopathic stuff I’ve taken for all my life in Africa, and that’s what we’ve used: we do however also have a dose of doxycycline to use as a cure-all once-off dose if either of us do go down.
Communications: another essential, especially if you have family wanting to know what’s happening. We carry two cell phones, and kept one with a roaming UK number while we bought local sim cards for the other to use to keep in contact with other travellers on the road with us. We also have a satellite phone, with an external marine antenna mounted on the vehicle, and used this to upload a daily blog and for emergency messages when we couldn’t find internet access. We have two laptops, both wifi enabled, and have been able to communicate in most places with these – in fact, I have been able to continue working as editor throughout the trip!
Communication generally is a hassle in a non-English speaking country: much of West Africa is French speaking, so we did some “extra lessons” in French before we left. Invaluable.
Training: we did pretty intensive 4x4 on-the-job training, including a winch and recovery course to get used to using this piece of equipment, and several very intensive week and weekend trips geared to use the vehicle in extreme conditions and get you used to handling her. So far, we’ve not met anything in Africa that was anywhere near as difficult as the courses!!
Maintenance: John does daily and weekly maintenance checks and work on the vehicle: oil checks, brake fluid checks, greasing the universal joints in the prop shaft regularly, wheel bearing checks – all the things that go to keeping a vehicle running smoothly. We carry a large supply of spares, as Landrover parts are not always easily available in Africa. That said however, we have also found that the local bush mechanics do a great job or repair when necessary!
Financial: carry large stocks of cash, euros and dollars, but make sure you have the bulk of it in a safe hidden carefully within the vehicle. Pounds sterling are not acceptable, and travellers cheques are no longer freely accepted. Visa cards DO NOT WORK in most of West Africa, only Mastercard. ATMs sometimes work, sometimes don’t, sometimes are not there. Western Union is a good alternative to ATMs – every little village has a Western Union branch. Carry a calculator and don’t allow yourself to get hassled by the money-changers – they are sharp as buttons and wheel and deal for a living – and are out to fleece you, come hell or high water! Know your exchange rate, and try not to get flustered.
Network: perhaps the single most important point of information and support is the network you develop, both with other overlanders travelling at the same time as you, and with others who’ve done the trip and can give invaluable advice. We are in daily contact with several such people, and it’s a great help. Sometimes it’s just a shoulder to cry on, but it’s absolutely essential.
Hope this helps – I know how much effort and preparation we put into the trip, and know that without it, it would not have been half the fun it has been. Of course, remember always, however, Africa is a wild and untamed land – and it WILL always throw you a curveball, no matter how prepared you are!
It is Mastercard that is NOT accepted in most of West Africa: Visa is widely accepted. Credit cards generally are not usable except in big hotels or large chain supermarkets.
Fuel: both Nigeria and Angola, despite being massive oil producers, are notoriously short on available fuel, especially diesel. Top your tank up where it’s available – do NOT assume the next town will have. Bowsers are often empty and the only fuel you might find is in plastic containers and dicey quality. Carry a funnel with a fuel strainer.
John also reminded we that we carry loads of insurance, both on the vehicle and also very expensive medical repatriation insurance. As John is over 70, this latter was a bit of a blighter to source, but we eventually went with IHI-Bupa, a Danish company, for the medical insurance, and Locktons in the UK for the vehicle. Insurance generally was a pain, and took weeks of phoning around to finalise to our satisfaction, and some overlanders we’ve met take the view that it’s not worth the hassle, but we felt it was an essential so bit the bullet and persevered.
We also carry detailed Michelin maps of the areas we planned to travel through, plus bought an new set of maps for our Garmin, Tracks$Africa, which give incredibly well-documented roads, tracks, trails, lodging, GPS points for places of interest etc. We had two guide books for West Africa, the Rough Guide and the Lonely Planet, of which we found the RG the most useful in terms of info but not so good on backpackers/camping info. The LP was better on that. We blew it on the Congo - Angola bit, with no guide, but managed to borrow one from Carol on the AfTrails truck, as they have several aboard. Together with all the notes and GPS co-ordinates we had from others, we were well-prepared. Of course that's not to say the road's always what the book or info says it is - sometimes it's a 1000 times better (as when the Chinese have been working in the past year!), sometimes it's 1000 times worse - as happens after rain and umpteen heavy lorries tearing it up in a couple of days. But it was as good as possibl;e.
In retrospect, our medical kit was adequately stocked. Most towns have a pharmacy that certainly has the basics and often is better able to deal with tropical issues. I would say the essential items are:
Enough insect repellent cream (GOOD insect repellent!) to last the whole trip
WASPEEZE or some such for stings, and a syringe with a suction cup for extracting the sting
A good cortisone-based cream to spread on infected bites before they drive you mad! Apart from mozzies and midges, there are minute sand-flies and sand-fleas, huge horse flies, tsetse flies and a myriad of other things that sting and bite! And as I found out to my cost, lay larvae!!
LEMSIP and vitamin C tabs as a pick-me-up, throat lozenges: someone picks up a cold somewhere!
Wet wipes are a godsend, both to use in the vehicle while driving to wipe the sweat, and to use as an alternative “wash” source in a bushcamp. And a headlamp with a red light – doesn’t attract as many mozzies.
And obviously if you take specific medication, ensure you have adequate stocks for the whole trip. No guarantees for re-supply in some remote spot.
Have a wonderful adventure – we certainly are!
Life changes hourly on a trip like this!
After a hectic 80km trip to Luanda - the last section of the road, from Nzeto toabout 30kms out of Luanda, has been horrendous with some of the worst roads yet - it was a frenetic dash to find the airport, buy a ticket and get through in time to catch an emergency flight back to South Africa. By 6.30pm this evening I was walking through into Oliver Tambo airport, to be greeted by Garth, Caren and the grandkids - how wonderful to have such supportive family!
So this will be my last travel blog for a week or so - keep up to date on John's blog www.blog.mailasail.com/soutpielsafari - as he will be driving alone the last few days through Angola, hopefully to cross into Namibia on Wednesday. I'll meet him in Windhoek again later.
Everything is okay - the emergency run back to SA is property-related - too long and complicated a story to go into here, but suffice to say that I had to be back here for a meeting convened earlier than anticipated!
And John is on the home run through Angola - apart from a horrid drive of some 80kms yesterday, the road through to the Namibian border is good, and then Namibia is excellent. He's made very good mileage, was in Lubango last night - enjoying a HOT BATH at 7.30 this morning when I phoned - boy, that's luxury!!
He should be able to take it fairly easy today and tomorrow into Namibia, then will rest up in Etosha for a couple of days I think. I'll rejoin him in Windhoek for the last leg.
Thanks for all the messages of support - sorry I didn't explain further, but everything was a last minute decision and a real rush!
Good to hear from John last night that he had made it through the borders into Namibia - without TOO much trouble, and was now sitting esconced in the lap of luxury in Namutoni, Etosha Park. Always worrying when you're not sitting next to your partner in the vehicle!
My meeting with the next door neighbours went fairly well: we await the final EIA report to see if all that was discussed is to be implemented, and will take it from there. But things are looking better than they were 8 months ago on that side.
So, until I get back to Namibia, signing off again!
How good to be back with my husband again - after nearly 5 months of 24/7 time together, I thought I'd really enjoy the break - but all I did was miss him desperately!
We've taken a room in a delightful hotel about 35kms outside Windhoek - it's pouring with rain and we both looked at the weather, went "Camping? No way!" so here we are in luxury or the night. Nice.
Tomorrow we'll start the last leg of the trip, and meet up with Garth and family in Hobas, near Fish River Canyon, to spend 10 days or so with them in and around the Richtersveld. Some serious 4x4ing there - teach these youngsters a thing or two!
Then it's a quick run back to Johannesburg to pick up Sam, John's eldest grandson, who joins us in SA fo 2 weeks. Great fun!
Isn’t it great when the day ends on an unexpected high??
We left Windhoek to its holiday, after checking with Cardboard Box for any of our fellow travellers, but it seems one Oasis truck has been and gone, one still due next week sometime, and no-one knows where Aftrails are: of the individual overlanders, some are behind us, some ahead, some gone off down the Caprivi towards Zim and Vic Falls etc. So we’re on our own for now.
John’s worried about a weird noise in the wheels somewhere. So we made a run for Keetmanshoop, planning to visit Steinfelt Motors, a landy specialist we’ve had very good recommendations about. Long drive, but it was quite astoundingly spectacular.
There has been an enormous amount of rain up here, and the desert is, to use a cliché, blooming. Green everywhere – the hills, the mountains, the roadside – waves of golden green grass bow down as you pass! It’s beautiful, if unusual for Namibia.
We pulled off into a layby for lunch (it’s so nice – there are actually laybys in this country!!) and were sitting enjoying sliced cold eland (doggy bag from dinner at the hotel last night) when a Mercedes screamed to a halt in front of us, and two large Afrikaans guys leapt out. For the next half hour we watched while they stripped bits and bobs off the car, revved the engine several times, put some bits back, revved some more, finally put everything back, slammed the engine shut and came over to chat. One thing I do know is, you don’t interfere with an Afrikaans farmer who’s Merc is giving trouble – it’s a pride thing! Anyway, his clutch had stuck, he’d fixed it, all was fine, and he’d just come over to say hi and wish us a good journey.
About 180kms north of K’manshoop, we saw a sign to Oppiekoppie, and looking back realised it was probably a great campsite – literally up on top of a range of stiff barren mountains, the view out over the plains must have been incredible. But you know what it’s like once you’ve gone past – it’s really hard to make the decision to turn back! So we’ll save that one for another day.
Then about 32kms out, we saw a sign for Kokerboom Camp, so we drove the 2 kms or so down this track – a very different campsite, and perhaps another day it would have been great fun. Lots of scarecrow figures everywhere, some in little carts, some in “taxis”, some standing propping up the bar – but it all looked a little too rough and ready for tonight. (Are we getting spoilt?? Probably!)
So on to Quiver Tree Forest Camp – beautiful campsite under the acacia trees, on the edge of a world heritage site of Quiver Trees – some 200-300 years old. These very strange trees grow only in Namibia and N. Cape amongst the ironstone outcrops; used to be used by the Bushmen to make the quivers for the arrows hence the name.
But that wasn’t the only excitement – they have several cheetahs, and we arrived just in time to see them being fed – what a wonderful experience! Very nervously, John and I walked into the enclosure with the lady feeder, and stood some 5-10m away as mother Trina and her two cubs ravaged some large chunks of fresh springbok. What a privilege!!
We had cold kudu and salads for dinner, and sat in astonishment as huge spider-like beetles came to milk the ground of the sweetcorn water I’d thrown out. They finally chased us inside – it’s one thing watching them, another when they’re crawling up your leg!!
Storm on the horizon, but we’ll sleep well tonight.
Massive storm last night – thunder and lightning crashing against the iron hills surrounding us – no wonder they call the next area Giant’s Playground! And it bucketed down; along with a fair amount of wind, it meant we had to close the tent flaps for the first time in ages to stop the rain being driven in. It’s very snug, however, lying in bed listening to the rain pounding onto the canvas and watching the lightning flashes fill the sky – spectacular!
John has been very worried about the squeak in the rear right hand wheel – thought it was a wheel bearing, and has replaced the bearing, greased everything etc etc and still the squeak persists. I’d have been quite happy to let it run – after all, we’re nearly home – but thank goodness he listened to his instincts and we drove some 78kms out of Keetmanshoop to Steinveld Farm, to speak to the renowned landy expert, Johann Strauss. Johann seriously is renowned: we’ve had overlanders from all over the globe telling us about him and recommending him – he’s in Tracks4Africa as a “source” – and boy does he know his stuff.
But boy, you have to be serious about requiring his services – he runs his operation from his farm daar door in die bos and you need a landrover in good condition in order to get there in the first place!! But what a place to live – it’s paradise, 14 000 hectare of pristine Hochland veld, even more beautiful at the moment because of all the recent rain. Which reminds me – the Namibian President is on the verge of declaring the north, north-east and north-west of the country as a state of emergency due to all the floods and wash-aways – I thought this was a desert???
Anyway, back to Johann and Lavinia. Parked up over the pit, his assistant Kobus and two San helpers proceeded to give her a good going over. Pulled the rear right wheel off, amid much exclamation about how hot the shaft was, about how hot the oil smelled, pulled the wheel bearing out – what a disaster!!
For more info on the mechanical details, you’d better read John’s blog – suffice to say that five hours later we’re on our way back to Keetmanshoop to go to the bank, thanking our lucky stars that we hauled ass over to Steinvelt!
Anyone needing a landy expert – Johann Strauss is your man.
The koringkrieks were out again early this morning, scrabbling to eat each other on the road – it’s quite a scene! One gets squashed by a passing vehicle, and within minutes there are ten more devouring the body – only to all get squashed by the next vehicle as well. Serve the cannibals right! They are quite scary insects, for crickets! Huge – bodies that are matchbox size on long spiky legs, they scuttle up your trouser legs without a by-your-leave, giving you the fright of your life!! I find myself frantically counting legs to ensure they’re a 6-legged insect not some monstrous 8-legged spider!!!
In to Keetmanshoop early to see Mr Sheehama of Home Affairs about extending John’s visa for a further few days – however, at $470 for the extension (which includes he says, $80 for the form!!) we decided to roll with the punches and ensure we have crossed back into South Africa by 30th! Not difficult. Then the search was on for a luandromat – that we didn’t find, but we did find a most obliging gent who runs a laundry service who graciously emptied out a machine he’s just filled in order for us to be able to have our laundry done and dusted within two hours. What a pleasure dealing with people like this! So, off to stock up at Spar, then to find an internet cafe. Again, there’s only one in town, but it’s spotlessly clean, everything works, and the staff are most obliging.
In fact, being in Namibia is almost like being home – everything works, everything’s clean, people are friendly – and the camp sites have barbecue facilities! Wonderful – it’s a pleasure travelling here.
Back on the road again, all spruced up, down the D608 – this has to be one of the most scenic routes we’ve travelled. The desert is blooming soft waving grassland, with high mauve peaks in the far distance. The road itself is good dirt, not always cambered quite correctly so every now and then you have a bit of a walk-up call when it tips slightly, but it all adds to the enjoyment. Several drifts to ford, shallow water in a couple, mainly dry.
At the last minute we pulled off to Steinveld again, just to say hello to Johann and Ina (she passed us on her way home last night, and invited us in with such a big smile we had to oblige!) Real salt-of-the-earth people: he’s the 2nd generation to own the farm, and remembers as a very very young boy being with his father drilling for water for the first well – 300ft down with a percussion drill. What a job! Wouldn’t live anywhere else, and I can’t say I blame him. There’s something about these huge open silent spaces that just gets to you, seeps deep into your bones.
So a glass of ice cold water later, a quick stop to watch the springbok prancing before we tackle the sharp ascent back to the D608 again, and we’re off to Lorensia on their recommendation.
Not far – but who’s in a hurry?? Lorensia campsite is run by Elsje, a delightful woman with an extremely innovative bent who has created a wonderful series of campsites on the property, beautifully edged and enhanced with natural slate. Tables, braai facilities, ablution block – all made of slate. A garden of large pebbles artistically arranged and brought alive by a single large flowering cactus – she has an eye for the unusual.
Gracious hostess, she shows us to the river camp, gets Joseph to cut back some branches that are definitely going to cause John headaches, brings us a glass od ice cold juice – boy, never had service like this anywhere else in Africa!! But the mozzies are about to carry us off so close to the river, so we opt to move higher up the hill, to a site where the trees still have a way to go to provide shade but which has a great view of the surrounding countryside – and no mozzies!
While John’s off hiking down to the river pool with Rufus, her Labrador, I have tea with Elsje, and she tells me about the little steenbokkie our camp’s called after and whose skull decorates the slate slab. Abandoned by its mother as a sickly week-old, Elsje found it in the bush and for months nursed and fed it back to full strength. Then, needing to leave the little bokkie while she went to Keetmanshoop for 2 days, she left instructions with her helper to feed etc. Unfortunately he decided the best way to look after it was to put it in the chicken run, where it fell into the pond and drowned. Sad!
We had a great evening: Elsje joined us for a barbecue of kassler chops, potatoes and butternut, then we crashed out under a sky of the most astoundingly brilliant stars.
Africa IS magnificent!
The day’s travel’s getting shorter and shorter! Off the D608 and along the Gondwana Road (lots of gemsbok, springbok and zebra to see!) we were on our way to Hobas, the NWR campsite at the Fish River Canyon, and turned in here for a cup of coffee and some fuel. Interesting place – a plethora of old cars and trucks adorn the desert sands – the reception area is a huge old fire engine – it’s fabulous!
Sitting at the coffee bar chatting to some other South Africans, we changed plans – they’d been to Hobas, and been decidedly unimpressed and quite frankly p..d off with the attitude and state of the NWR campsite there. Having had previous bad experiences of the same thing, we opted out and have stopped here instead.
Now camped under two huge acacia trees, swimming pool just across the dry river bed, thunder rumbling far away in the background somewhere, beautifully turned out campsite. Garth and Caren will meet us here tomorrow, and we’ll make decisions as to what to do from here on in.
It looks as if the Richtersveld is out however. The road from Noordoewer to Sendelingsdrif is closed – some 9kms just washed away and the bridge damaged in the recent floods – the Sendelingsdrif pont is not working either, so we wouldn’t be able to cross to the SA side even if we did it the long way round via Aus/Luderitz. Two of thefive camps in Richtersveld are closed, and the road itself in the Park is apparently washed away in quite a few places.
Not for this time – it’s another trip, another year.
So we’ll maybe take the softer option – here, Fish River Canyon down to Ai Ais, Noordoewer, along the Orange River to Aussenkehr – then we’ll head home and Garth and Caren will perhaps run around to Alexander Bay to check out the birds.
What do I keep saying? Plans are made to be changed!!
Our 18th country: doesn’t feel like 21 weeks ago that we left cold Sevenoaks on this huge adventure – doesn’t feel like it’s almost at the end!!
John and I were laughing, commenting that the rest of Africa has been a challenge, an adventure – Namibia and South Africa are like a holiday!! The roads are good, things work, people are generally polite and unhassling, borders are a pleasure to cross. In fact, the most difficult part of the day is trying to choose a campsite that is nicer than the night before’s!
Garth and family joined us in Hobas from Johannesburg, and we spent a delightful two days camped out in the wilderness amongst the thorn trees and dry river beds. Great little swimming pool next to a dry river bed, so the grandies spent their days either in the pool on digging great caverns in the giant sand pit – Connor buried his sandals at one stage, which caused an adult dig in the blazing sun for 20 minutes or so as he couldn’t remember where he’d buried them! Kids – always something else unexpected!
We has planned to do an expedition into the Richtersveld, fantastic 4x4 playground with unbelievable scenery, but unfortunately with all the rain that both Namibia and South Africa have had in the past few weeks, everything’s flooded! The road from Aussenkehr to Sendelingsdrif was closed because the bridge approaches over the Fish River had been washed away, and the pont crossing the Orange River at Sendelingsdrif couldn’t run because the river was still too high.
So, new plan: we drove down to the Fish River Canyon, then down to camp at Ai-Ais Hot Springs. The Canyon is seriously a sight to see – you drive for miles and miles along almost flat stony ground, up towards a structure that stands peering out across the veld. Park, get out and walk perhaps 20 metres, and the 2nd largest canyon in the world, only dwarfed by the Grand Canyon in USA, drops away below you! It’s almost frightening how easy it would be to drive over the edge!! In fact, there are little cairns all along the escarpment, just to say “So far, no further”!
Ai-Ais was not what we’d thought it would be – nice enough resort, but stinking hot, absolutely baking in the long narrow valley at the bottom of the Canyon, hemmed in by blistering hot rocky cliffs : it was a real effort to walk the 100m to the swimming pool. And then to find the water was hot was the last straw!! To be expected, this is a hot spring (the source comes out the ground at 65C), but still disappointing. We did find that the spa had a cold pool however, so spent the rest of the afternoon under the roofed –in spa area in the cool pool.
Then off again in the morning, down the most spectacular road (the D207 which junctioned into the D212 just outside Aussenkehr): not a car in sight the whole day, just our two vehicles in lonely splendour. Fabulous drive, one of the nicest of our whole trip. Aussenkehr was a total surprise: on the banks of the Orange River, a wide swathe of green vines (we had to drive slowly because the ‘grapes were sleeping’), down toa delightful resort with camping on the river. Unfortunately they’d been hard hit by the floods: lost two chalets altogether, and another eight along the banks had water damage halfway up the walls! The sewage system had also taken a hit, but the manager Wynand gave us the keys of a working chalet, to use their ablution facilities. Again a great pool, so we mellowed out there. Took a drive up the “closed” Rosh Pinah/Sendelingsdrif road as far as the bridge: Jamie Connor and I waded out to the bridge itself and promptly got soaked when our feet got swept away under us – the current was still flowing strongly enough to knock us off our feet!
From Aussenkehr it was time to cross back into SA – John’s visa was due to expire on 30th, so we crossed at Noordoewer, back onto SA soil. Here Garth and Caren and the kids left us, turning right to go explore Port Nolloth and Alexander Bay, while we turned left towards Springbok, Augrabies and home.
The Augrabies Nat Park had also been hit by the floods – water damage to a lot of the walkways and viewing points for the Falls, which even now, two weeks after the main water, is still a spectacular sight! Bit of a hiccup at dinner last night, when the kudu pie we’d both been salivating over turned out to be dried up yesterday’s meal microwaved today, but the manager was at our chalet early this morning to apologise and refund us!
So, another two days and we should be home!
Spent the early part of the morning exploring the Falls - quite a sight after all the water they've had recently. Several viewing platforms destroyed, walkways washed away, the signs of torrential rivers of water way up above the normal level on the sand and rocks. Must have been a frightening experience, staying in one of the chalets while it was all going on!
So a latish start to the day, then a long and fairly tedious drive as far as we wanted to go today. We'd already decided to split the trip home into two, so there was no real rush. By the time we got to Olifantshoek, we'd both decided enough was enough, so pulled in here to Red Sands - great campsite about 30kms west of Kuruman.
The Desert Run guys are here tomorrow, so we spent the evening chatting with some of them, and watching in amazement as a couple set up camp - complete with hair-dryer, toaster, electric kettle - and to cap it a breadmaker. They needed a solar panel gadget as well as a small generator to run it all!! How the other half live.
The Desert Run is a pack of enthusiasts, they're expecting some 80 people, who take off on offroad bikes and dune-buggies to "hit the dirt" - all slightly crazy, but that's what life's about!
We're home! The adventure is over - unbelievable.
And having left Sevenoaks UK on Guy Fawkes Day 2010, we've arrived in Broederstroom, SA on April Fools Day - what does that say about us???
148 days, 25160kms (plus the ferry trip from Plymouth to Spain), 18 countries, 36 border crossings, 12 visas obtained - those are just some of a ream of statistics!
What about 5 languages spoken (or battled to understand??), 12 currencies used (as diverse as dinar, ouguiya, niara, kwanza, cedi, all with a different conversion rate!!), 99 nights spent camping in the tent on top of our landrover, 1 sleeping in the car in NoMan'sLand, and 47 in dubious rooms/B&Bs/hotels (some with water in the showers, most with none?
Or one brake fluid pipe broken en route, a pair of drive shaftes and one set of wheel bearings replaced, a clutch slave cylinder replaced - but not one single puncture in 25160kms??? I thought that said something, either about our driving or about our big fat Goodrich all-terrain tyres! And 2842 litres of diesel used - some of it rather grungy, but all driveable!
Three genuine fines, four serious scam/bribes/aggressive coercions, umpteen demands for money, food, liguor, anything of value - even our GPS at one stage! And more requests than I can count to either hold Huggy, take Huggy home, keep Huggy for ever - he was the hit of the trip!
Some 56000 people read our blogs over the 5 months - thank you all for your interest and your constant email and message support. It was invaluable: to fire up the laptop at the end of a long hot stressful day and find a "hi guys" in the inbox was a life-saver.
"Would we do it again?" seems to have been a constant recurring question. The answer is "Yes, but differently. And not this year!"
Huggy returned to his home, a tired and weary bear with much travel under his belt.
He has been a great companion on this trip - the spirit of Matthew was close with us wherever we were, and that was very very special.
Thanks tracy and Francois for lending him to us!
Different continent, different mode of transport, different world altogether!!
Here we are, Lavinia the land rover safely esconced in South Africa while we take off for points far further north on Al Shaheen, a 42 ft custom designed aluminium sailboat!
We flew into Halifax, Nova Scotia two weeks ago, refitted, launched, reprovisioned and finally set sail yesterday, our first day on the water for more than 9 months. Quite a change, from the steamy hot equitorial African bush to cold rain and enveloping fog up here! Now we're keeping watch for whales, polar bears and icebergs! (Latter a slight exageration, but it makes for a good story!)
The aim this sailing season is to sail part way round Newfoundland: we'll be crossing from Ingonish in Nova Scotia to Port au Basques in Newfoundland about 8/9th July, cruising the southern coast for three weeks or so, then make our way round the bulge east and north to St John's, and possibly land up in Notre Dame Bay to haul out mid September.
Of course, that's if all goes well. We made 38 miles yesterday, took 6 hours (see what I mean about differences in trips?? At least by road we went further!!), and came into Sambro, a delightful little commercial fishing port we've used a couple of times already. Only to discover that the quiet day we'd been having was not because no one was out on the water in thick fog on a Sunday, but because our VHF wasn't working! As there's no way we can travel these kinds of waters without a VHF to both receive and transmit by radio, he Harbour Master here has kindly taken John into Halifax to either get our exisiting VHF repaired, or more likely, use his already maxed out credit card to buy a new set.
That's what happens when you leave a boat alone for 9 months - she gets uppity!! Still other than that, she went like a bomb, absolutely no hassles at all - great to be back afloat and moving north.
If a little cold!
Monday 27th June 2011 39 mls Sambro Harbour 44°28’655N 063°35’980W
Turned out to be a work/lay day today. What we thought was a nice quiet foggy Sunday on the water yesterday during our 6 hour trip from Gold River Marina turned out to be a defective VHF radio! As this is a seriously important piece of survival equipment, the decision was taken pronto to get it fixed immediately! To Dartmouth for a bench test at Atlantic Electronics, courtesy of Paddy Gray, a most accommodating harbour master.
It’s fun being on the dock in a place like this – the locals come down in the evening to see who’s around, and the conversations can be a hoot!
“What’s that flag you flying?” queries a very overweight lady in shorts. “British,” replies a surprised John. “British? You mean like from England? Honey, these folks come from England!” A foreign country?? They have the Queen on their banknotes – and Will and Liz are visiting this week!
“You go to sea in that?” asks another youngster, baseball cap on back to front, beer in hand. (Lots of youngsters like that here – out of work fishermen?) Obviously only trusts the big rust-bucket trawlers we wouldn’t be seen dead in, because they seem too likely to fall apart at the first hint of a wave!! They’re astounded we actually go further than just up the creek.
Tuesday 28th June 2011 90 miles Little Liscomb, Nova Scotia 45°00’682N 061°57’914W
Woowee – a long 14 hour motoring day of bright sunshine but a chill across the decks, no wind but at least no fog. But 90 nautical miles achieved – that’s the furthest day trip we’ve ever done!
We left Sambro Habour, with a VHF neatly repaired, at 5.30am. Made our way out into what was a beautiful scene – the sun just peeping over the tips of the pines, rays of golden light splattering the water with topaz diamonds – okay okay, so there are some advantages to getting up early!
Once out past all the rocks and banks, we set course for a waypoint some 70 miles away, and just motored! Not a breath of wind all day, despite us trying hard to sail. Had the new mainsail up (it does look very good), and at one stage even poled the genoa out to starboard in the hopes of trapping a puff or two – niks nie! The sails simply flapped around lazily, doing absolutely nothing except clonk and waft: not once did they even look as if they might fill.
John did the early morning NE radio net at 8.30am – the OCC boats are slowly gathering, some ahead of us, some behind. Going to be a good rally, I think! Called up on Cruiseheimers for the first time this season, to a warm welcome. “My God, I thought they were dead!” says Dick Giddings.
Still 89.99 miles and 14 hours later, we pulled into Little Liscomb, and dropped our new 55lb Rocna anchor for the first time. And it dragged!!! Horror and consternation! This was not supposed to happen. Reset, using less chain, and it grabbed the mud and jerked us to an abrupt halt – that’s better!! Sleep calls.
Wednesday 29th June 2011 42.5 mls Yankee Cove 45°13’977N 061°09’651W
It was clear when we left the anchorage! And within an hour, the world had closed down to a circle off white fluff about 100 metres all around us – every now and then it lifts just enough to get us excited, then drops its blanket down again.
And no wind, not a breath. Think we’ll make an early day of it today – then take off for the rest of the day! This fog is not really fun, even though there’s no shipping around.
We inched our way into Whitehead Bay in thick thick fog, listening for the surf crashing on the rocks we could see on both radar and chart plotter but not in reality – not even from 20 yards away! Thank God for fancy equipment – frightening to think we did this the first time with only radar – and that before that old-timers did it with only their ears and their eyes!!
This did all lead to an ongoing conversation about the future – do we want to travel in these kind of conditions for the next few years? If so, what about a bigger dodger, perhaps even a hard one??? Something to hunker under at least, instead of standing in the cockpit facing the biting wind, being sploshed and dripped on by freezing cold condensation from the rigging and dampened by the fog? It’s a thought.
Of course, we could always go “down south” again for some warmth!
Thursday 30th June 43.2 mls St Peter’s Marina, Bras D’Or 45°39’670N 060°52’537W
At least we saw some signs of life today – several little fishing boats scudding around. Discovered later that they were lobster boats, pulling up the last of the traps as today is the end of the lobster season up here. Damn!
Thick fog once again, no wind once again, another motoring day. Despite promises of a SW wind midday – why do we even listen to this weather gurus, is what I want to know!
It’s a bit like coming home, here to St Pete’s. Everything’s familiar, same faces on the docks – so welcoming. Several OCC boats here already: anchored off are Tana Vika, Windjack and Saliander, on the dock are Lucayo and Maine Lady. And several more are already further up the lakes: we’ll meet them later.
A shower – wonderful hot water – and a load of laundry later, it was time to relax and pick up wifi. It suddenly struck me just how similar it all is, driving through Africa or sailing the seven seas – needs are the same: clean toilets, hot showers, laundry and wifi!!!
Friday 1st July St Peter’s Marina
Canada Day, and the fog keeps dissipating just enough to be tempting! But we’ll stay here today, provision tomorrow when the shops re-open, and then take off again.
Turns out Baddeck Marine (where we will all be congregating by Weds next week) has run out of fuel, so a call went out on the radio net this morning to that effect, suggesting that people fill up here at St Peter’s. All boats were contacted, and Windermere came back with a laconic “That’s fine, we only fill up once a year, and we’re already full.” Gasps of silence from all sailors with small tanks!! Oh for a trawler – mind you, you’d probably have to save up for a year to fill it!
Drinks aboard Nellie tonight for those of the OCC who are still here – some took the gap and ducked out through the growing sunshine and slight breeze, but we’re relaxing.
Well, we had fireworks in St Peter’s on 1st July, so it’s only fair we celebrate 4th July in Baddeck – as Doug off Bluewater says, “The tradition in Maine is the Brits buy the drinks!” Our retort was “Well, it’s your birthday, so you should be buying!”
We’d joined Sidereal Time and Nellie for dinner at the MacDonald Inn on 1st July – what a treat! A great meal, but a most amusing waitress. Real Nova Scotia, short and dumpy, middle-aged with spiky gelled hair, red-faced from the effort of serving 7 tables in the little intimate dining room, and with a tongue that could cut right through! We arrived at 7.29pm, to see a notice that said ‘kitchen closes 7.30’. “Are we in time?” asks Charlie. “You’re in the door, you’re safe!” was her retort. A few flustered minutes later, she was back. “Drinks?” she barks. The menu says Domestic Beer, so John asks what she’s got. “Domestic,” she replies, eyebrows raised. Turns out that it’s Keiths, so the next question is red or green? “You choose,” replies John. “I was going to do that anyway,” she snaps. Barbara wants scallops, which comes with a choice of rice, chips or twice-baked potatoes. “How do they do the twice baked potatoes?” she enquires. “Twice,” the waitress replies. By this time I am on the ground in hysterics – and the evening continued along the same lines – every time we said something, she had a retort or a quip back that had us all in stitches. It was a great evening!
The fireworks arrived just as we were retiring – it gets dark so late up in these latitudes that it’s way past our bedtime already! But they were spectacular for a little town of this size – quite a good few thousand dollars worth up in explosive smoke!
Saturday, after replenishing at Foodland (where the service includes a ride back to the marina in the owner’s car!), and we were off to Little Harbour, one of our favourite anchorages in the Lakes. Narrow entrance into an almost completely enclosed harbour, with a German smokehouse up on the hill. It was empty when we arrived, but then Windermere came in – huge 65 ft trawler – and we watched in awe as she dropped a 240lb rocna off the bow, (ours is 55lb!) then lifted and lowered her tender with an on-deck crane. Wow! Talk about boy’s toys!
A visit aboard for drinks later had John drooling at the engine room – John Richards (owner of Windermere) is a good 6’4 and insisted on something he could stand up in! For the next 24 hrs my John has been raving about the ‘pipework, the stainless steel, the ducting’ etc etc – I have to admit to be impressed with the fact that they have two offices (his and hers) in addition to all the normal staterooms etc and 3 freezer drawers – one of which is bigger than my entire galley! Lovely couple, they live aboard for 10 months of the year, and have a condo in Mystic – what a choice!
Dinner at the German smokehouse – Oktoberfest sausages and potato wedges – great food, great company.
Then off to Baddeck on Sunday, to join up with the other boats already there. The circus starts.
4th July! We’ve spent it in unusual venues each year recently – 2007 in Mabula Game Reserve, South Africa, 2008 in Sevenoaks UK, 2009 in Pocasset Cape Cod, 2010 in Trafton Island New Brunswick, now 2011 in Baddeck, Bras D’Or! Drinks at the Baddeck Yacht Club for those boats already here, under the auspices of the Stars & Stripes, albeit a small one.
Today is Thursday the 8th, and we’ve just officially kicked off the Rally with a slap-up dinner at the Lobster House – clam chowder, mussels to die for, and of course lobster. It can’t get better! All the “chickens” are now here, 24 boats, except Glide which was caught in Maine with radar problems and has been battling offshore to catch up with us: she will probably meet us in Port aux Basques in the next few days.
It has been a great time here – sorting the boat out, making sure we have all the provisions needed (frustratingly we’ve not been able to get long-life milk, so that’s a problem: John’s going to have to drink powdered or tinned in his Yorkshire tea!!), sending off the last last emails and doing the last last bits of internet stuff – not sure when the next internet access will be! Lots of socialising, lots of good eating, lots of getting to know all the other boats and their inhabitants.
This afternoon was a special surprise: at the Mughas’ home last night, Blair Grosvenor, great-grandson of Alexander Graham Bell, invited us back to the Bell homestead for a private visit – an honour not to be sneezed out and one greatly appreciated!
But now it’s time to move on – out at 5.30am tomorrow to catch the tidal flood through the Narrows and on to Ingonish hopefully by midday. Then across the Cabot Straits for some 9 miles the next day or so, and into Newfoundland!
Watch this space!
Port aux Basques, Newfoundland
I was at a party many many years ago in South Africa, and talking to a guy with an accent so thick I could understand only one word in seven. I did however manage to understand he was “a Newfie” and I remember thinking at the time, boy would I like to go there – opposite end of the world from South Africa, that’s for sure! Little did I know I would be sailing into the narrowest of entrances in Port aux Basques Newfoundland in the thick of night, after an unexpected 22 hours of crossing from Bras D’Or!
Friday was supposed to be a gentle run to Ingonish – but it was such a beautiful day, the sea so calm out in the Cabot Straits, just enough wind to tickle the sails, that it wasn’t long before someone was suggesting running straight over. And it only took Salianda to put up a spinnaker than we were all following suit, changing course for the Newfie coast and setting spinnakers! Sheep or what??
Great sail though – we held the spinnaker for a good 6-7 hours before losing the wind and motor sailing the rest of the way, to come into Port aux Basques traffic control area shortly after 10pm (from 12 miles out, you have to report in 3 times, at 12 miles, 5 miles, then 2 miles), and Bluewater and Nellie were already on the wharf to wave us in and catch our lines as we rafter up to Bluewater shortly after 12.30pm.(That has just raised an interesting discussion is it 12.30pm after midnight or 12.30pm after noon!) Imvubu had powered across with all sails plus two spinnakers – he is a ketch and was in by 9.25pm!! Then we had to sit up for the next boat (last one in waits for the next), and as luck would have it, three arrived almost simultaneously. So by the time we retired, 7 of the 10 boats coming to Port aux Basques were in, the others only expected in the early hours of the morning, so we crashed!
Saturday morning dawned gloomy, with gale warnings and 35 knot winds expected – thank goodness we all came over yesterday!! Of the 4 boats left in Ingonish, only one ventured out, and Sidereal Time arrived after a hairy last few hours about 8.30 Saturday evening. The others stayed put!
Saturday was spent sorting the boat out, cleaning up, re-provisioning – how did we eat so much food just from Baddeck??? Spent a goodly part of the morning moving boats around: in the end only Imvubu, Moonshadow Star (wow, what a neat manoeuvre from Sandy last night, coming into a tight berth at the head of the wharf between fishing boats and ourselves at the end of a very long night! Impressive helming, Sandy), and Rasmus rafted up to them, Twice Eleven and Morning Watch remained in the same places they were in last night. All the rest of us moved, Bluewater, Lucayo, Nellie, ourselves, Scallwag II, and Saliander moved across the harbour to anchor in North Western Arm (Sidereal Time joined them there later).
By 4pm, the rain was chucking down and the wind was building up! John and I were hunkered down, John catching up on some zzzs while I started knitting my new jumper – something other than computer work to do for a change! Popped across to Nellie just before the rain really came down to check with the Stitch Bitches (ladies in the group who knit have started a group!!) what and how to do, only to find our first and hopefully last casualty of the trip – Judy fell on the dock and thinks she’s cracked or broken a rib!!
Isn’t it amazing how small the world is? Chatting to Frans on Imvubu the other night about Soutpiel Safari, he suddenly looked at me and said “You were in Upington! Remember, I spoke to you at the garage?” And so he did – back in March at the tail-end of our down Africa trip, we had chatted with this big burly Afrikaans farmer who told us he had done exactly the same trip 15 years ago, on a motor-bike – now here we are, 3 months later, in Newfoundland and run across each other again, in a completely different environment!! Amazing!
So, Saturday night was a real bumpy night: some boats fared better than others. We were pretty snug, but we are all fitted together like sardines in a can. Rasmus had a raucous night adjusting shore lines (he had several lines running to each side of the wharf – Wolfgang’s world wide web!), Bluewater were up and down against the fish plant dock, while Antara over in Isle aux Morts dragged twice! However, all safe and sound on the morning roll call – still big winds forecast for today (Sunday) but the 3 boats in Ingonish are planning to leave anyway so should be in later tonight. And Windermere have gone further east – as John says when everyone tried to say, but the forecast isn’t good, “our boat’s built for that!” Maine Lady had gallons of oil” in her bilge this morning, and Ted;s not sure why, but between Phil on Antara and local entrepreneur Don Allen, it will be sorted.
The friendliness of the Newfies has been astoundingly evident from the minute we arrived – offers of lifts to “the Mall”, anything we want, anything we need, just ask. Half the town’s been down to visit, including two old guys in a beat-up pickup standing taking photos with an old camera who stopped me as I walked past. “Youse with these?” When I replied yes, they asked where from, astounded when I said South Africa. The one turned to the other and crowed. “Tol’ you! Junie said to come down to docks, furriners had arrived! Youse see!”
A very interesting visit today (Sunday) to the Port aux Basques VTS (vessel traffic services) centre: they monitor everyone coming in and going out of the harbour, and it was fascinating to see just how much information etc they have on us! We’re required to check in 3 times, and on the first check in they ask if there are any defects or pollution – Rasmus answered yes to the first as his bow light was broken, so they made him wait while they decided what to do! And there on the screen this morning is a full report of the incident – he was pleased to announce the light was fixed, and the operator checked him off!! Actually one time when it’s nice to know Big Brother’s watching!
Rose Blanche, Newfieland Mon 11th July 19.3 nautical miles N47 36’621 W058 41’604
Quiet night for most of us: stories are filtering back of more people dragging badly during the storm the other night, including Sea Bear and ??Maine Lady who both landed up on the rocks on shore: fortunately no serious damage to either we hope. Not fun!
And for Scallywag II and Twice Eleven, a 2am shout from the fishing boats leaving our little “tickle harbour” was a rude wake-up call: not too bad for SII, because they just their lines thrown back to them, but Twice Eleven found themselves being towed off the dock, lines still attached to the fishing boat!!
It was a beautiful sunny day today, and everyone took off for other coves and nooks and crannies: we’ve started a noon roll-call, just to try and see where everyone’s wanting to go, and some of the anchorages are very small and can only take one or two boats. So far so good – it all seems to sort itself out one way or another.
We motored across to Rose Blanche – absolutely no wind at all – to find the little spot we’d chosen had been chosen by several others already!! Windjack was tucked in right at the head of the anchorage, with Lalize at the entrance, and Moonshadow Star crept in and dropped anchor on the spot marked Al Shaheen!! Plan B – we tied up at the little fishing wharf, ahead of Etheria, and a bit later Tana Vika came just ahead of us. Well actually we had to move back somewhat, to fit two little fishing boats in first, then TV sat on the end – all nice and snug.
Unfortunately the blackflies realised almost immediately it was fresh meat day, and descended on us in their zillions! It was quite funny – you could see immediately who was local and who not – the non-locals were the ones waving their arms around continuously! Either the locals have become immune, or the blackflies have lost the taste for them – doesn’t seem to worry them at all. When I asked one old gent what they did for blackflies, his reply was succinct. “Stay in,” he replied! So I got my ‘bridal veil’ out, draped it over the cockpit and dodger, and stayed in for the rest of the afternoon – worked like a dream once I’d cleared the inside of the boat of all the bugs that had already intruded!
Etheria had moose meat aboard, a huge chunk which she could no longer keep frozen, so we and Tana Vika joined them to make short work of it. It came from Barry at Isle aux Morts, who had apparently spent the previous couple days dinghying around everyone and expounding local lore and local tales – sharing beers and moose meat wherever he went! Wonderful people.
It was supposed to blow, but we were pretty snug little bugs – no hassles at all.
Littlr Bay, La Poile Bay Tues 12th July 17.1 nautical miles N47 40’989 W058 24’162
Foul trip – but fortunately short! Cold, grey, lumpy sea, not a breath of wind – and then it started to rain. Oi vey – are we having fun yet?? Plus my coccyx is giving me hell – that’s what comes of stepping backwards off the companionway steps, misjudging and crashing into the edge of the galley – wrong place to hit hard! Means I’m constantly trying to sit on one cheek or the other – oh for one of those round cushions with a hole in that old people have!
Here in Little Bay, a long thin inlet with good protection from the SW (it’s supposed to blow up tonight), there are 7 of us anchored in a long line already: too bad for anyone coming late! And it’s pouring with rain – but we have our little Dickinson heater on, it’s warm and cosy, and we don’t have to go anywhere until dinner time!
It looks like a delightful little village ashore, but it was too wet and blustery to invite us ashore! Instead we had a gloriously amusing evening aboard Scallywag II, with Twice Eleven – delightful time. Bob and Ami told us the horrifying story of losing their boat in Eustacia: a freak wave hit them while they were anchored, turning the boat over, dismasting them, causing huge damage and some injury – really scary! David from Twice Eleven has this great British wit; dry and pointed and takes a second or so to catch the understated punchline – I love it! Mind you, Tamsin’s no slouch – when told that the Net was moving from 7.30am to 8.30am, her response was “Wonderful. Now we don’t have to take the vhf to bed with us anymore!”
Burgeo Wednesday 13th July 36.5nm N47 36’772 W057 36’427
Woke to a wet miserable day and reports of adverse strong winds coming against us tomorrow, so along with most of the rest of the fleet, we decided to make the run straight through to Burgeo rather than get caught flogging against the wind tomorrow. So, out after the Nets, onto a sea that wasn’t grey and cold, not as lumpy as yesterday but certainly not inviting – and at least there was no rain. Just a slight drizzle. So, long motoring passage, and we were weaving our way in through the back passage to raft up to Bluewater on the dock at the Marine Centre – very narrow little harbour, but quite protected from the sea and swells. Maine Lady need repairs done, so they are also here, tied up across the entrance to the travel lift, with Morning Watch inside the travel lift!! Rasmus is tied up to the old coastguard dock, while most of the others are anchored in Long Reach, a long narrow inlet accessible by a very VERY narrow passage. Looks fantastically well protected in there, but we’ve decided to take the dock option this time, and take the laundry/shower option.
Drinks on Maine Lady developed into dinner byob with ourselves, Morning Watch and Rasmus: I had made a huge pot of fish chowder, and Linda had a lasagne, so with salad, there was ample for everyone with second helpings. Another delightful evening, with the fog rolling in to have us all shivering only to disappear within minutes to leave a “sunny” evening again!
Fabulous harbour master here, June Hiscock, who has gone out of her way to assist and help. Several locals coming down tomorrow to take “tours” around – have to book one, it looks like a great little village.
Burgeo Thursday 14th July
Bastille Day, Dan’s birthday! Took a tour around with Gord this morning, local councillor – what fun! We heard all sorts of stories from him – he’s lived here all his life, used to be paid to bale water out of Farley Mowatt’s boat, got cookies and syrup for walking Carol Mowatt’s dog, his parents always told him he had to be past the pond by dark or else the three woman who’d drowned in the pond would get him! Some 1700 people still live in Burgeo, down from 5000 or so in it’s heyday when the fish plant was running, but it’s a vibrant little community with fishing boats still bringing cod in daily, a new (15 yr old) hospital - no babies born here, because mums are taken to Cornerbrook at least a week before their due date – but was able to treat Tamsin and assure her she didn’t have Lyme disease from a tick bite! He pointed out old houses in what was the original village, on pieces of land 80ft by 100ft (normal size!!) and newer houses on slightly bigger pieces. The last land sold here (2 years ago) went for $1000, and the last house sold, a fairly new 3-bedroom one on a fair piece, went for $70 000!!! Bargain at the price, that’s for sure.
Earlier we had watched Lesley (June’s brother) do a show-and-tell on some cod that had just been landed, standing open-mouthed in amazement as he took out the cod’s ears (which give them balance but are now used to make earings etc!!), then cut out the delicacies, cod’s tongue and cod’s cheeks! We bought 4 fantastic fillets, plus some cheeks – for the princely sum of $3. Guess what we’re having for dinner!
Imvubu called in with an engine problem that they’d managed to jerry-rig with a blow-torch and some tin cans, and Doug organised a space between fishing boats – really competent manoeuvre on Ralf’s part to park his big fat hippo between the stern of a fishing boat and the face of the dock – one up for bow thrusters!!
The rest of the day is a work day for me – John’s out catching lines for incoming boats etc. And we’re waiting for the internet to come up again – it has been down all over the island all day. The joys of living in the wilds. But there are caribou wandering around in the hills here, so what the hell – it’s a good place to be!
Burgeo Friday 15th July
Wild and woolly night last night – two gales in a week, not bad – even for Newfoundland!! The boats rafted up in the little marina area bounced and hopped, things flapping frantically in the seriously stiff wind (we lost a fender but found it on the opposite shore so no damage done) but those in Long Reach had a fairly noisy night, with several dragging (some several times!) and Windjack’s dinghy flipping over completely and dousing its engine in salt water for 30 mins or so before it could be righted. We saw some 38 knots in here, Long Reach saw 38-40 knots, and Moonshadow Star out in an anchorage about 4-5 miles away say they saw 42 knots. And it’s still blowing. The local fishermen here on the docks say it might, note might ease off by this afternoon!
And of course today’s the big Burgeo party day! June (harbour master) has invited about 40 locals for a meet ‘n greet and local supper of various fish dishes in the Fire Hall, followed by some Newfie music – no sex please says Doug on Bluewater, as it could lead to dancing! And with this wind, Windermere has kindly offered to run a ferry service, shuttling people back and forth in his big tender from Long Reach – no little dinghies want to venture across the Short Reach expanse of water in this weather, even though it’s only about 100m. The locals here call this sort of wind a blow-me-down – and I understand why!! I don’t envy the two boats still trying to come in today, Glide and Sogno. Not fun.
Of course that’s messed up all the plans for a Coastguard Station visit – they’re on standby obviously. And also the fuel truck was going to come in and refuel those who needed it, but there’s no way we can move boats around in this weather. So guess that MAY happen tomorrow.
Burgeo 16th July
The party last night turned out to be a real hootenanny – great fun! The local ladies had put on a fantastic spread of Newfie food, including moose soup (delicious) and scalded buns (hmm, not too sure about those!), and we had about a 50/50 split of OCCers and local Burgeons, all mixed up at each table, which made for some very interesting conversations!!
Elderly Rev George Childs kept us rolling with stories of “when ’is h’uncle went ‘unting h’artic ‘are with ‘is retriever”, and how the mozzies were so bad they took the sail clean off the boat – but next night they came back, all wearing canvass jackets!
Today was an exercise in logistics, as a fuel truck had been arranged at the old fish dock wharf, and the Morning Watch guys did a sterling job of getting boats into the wharf, tied up amongst broken docks and iffy tyre fenders, refuelling from a large nozzle fuel truck down into our little nozzle boats without spilling a drop – all very well done!
Lesley was on hand again at the fish dock to provide some red snapper for a good old South African braai on the dock – we’d borrowed a barbecue from a local man, and had an open-mouthed audience who watched in shock as Imvubu barbecued fish. “Barbecue fish?” was the general reaction. “Aauw naauw, we ‘on’t do it like ‘tha!”
It’s an education we’re getting here – learning a new language!!
17th to 21st July
I could do a day-to-day tale of beautiful fjords with narrow foggy entrances and long incredibly steep-sided rocky passages up these inlets – suffice to say that we spent the next 8 days going into one unbelievably narrow entrance in thick thick fog after the other, only to find a fjord more beautiful than the one we’d left the day before!
Uninhabited largely, except for the very occasional little hamlet of perhaps 10-15 houses, accessible only by sea, with perhaps 200 metres of rough road/track going from the garbage dump and back to town, but with people so friendly they’d give you the shirts off their backs if they thought you were cold!
Magnificent scenery, more waterfalls than I’ve ever seen in such a short period of time, some dropping veil-like over a steep edge from 200-300ft up a sheer rock face, some squeezing their way down through brush and trees and allowing only occasional glimpses of water, some cascading down in huge volumes of white foam over smooth slabs of granite – all equally magnificent.
So, Grey River, La Hune Bay, Aviron Bay, Hare Bay – these were the ones that tempted us on this pass – the rest we’ll pick up on our way back towards Bras D’or again in the next few weeks. We decided to take it slowly, rather spend 1-2 days in each place than move every day just to see it al.
Of course, every paradise has its snake – in Newfieland, it’s bugs!! Bugs, bugs and more bugs! A vital piece of clothing when you go ashore is a big shirt, one of those all-over fine mesh shirts that covers you from top to crotch – or you will suffer the consequences!
Sunday 24th July Grand Banks
After weeks of motoring, today promised some wind, so quite a few of us decided to “believe” the forecast and make the jump across Fortune Bay, from the south coast to the Grand Bank peninsula. Oi vey – the wind piped up and piped up, and by the time we finally blew in to Grand Banks harbour, our highest reading was 42 knots – a bit more wind than I appreciate! However, we made it safelt.
Glide, with Denis and Pam aboard, were not so lucky. As Pam was doing the noon Net, everything went silent – and several minutes later, Rasmus heard a very very faint distress call – they had been dismasted! Details were at first very sketchy, as all they now had was a handheld VHF which wasn’t fully charged! But with John initially co-ordinating, Moonshadow Star and Windermere were soon racing to the scene, and within 3 hours Windermere (big 65ft power boat) had her in town and they were on the way to Hermitage and a safe haven. As someone quipped today, the one thing that a sailing rally like ours really needs is a big powerful power boat!
Fortunately no-one injured: it could have been much worse, but it’s a sad thing to happen on a fun cruise. And has given us all a big wake-up call. Things happen so quickly, and you need to be perpetually prepared! As we were chatting much later that night about the necessity to have emergency stuff at hand, John suddenly said “Oops. I need to get our VHF out of my rusksack where I left it after we were climbing the other day!” Ja Ja!!!
So, we’re now trying to fit 2o something boats into a harbour that really is only geared to take about 5 – bit like packing sardines into a can, much to the locals amazement! We’re refating 3 up, with the biggest on the inside – the weatherman says there’s no bad weather coming, so that should be fine.
Watch this space!!
Things have settled down somewhat after the distress of Glide's dismasting, but we're all a little shell-shocked - how on earth does something like this happen, in the midst of a pleasure cruise?? We've all been checking our hand held VHFs and safety equipment, jumping a bit with nervous looks up at the rigging every time there;s a loud bang. Of course it doesn't help much that there is a huge fishing vessel towering above us in the harbour, that was completely disabled by a 70ft rogue wave - another reminder that the sea is not to be played with.
However, the good news is that Glide has joined us here in St Pierre Miquelon, having motored here on her own bottom as they say, and will be leaving tomorrow to make the trip back to either Halifax or Maine, winds permitting, in convoy with two other OCC boats as sister ships. Apparently the core of their backstay parted, and with the release of tension and the big winds, their mast simply broke off at the first spreaders. Very lucky not to have more damage!
We, as a fleet, had a great time in Grand Banks, if a somewhat sobering time. A small coimmunity, lots of ex-fishermen catching cod off the Grand Banks, every family one way or another has been closely touched by loss of life at sea: the ladies serving us lunch in the Memorial Hall were all widows, many having lost their husbands at a very young age - everywhere you go you are reminded of how many men, young anf old, fathers and sons, died to bering the fish to our tables.
But incredibly gracious - they went out of their way to make us welcome: we have made some good friends here.
Then it was over to St Pierre-Miquelon, two small islands off the coast of Newfoundland that are actually a part of France. So there was the whole check-out-of-Canade/check-into-France saga to go through as we brought 24 boats into a foggy tiny little harbour - as we tied each boat up, the police jumped aboard in their big black boots; very polite, very nice, but very official. Imvubu (the South African boat) has left, to make its way up throughb the North West Passage and across the top of the world to Alaska (didn't come here as the crew didn't have visas for France!), but otherwise everyone was here for the big final French dinner party to close the cruise down. Fabulous meal, great conversations, a fitting end to a great cruise.
We'll be back!
Of course there are the farcical things too - like David trying to explain to his UK bank how on earth he was going to sailo from Newfoundland to France in a day!!
End of a Cruise but not of a Trip
Some catching up to do here! The OCC Cruise officially ended on 29th July with a bumper French dinner at St Pierre, but we’re still cruising up here in Newfieland, hoping now to pick up on some of the places we missed on the trip east. Of course, we had a slight interruption when my Mum died – 30 000 miles in 5 days through 8 airports is not the ideal mode of travel, but right now we’re sitting anchored in Taylor Cove, Great Bay de L’Eau, heater on, listening to the wind howling outside, waiting for the sun to strengthen a tad so we can go exploring in the dinghy!
We have decided that Newfoundland definitely needs a bit more exploration, so will plan to be back here again next season. Maybe do a circle along the West Coast up to Codroy, across to Labrador and down the north coast of the St Lawrence; maybe as planned for this year, around to St Johns and towards Notre Dame Bay – we haven’t seen any icebergs yet, so we still need to do that! But that’s next year – I’m getting ahead of myself.
What have we enjoyed most this season? The incredible fjords, Grey River and Hare Bay stand out in my mind most dramatically: the wonderful people we’ve met. A special thanks have to go to Ronnie and Michele de Groot, who were so good to us over the time we had to scramble back to South Africa, and to Enrique the harbour master at St Pierre, who made a special trip to the airport to say goodbye and give me a condolence card. What fabulous folks. They are a breed apart, these Newfoundlanders – nothing is too much trouble, they are amazingly welcoming, they are a delight to meet. Of course it’s not quite so easy to understand them all the time – but the time taken to have a conversation is all part of the game!
Like the chappie telling us a story about” h’a big ‘earse” - that turned out to be “a big horse”!! Gave the story quite a different meaning. Or the local entourage of middle-aged/elderly guys standing on the quay who caught our lines when we came across into Fortune harbour – about ten of them, all lined up along the wharf, squabbling about who was going to take which line! When I asked if this was the Welcoming Committee, they replied “Ah no, we’s stands ‘ere h’evry night, jus watchin’”. Tied us up, had a half-hour chat (of course that’s actually ha ‘alf ‘our), then said “You’se be better off at d’ floatin docks – go up and down wit’ d’ tide, youse know.” So we cast off again, shoved off from the tyres acting as fenders on the concrete dockside, and went to the floating docks – where we had alarms going off all night as the tide dropped to 0.9 below the keel!!
We had a cracking sail yesterday, across from Fortune to Bay de L’Eau – started late as we had to wait for the ferry from St Pierre to come in. We’d inadvertently left our Newfie Cruising Guide aboard Narnia the day before (just as we left St Pierre on Monday morning, just raised the sails in a good brisk wind, and we recognised Narnia coming in – dropped sails, turned round and had a great lobster reunion with them before taking off again later in the afternoon), and Denis and Beenie had managed to get the guide onto the early morning ferry St Pierre to Fortune. Amazing what you can do in small communities where everyone knows everyone else – “just get it to Max,” we were told!
Bay de L’Eau is just another beautiful Newfie Bay – different in that it’s broad, with several little communities and anchorages along the edges, and quite a lot of aquaculture in the coves. The guide says there are abandoned outposts here, but the ones we’ve seen all look pretty active – perhaps the aquaculture is new. We’ve tucked up behind Devil’s Island in Taylor Bay. Delightful – the sun is shining today, first time we’ve seen that in ages, and the wind generator is howling along with a goodly breeze – supposedly 20-25 knots out there, but we’re snug in here. Raven (Jan and Nina) are here too, and John and Jan are going walking soon. Nina and I are respectively staying aboard, heads stuck in computers! We last met up with them when we both sat out Hurricane Earl in Princes Inlet, Mahone Bay in early Sept last year – it’s a small world, this cruising world.
John’s kept the OCC Net going, but only a few boats check in now: Antara are still up here in Placentia Bay, Bluewater, Glide and Faring are down in St Peters, Morning Watch is back in Jeddore, Saliander just out of Camden Maine, Sidereal Time in Halifax where Steve has had an unexpected detached retina operation, Windermere in Yarmouth en route to Mathegan – and the rest have drifted south, either back home or starting to make their way further south into the US and/or Caribbean. Feels strange to be left to our own devices again!
Jenny Crickmore-Thompson
+44 1732 457 299 (UK)
For all of us who travel with elderly parents left behind, there's always a worry - when will that phone-call come? Well, mine came last night, from my daughter in South Africa to say that my Mom had died, just 19 days before her 96th birthday.
In so many ways you can't regret her passing - she's had a great life, full of gutsy adventure and travel to what were forein places in those days - she graduated from ox-wagons and chairs-across-rivers to motor-cars and aeroplanes (not that she was ever really happy with the latter!), from reading by candlelight to computers and electronic wizardry.
And to the end she was full of life - in a wheelchair, arthritis-ridden, but continued to play wheelchair bowls once a week, do wheelchair aerobics twice a week, participated - and was the one who knew the answers - in the quiz mornings in her retirment home, played cards to the last. I guess she's up there right now, organising the family who's gone ahead of her into a morning canasta game!
We all learnt from you, Mom, and take great pride in having known you.
There are times when I seriously wonder why we do this, and this is one of them! Once again we are hunkered down, waiting for a hurricane to hit - hopefully this time we'll only get the tail of Irene as she screams up the east US coast, not like last year when we got clobbered by Earl! Take a look at www.nhc.noaa.gov for current up-to-date info.
We're sitting in St Peters, Bras D'Or Lakes Nova Scotia, and will be bstaying here until all has blown over. Secure, comfortable, good internet, laundry and shopping nearby - what more could you want in a hurricane hole?? And as usual, a good community develops around a potential catastrophe - several of the boats we've been sailing with have arrived here, and along with others, we have lots of people to talk to. And Sunday morning is organised - 9am we meet for pancakes and bloody marys, to watch the Belgian Grand Prix on the big screen in the club-house!
The past 10 days have been a delight, picking up many of the little places we didn't get to on the way out: McCallum, Francois, Grand Bruit, Squid Hole - and a return trip to Burgeo which turned out to be a little more than we bargained for!
You get blase when you go into a place you've been in several times before, and that's exactly what happened going into Burgeo again. The wind was blowing a bit of a hoolie, and coming in at high tide John and I were busy having a "discussion" about which side of the boat to place the fenders etc to tie up at the docks. Of course we had to go with the Captain's decision, so I had the mutters somewhat - aggravated when he yelled "Don't forget to opwn the gate!" "I never forget to open the flipping gate," I mutter (talking of course about the gate in the guard-rail we step through to get ashore. As I open it, I yell back at him snappily "Watch out for the patch of seaweed!" "What?" he yells, his deaf ear towards me. "The sea..." I yell, then lurch forward as with a crunch and crash we hit the seaweed-disguised rocks!!!
No hassle, it's not that bad a bump, and I grab the boathook from the stern and rush back to the rail to push us off, ll the while yelling at the Cap'n as to what to do. Of course he's yelling at me at the same time, different instructions, so neither of us are really apying attention. And I step straight out of the open gate and into the water! Fully kitted out in foul weather gear and boots, so am somewhat like a stone as I hit. "The boathook!" Cap'n yells as he rushed to pull me out. I'm too busy grabbing the rail to catch the boathook, so ignore that piece of information! Cap'm tries to haul me out - the sides of the boat are too high, I'm too heavy and he's too old - needless to say, we don't make it. So I have to hand-over-hand to the stern and haul myself out by the swim ladder which he''s just dropped. Of course, all this is done to the accompaniment of gales of raucous laughter from the unemployed gents lolling on the dockside!
Our other ventures into civilisation were a little better - Ramea is a little island community with a lot of activity, and we sheltered there for two days of horiid rain and wind, enjoying the company of Raven - we spent last year with them being punded by hurricane Earl. McCallum was great fun, being met by Herman (unofficial welcome committee to town) who rushed out to the dock to greet us and take our lines, but didn't know how to catch them or what to do with them when they landed on the dock in front of him! Francois (pronounced Franz-Way) had a festival on when we arrived, so we spent the afternoon watching local music and singing - bailed on the dance, because it only started once the ferry brought the band in at 9pm! Then across to Grand Bruit, abandoned outpost of about 50 houses, all completely empty but many still fully furnished - ghost town, quite eerie!
Then it was across to Ile aux Mort and Squid Hole, to wait for weather to cross Cabot Straits and get back to Nova Scotia. Eventually left in fog under grey skies, no wind, and motored the 90 miles or so across to Ingonish - managed to get the sails out for a couple of hours, but otherwise it was the drone of the engine that kept us company the whole way. A night in Ingonish, then through the long Bras D'Or channel into the Lakes, and we're now moored off St Peter's enjoying their hospitality.
Watch this space!
It never fails to amaze me how quickly you fall out of the habit of doing something! After managing daily blogs through the entire African trip, life (or should I say socialising!) has just caught up with me, and there never seems to be the time to get my thoughts down. Apologies to any who’re looking for something – and a smack on the wrist to myself for being so lazy.
I have just renewed my get jealous subscription for another 12 months, so I’d better get my money’s worth. So here’s a really quick potted catch-up:
Al Shaheen is sitting tucked up nice and snug in Gold River Marina again, after a fairly uneventful haul out and winterise. Bit of a blaps when the mast was taken out, as the crane operator swung the ball and clobbered the mast, bending one of the steps – very apologetic, but still meant a £35 replacement! She’s shrink-wrapped again: Jim Newell did an excellent job last season, and she was beautifully dry and clean when we got back this year, despite 9 months of snow, rain and drizzle. So we’re looking for the same for next year.
We got back to Sevenoaks to rather dreary weather at first, but pulled the faithful Audi out of wraps to go visit Emma and family. We’ve only done 400 miles since the last experience of breaking down on the M25, and what happened? Another breakdown, in almost exactly the same place!! Much non-English language flying, visit aborted, and another trip home in a very uncomfortable tow-truck. And another huge garage bill to sort out. Time to sell her?? But maybe she’s got the message, because the last few weeks we’ve had no trouble at all!
Off to Plymouth to go sailing with Rudy and Stephanie on Mary Kate: my first sail ever in England, and it was a lovely sunny two days, with enough wind to bounce her along merrily! Wonderful intro to sailing the UK coastline, Sutton Harbour to Fowey – but I was warned it “won’t always be like this!”
Quick trips to Lymington to meet up with the Pococks (Mike designed Al Shaheen, so very special), then to Cornwall to see more friends, back to London to hear Paul and Rachel Chandler tell their harrowing story of being kidnapped and held hostage by pirates off Seychelles/Somalia – have NO plans to visit that side of the world! Back to Blandford Forum on Sunday for the OCC Meet – great to catch up with friends seen only occasionally – at this stage, we definitely have a lot more friends in US/Canadian sailing waters than back here.
However, that will change! The current plan is to bring Al Shaheen back via Azores next season, and then travel the Baltic for a while. So we should be seeing more of UK sailors and the UK sailing scene.
At present we’re trying hard to contain the rash of electricity cable thefts back on my property in South Africa – have resorted to having a full-time armed guard hiding in the bushes from 6pm to 6am to deter would-be “affirmative shopping” – it’s all rather depressing! And even worse when we hear that Sevenoaks Gold Club, very upmarket jacket-and-tie stuff, have just had all their tee markers (beautiful cast iron pieces) have just been stolen! What is the world coming to??
So, making the most of the few spots of sun we see (it’s wonderful when it’s here!), looking forward to being out in South Africa next month. Time flies when you’re having fun!
This time last year we were just setting off on our big adventure - perhaps it would have been better to drive down again this year! We certainly hit the ground running when we flew back to South Africa. Well, not sure what we hit, but we certainly hit it!
After collecting the dogs (Obelix and Tollo, a biggie and a yappie) the next job was to evict the "tenants from hell" - and so they were! Moved in with not a dime to their names, 4 adults and 3 kids – the place is a garbage heap, huge snarly dogs partly chained up in the back, hubby and pregnant wife were sitting in the darkened lounge watching tv (midday on a Sunday!), a couple snotty-nosed dirty kids lolling on the floor. I introduced myself, acted surprised they were still here as the eviction notice had expired Sat night, and asked for the house keys.
Then the fun began. Strings of lies and stories, but I just stood.Eventually a back door set was finally produced, which I took, much to their chagrin. Things then got a bit heated re my furniture which they’d tried to take out of the house to sell – fortunately Garth and Tracy had acted quickly, called the police, and they were stopped. But then realised Hatton (my Malawian manager) was standing in the doorway observing all this, and from across the room yells – “get out of my house, you bobbejaan!” (baboon and highly insulting to any black person).
Needless to say both John and I blew a fuse. Before it escalated to my clocking him, Hatton graciously stepped outside and stood just outside the door. Amazing the difference between low class and high class, isn’t it!
To cut a long story short, they were supposed to leave Friday and will apparently pay next Monday. Believe that one when I see it. But at this stage, I just want them out. Even if they paid 6 months in advance, I would not have them on the property. Anyone with that kind of attitude is not welcome on Tandile, ever.
The rest of this week has been spent digging a 1.5m trench to relay the electricity cables we've had stolen 3 times in 3 weeks - this will be concreted in and hopefully that will make it difficult enough to dissaude the affirmative shoppers looking for their Christmas gifts. And laying down the law re our armed guard service - he who is supposed to be hiding in the bushes nightly to frighten off said shoppers - who hasn't been here lots of the time and is drunk when he has been here!! Don’t you love the idea of a drunken halfwit running around your property with an AK47 type thingie in his hands??? Have just had a night from hell trying to get them to do their job – John and Obelix sat in the bushes guarding of 100m of exposed cable until midnight, when the idiots finally turned up!
The veggie garden, usually my first port of call, has taken a back seat, but I do have tons of seeds ready to go in - just need the time to do it.. We have strawberries coming out of our ears, but not much else in there yet – lots of beans, some corn just starting, herbs taking over, but the rest of the area is pretty bare. Some hard work needed!
Spent yesterday and much of today sourcing new kitchen units, large wooden-frame windows and french door, and sorting out timing for the wreckers/builders to arrive - the existing kitchenette/shower/lounge is to be compoletely gutted and refloored/refurbished.
So, work programme in place already, with John up to his eyeballs in dust and dirt and the air blue around whatever area he's working in.
The dogs have taken a while to resettled - barked all night the first couple of nights – the lions were giving it stick, the donkey next door has been having an insomniac fit, the guinea fowl were attacking their food bowls and the wind was blowing shadows all over their territory - but they grab the opportunity of lying in every morning to catch up on lost hours! John is up at the crack of dawn, supervising Hatton and crew, while the dogs pass out in the lounge.
Off to face the tenants - watch this space!
Amazing how much you can get done in South Africa in a very short time with cheap black labour - immigrant of course, but still. And that's not any kind of non-pc statement, just a statement of fact!
From Monday to Friday, we have:
completed the trenching (100m) ie dug 1.5 m down, concreted and back-filled with rock and soil impacted down - no thieves are going to dig this up in a hurry - but then neither are we, so hopefully it never fails!
Cleared out the kithcentte/shower/lounge of all furniture (some stored, some in other two rooms in cottage, lounge suite sent for re-upholstery), taken down all curtains, curtain rails, pictures, John's blocked off all the existing plumbing (which included a toilet, shower, hand-basin and kitchen taps) and that has been removed, blocked off and removed all unnecessary electrics.
Knocked down two internal walls (one hardboard, one brick) and one brick cupboard. And cleared the rubble - managed to save most of the big breeze blocks they were built of to use in future projects (always another project out here!!)
Chopped out 38 sq m of beautiful slate flooring - natural slate, off the property originally, in huge chunks about 2x1.5m each - also salvaged and cleaned up for re-use (I want to build a "kitchen garden" next to the kitchen, using the slate as a base, with a fountain in the middle - sort of "calming" place for those days when it's definitely needed!
Today, the guys (we have 4 normally, 5 today because Chico, one of the room tenants, doesn't work Saturdays and is always looking for an extra buck or two) are carting out all the floor rubble to our "rubble mountain".
The kitchen fittings are ordered, the new windows are ordered, the new security trellis for the big french door is ordered, John will do the plumbing (and possibly the electrics depending on another quote in this week), and Morgan my wonderful builder arrives on the job on Monday. It will be his task to concrete, screed and then tile the new floor area, cut and fit lintels above all the openings (replacing 3 lots of windows and a french door), brick up holes left, re-plaster and screed the walls, and put a final coat of paint on everything.
Oh and we also have to paint the beams holding the thatch up - some are light wood, some dark - need to make them uniform!! What a palaver. And all to be finished by 15th December
Halfway mark with the renovations - boy, are we sick of the sound of hammering! But it's looking good, and almost all the destructive work has been done - Morgan our local builder-star is hopefullt doing the final breaking out today. That will be four windows and a patio door chopped out, replaced with 3 new wooden-frame windows and a huge set of French doors. What a difference!
Then it's on to screeding the floor tomorrow/Friday (so it has time to set over the weekend with no workers walking on it), and the tiling should start Monday. All systems go.
At the same time, I'm suddenly up to my eyeballs in edits with massive deadlines - oh well, at least that should pay for the repairs to the main house! Have to pull up the carpeting which has been wrecked by tenants, and tile throughout all bedrooms - that's 90sq.m of tiles!
Have had 2 guys working full time of fixing up the main house garden - it hasn't been looked after in the past 5 years of tenants, and with huge dogs running amok, the beautiful flowerbeds and herb garden I had there has been completely destroyed. So we've ripped everything up except the trees, sown grass, and cut off the portion that is fruit orchard so Hatton (my caretaker) can look after those and hopefully we'll get some fruit again. The six months or so we spend here is just never long enough to do all that's needed!!
It's been an interesting few weeks back here in South Africa, even apart from all the bulding etc. We have a bill attempting to be forced through Parliament which takes us back 40 years into apartheid-type censorship and secrecy - horrors to see it happening from an government which was so anti all that sort of thing! But the corruption and nepotism and back-handers that are the order of the day now are growing apace, and the government, instead of stamping it out, wants to cover their tracks so no investigative journalism can effectively expose it!
And our dear noisy boy, Juju (Julius Malema, leader of ANC youth league) has been ostracised and is effectively fading from the scene - suddenly there's no more news of his rants and raves! Is this a good thing? Who knows - if he has the huge grass-roots following he claims to have, it could mean a major shake-up at the next elections - but it costs money to run a politcal party, and that money here comes from big business - and I personally doubt big business will support the one who's claim to fame is to "nationalise the mines, throw the farmers off the land, give it all back to the blacks"! We'll see.
The property is looking glorious at the moment - we've had lots of rain, typical higveld late afternoon downpours when the heavens open and water thunders down for an hour or so, then disappears as quickly as it arrived! So the grass is green, the trees are all out in brilliant blue and purple flowers, the flowers are covered with butterflies of all shapes and sizes, the weavers are stripping my one big tree to build their nests - quite a scene. Always funny watching them - the poor male works his butt off, stripping a selected branch, finding strips of grass, carrying them back, weaving them into a really classy looking abode - only to have wee wifey come along and shred it because she's not happy with something - the style, the workmanship, the size - who knows!! He might build four before she's happy - and they say we women are picky?
We took the grandkids and dogs for a long walk down the back over the weekend - and had to have a serious de-ticking session afterwards! Must have pulled about 30 off Obelix (the big ridgeback), several off Tolla (little Yorkie-type yapper), and half a dozen each off the rest of us! It's tick season here now, and with the grass so long, they are everywhere. I bath the dogs every other week, Frontline them, and they both have tick 'n flea collars - and still collect them! One of the not-so-joyous joys of Africa!
Had a great weekend at a cottage next door, a most welcome offer from our neighbours and a respite from the dust and dirt. They have a pet donkey - and he was a great help with the barbecue! Also have a wonderful jacuzzi - needless to say, the current conversation is where do we put a jacuzzi now!!
Watch this space!
My my, some things change, but some things stay the same! Our blog from one year ago today reads
"Sitting under the palm trees in Zagora, Morocco, watching John service the landie while some friendly Germans in a campervan do their laundry in a nifty little gadget, sort of an oval cannister on a tumbler - fill with clothes, add water, sit with beer in hand and wind the handle to rotate!! I've done it the hard way - sent it off with Mohamed for his wife to do - when I objected to his wife doing my washing when I could do it myself, he said "Here in Morocco we have wife - and we have washing machine!" So she's got it - did the smalls myself, but she's got 10 days worth of jeans and shirts - bargain at any price!"
And here we are, one year later - and I still have a pile of washing!! Well, to be honest, it's a pile of ironing - I HATE ironing and avoid it any way I can - which usually means it piles up in a set of baskets until John starts to scrabble through looking for a clean shirt! We do have lots of ironing ladies here in South Africa - like most labour, you can find them cheap-cheap - but somehow I just haven't got to it this season. So Monday's task is - find an ironing lady!
The menagerie is slowly thinning out - have now found homes for the two black kittens - down to two ginger toms plus mother. They discovered trees today - what a circus! How I wish they could stay this size and this age - so cute!! But like all things, they grow up - bigger and more demanding, decidely less cute. But boy, size does not matter in the kitten/cat/dog world - these little bundles of fluff have our two big/bigger dogs totally pussy-whipped. I had to rescue Tolla last night, as he crouched cowering in the corner, tail between legs, too scared to step past mother cat in the doorway!
Joh n has been beavering away, and the Big Room is now starting to take shape nicely. Windows in, french door goes in tomorrow, tiling and plastering to start next day. The kitchen arrives on 12th - big excitement! It's all the odd things that take the time - I spent a couple of hours this afternoon shaving the thatch away where the kitchen window will open - and it took us about 4 hours last week to dig out and winch out (yay for a landrover!!) the stump of a huge syringa tree whose roots had grown under the wall next to the kitchen. We were gaily winching away when we realised we were likely to collapse the wall by uprooting the tree!!! And Morgan (the builder) had just plastered the windows in when John realised they were upside down - so had to be removed and resited. Oh well, all in a day's work.
At the same time, we're repairing the main house - divided the orchard off from the garden and fenced that in, pulled up the totally destroyed carpets in the bedrooms (tenants - I hate them!) and prepared those rooms for tiling - 90 sq m of tiles to be done next week. And in between, we chopped down about 6 large trees, shaved and shaped a whole lot of others, and decided which others stillneed to be removed . Avoiding of course the tree where the weavers are making their homes - we're up to nest 9, of which only 3 have been accepted by weaver wifey!
And in the middle of all this, the skype lines are burning up with calls to USA and UK re OCC matters, and I have deadlines for Dept of Education textbooks and author's manuscripts coming out my ears.
As John says, it's not a quiet life out here. Roll on January - we're taking off for Mozambique on a landrover trip - that is, assuming we have the papers for the landie by then!
Africa is another world - on the one hand, labour is incredibly cheap and very willing - on the other hand, you're constantly dealing with mishaps and disasters!
Our kitchen untis are in, bar the granite tops coming hopefully tomorrow, and look stunning. The floor's tiled - and looks equally good. The electrics have been done, the lights are up - and will also look good once we start to use them. The plastering's done ... well, therein lies the rub!!
The plastering's done, and we were both very pleased to get rid of the plasteres, messy bunch that they all are. It's been drying for a week, and today we started to put the first layer of sealant on - only to find the plaster crumbling away in our hands!! Big cracks - I mean BIG cracks - are running across the walls like spiderwebs - tapping the walls, they echo in some places, where obviously there is an air gap between the plaster and the wall. So now what?? At least two of the 4 walls need to be stripped and replastered?? We're both ready to spit, to put it mildly. Thought we'd have it all finished by this weekend, now it looks like another 3-4 days!
Other than that, things are going apace! 3 gardners out there with slashers and strimmers, cutting all the long grass (we're slashing back about 10 of the 50 acres, quite a mammoth task but it does look so much better. Not quite an English countryside look, but more of a shorn African look - would probably pay to rent some sheep for a few weeks! Have also cut down some trees, replanted others, shaped and shaved still others - we now have a great view of the Hartbeespoort Dam whereas previously we had to peep round the corner to get a glimpse.
The maintenance work on my main house is going well too - have tiled 90sq m of what was carpeted bedrooms, replaced and tiled the wooden sink surrounds, replaced broekn floor slasto, replaced a broken toilet - hwo do you break a toilet may I ask?? Now just have final painting and cleaning to do there and the house is ready to let again - or should that be ready for someone else to break again??
Lots of rain - so everything is green and blossoming - this is a pretty time of the year out year. Not too hot to have scorched the vegetation yet, lots of life and colour. The weavers have given up on our big yellow tree - the males keep making nests, females stripping them in a hissy fit - then the few that have been passed for inspection have promptly blown down in the big winds each night, so bang went female planning too! So now they've migrated to a thorn tree behind us, much stronger, much better habitat. Hopefully they'll actually get some babies bred this time round.
Our menagerie is slowly shrinking - now down to 2 dogs (ours) Mamacat and 2 kittens (left behind by tenants-from-hell) - just about manageable. Took Mamacat in to the vet yesterday to be spayed - he was horrified at her condition - said she'd been used as a brood cat, terribly anaemic, chest infection - anyway dozens of dollars later she's now on antibiotics and yellow pills and we're trying to keep the kittens away from her to stop them suckling - except she's a very concerned mom and keeps running back to them, regardless of her health. Mothers!
We're hoping to go off to Pilansberg for the long weekend on Friday - that's if I can drag John away from the now-needing-to-be-replastered walls! Sun City for granddaughter Jamie's birthday (Valley of the Waves !!), and camping out under the stars for the rest of the time. Sounds wonderful - just what we both need.
A beach weekend - 600kms from the nearest sea! Sun City's Valley of the Waves was out venue of choice for both a break from the grime and a celebration of Jamie's 13th birthday - God, a teenage grand-daughter: that does age me!!
Sun City is Sol Kerzner's creation, a "Lost City" carved out of the Pilansberg volcanic area in the apartheid days when Bophitatswana was a 'homeland' and self-governed without too much intreference from Pretoria, Africa's answer to Las Vegas, Imaginary, kitsch, glitzy, loud, bumptious - it's all of these and more. But it became the place to go when you wanted a bit of the 'naughty side' of life - sex across the colour barriers, gambling, living high on the hog - it all went down here. And was much appreciated by the fun-starved Calvinistic South Africans!!
So, in amongst the imported jungle (he transported hundreds of full-grown palm trees for the Lost City, and created a tropical jungle in the middle of the dry highveld - you have to give it to Kerzner for imagination!), there is the Valley of the Waves, a vast watersport area with Drop of Death slides and Scorpion slides etc for the not-so-faint-hearted, and the Wave Pool, 100m of imported beach complete with computerised waves that power out of the City's ruined walls at irregular intervals, ninepinning everyone in the path! It's a sight to see - large mamas, skinny papas, kids of all shapes and shrieking sizes, being pummelled by massive waves of water!
So, an enjoyable weekend in Maynane, the more sedate camp site next door, where we camped along with the family - and got to use Lavinia's tent again for the first time since we arrived back in Broederstroom all those onths ago. Lovely and comfortable it was - and yes, it did give me the itch to continue up the East Coast - or somewhere!!
Then it was back home for the last leg of the building work - umpteen hitches and squawks later (the granite kitchen top arrived, wasn't cut correctly and had to be returned for recutting, so we landed up with 4 guests for lunch with no kitchen!), we have a new living room and open-plan kitchen. Celebrations last night with the lamb roast (supposed to be cold for Christmas dinner!!), the tree is up, the cushions on the couch - no curtains yet, that's next year's problem. But it's a wonderful room, a real pleasure!
Our tree is a non-standard African Christmas tree - the stem and flower of a towering sisal plant, of which we have zillions here forming a protective fence around the very edges of the property, hung with traditional baubles - and a little globe with each grand-child's name in it, just to ensure they're all "with us" for Christmas!
Time now for a G&T - have a wonderful Christmas Day, lots of love and laughter, see you in the New Year!! I'll be seeing mine through slit eyes - I got walloped by wasps earlier, and my face looks like an about to explode balloon!!
Isn't it strange how when you're at home things just never seem exciting enough to actually write up on a blog - so it gets left ... and left ... and left ... and suddenly it's 6 weeks later and you're staring at a blank page in disgust at your laziness??
Oh well, no way am I going to subject you to a day-by-day blow-by-blow account here: suffice to say that we are now living extremely confortably in our wonderful new room, we had a glorious Christmas with many of my family here, had Jill come over to visit from the UK and have just spent a week travelling through the KwaZuluNatal battlefields and the Drakensberg. You see, it pays to have guests! Then the work HAS to stop, in order to entertain them!
It's been many years since I'd been to the battlefields, and while the sites are somewhat run-down and dilapidated, on the whole it was fascinating. We covered Isandhlawana (where in 1879 some1329 British soldiers were decimated in a disastrously stupid fight against the Zulus in about 6hrs), then moved on to Rorkes Drift where some 12 hrs later 139 soldiers of the same Brit force defended a mission hospital against 5000 Zulus to win 11 VCs with the loss of 17 Brits and maybe 500 Zulus, From there drove only a few miles to the site of the battle of Blood River, when the Boers had met the Zulus and effected what they thought was a decisive victory over them in 1838, some 40 years previously. So much bloodshed - and for what, is always my thought? Because now, in 2012, the Zulus are still living on this same land; in fact they now own it "voetstoets" as we say in South Africa! And just across the river from the Boer Monument (an impressive laager of 64 full-size bronze wagons), the Zulus are building their monument - to tell their side of the story. More bloodshed to come when they all arrive on 16th December to celebrate??
Once all the building work was finished, the labour force reverted to being gardeneres, and for the past 3 weeks we have been chopping down alien trees, uprooting bushes to clear some of the "jungle", strimming and slashing 50 acres of grass and bushland - it's not a small job! And with all the rain we're having, as fast as they cut, it grows up behind them! Still, it all looks wonderful - the veld is ablaze with flowers, the grass is green, everything is unseasonably lush. A harsh winter on the cards?
And of course to add to the excitement, I've been up to my ears in edits and school-text books, all with very very tight deadline - and John's been swamped by masses of paperwork, skype calls to US/UK and every other place imaginable, computer searches - all connected to the new job he's taken on, that of Commodore of the Ocean Cruising Club! The outgoing Commodore laughed and said it was a doddle, except for a few headaches. Well, more than a few - but still, they don't know John when he gets his teeth into something!
Roll on June when we can escae to the boat and some calm seas"
Back in the UK - has it really been 5 months since we hit the South African highveld and started our work campaign out on the farm? Well, we're back in the UK again, so I guess it has been - my, how time flies when you're having fun.
All projects done and dusted; a brand-new living room and a 50 acre property that looks wonderful after all the rain and care we lavished on it (we planted more than 50 new trees while we were out, never mind re-established the kitchen garden to feed the four staff left behind), new and reliable tenants in the houses, the landrover finally sorted out - not to our satisfaction, but that's life!
We had some great times: a 6 hour drive to Midmar to watch son and granddaughter swim the Midmar Mile amongst 16968 other lunatics, a wonderful week's trip with Jill from Sevenoaks to the Natal battlefields and Itala game reserve; a weekend spent with some zillion landrovers in an attempt to beat the Guiness World Record for the most landrovers in one convoy - 1007 started - well, one didn't start, 3 crashed into each other and one broke down - but 1001 finished the 24km course! Not bad!! It'sa lot of land rovers in one place!!
Now it's back to the UK to pick up with culture and the OCC: John is about to be appointed Commodore of the Ocean Cruising Club, a position we were told would be a "social one" but which has turned into a vast amount of work. Still, very encouraging to see all the enthusiasm and vibrancy which has greeted his term - it should be a good one.
Here in the UK I spent the first day back having my hair cut, joining the local gym, setting up my computer for the next few month's work. The view from the window is of daffodils just popping up, buds on the chestnut tree almost appearing, and a rather dry garden: water restrictions are due to start 1 April, as England is in the throes of a drought. Seems so strange to me, to say those words - drought to me is something that goes on for 7 years at a time (Africa-style), not 7 weeks!
Watch this space!
Seems to be the rainy day job, catching up with the days/weeks/months that have flown past!
April and May were a blur of OCC activity (that's Ocean Cruising Club for you landlubbers who think we're still on four wheels!). We rushed back earlier than usual from South Africa in order to prepare for and be present at the OCC AGM and Awards Dinner at the end of March - a fabulous event you can read about on www.oceancruisingclub,org - and dive into Committee matters and strategy planning. I should have known that hubby John could never take something on without getting his hands dirty and this was no exception: his appointment as Commodore of this prestigious group of ocean sailors was just the excuse he needed to turn the venerably starched echelons upside down and shake them out!
That entailed hours of long and complex international skype calls and gazillions of emails winging their way back and forth across the Atlantic and Pacific and Indian Oceans: stirred some pots, ruffled some feathers to be sure, but all in all by the time we stepped ashore in Nova Scotia earlier this month, all sorts of really good things had happened and there was an OCC buzz that could be heard clear round the globe. And more to come - wth this space!
At the end of May John and I stood in Plymouth and waved goodbye to the 29 small boats (between 20-30 feet) taking off for the Azores, a 1200 nm trip - singlehanded, and with many of them having no modern technology at all aboard! Trevor Leek for example, has nothing except a small radar alarm which will hopefully tell him if another ship comes too close - other than that, no radio, no vhf, none of the electronic gadgetry we find so essential for sailing these days. 13 retired, either from storm or collision damage, 14 had arrived in the Azores, and at the time of writing some 4 weeks later we're still waiting for two laat-lammetjies: Edward Zarjac and Trevor Leek. God speed guys!
The event of the summer in the UK was obviously the Queen's Jubilee, and we did our bit for Queen and Country by braving the rain for the Thames Pageant. Well actually we cheated, staying warm and cozy 12 stories up in a penthouse overlooking the Thames, but still. The thought was there! We've bailed for the Olympics though - will watch that on TV.
A quick trip for me back to South Africa first, to enjoy the fruits of a family get-together first mooted April 2011 - some 100-odd (dare I say some very odd???) family members spanning 5 generations - the Pickens of Ngeleni and Umtata had and continue to breed well. Wonderful to meet up with cousins I haven't seen in 20 years, and catch up with their lives - and expose some of the family skeletons rattling away in the closets there!
Now it's back to Al Shaheen, our beautiful 42 foot sloop who has spent the past 9 months cocooned in shrinkwrap in the cold of Nova Scotia! Unwrapped, her mast stepped back in again, all the sails bent on and all systems overhauled, she was launched last week and is champing at the bit, raring to do what she's meant to and sail the seas.
But the weather's turned foul - and I'm a wimp sailor (don't go if the weather's bad!!), so we'll hang and wait for tomorrow! And we're completely spolied here in Mahone Bay - a wonderful little cottage to live in at Indian Point for the first part, a condo in Mahone Bay for the latter - who wants to stand on a wet deck with rain dripping down your neck and fog curling your toes when you can be inside, warm and dry, cup of coffee in hand, watching Wimbledon???
Maybe tomorrow?
Oi vey, what do they say about the girl who's all dressed up with nowhere to go?? Well, we're all dressed up, fridge fixed, all jobs done, fresh food stowed away, lots of places to go - and we have a leak.
I'm a great believer in seawater remaining outside the boat, not inside - in fact I feel quite strongly about it!
It's only a little leak - well, about a litre every 30 mins - but it appears to be a weld, probably wear and tear as a result of that smash all those years ago down in Nantucket. And until we've had it examined and checked - and fixed - I guess we're going nowhere!
So, the Mathegan Shipyard are hopefully coming over sometime tomorrow to have a look, and we'll have to be hauled out again so that they can bring along a mobile aluminium welding set-up and do the grinding and make the repairs on dry land. Unfortunately this is Canada Day long weekend - so nothing really will happen before Tuesday. And of course we've given our rental car back so we're a little stymied for travelling around.
Oh well, I wanted the time to finish an edit, so there you go - beware what you wish for!
Amazing how much can change in a week! From being ready to hand Al Shaheen over to the first person who smiled at her and said "what a beautiful boat", we're already working out where to haul and repaint, what refurbishing needs doing, how much money to spend - and the plan is definitely to keep her and sail many more miles!!
So what's the change? Well, Metegan Shipyard came over with their mobile apparatus and did a fabulous repair - all sorted and absolutely no problems there: the hot water heater still is spewing water but we have a replacement waiting in Camden (and I guess we can live without hot water showers for a while!). All other systems 100%, no hassles - the sun's shining, and we've moved east, taking three slow days to potter along the coast from Gold River Marina to Le Have Islands (behind Mosher) the first night, then to Carver's Beach the next, and in to Shelburne last night. Didn't actually get the sails up, as there was very little wind and what there was was dead on the nose, but we're out, we're moving, the sun is shining, and Al Shaheen's wonderful!
So what's the plan now? A couple of days here, visiting with Alan and Jan Pulfrey, OCC Port Officers here in Shelburne, waiting for Jan and Nina Kiff on Raven to arrive from Cape Cod (left yesterday morning, should be here tonight), catching up with emails (178 after 3 days offline - oi vey!!!). Then we'll move on Down East to explore those little islands and hidey holes there. Only time we were there was when ducking out of the US because we'd overstayed our welcome by a couple of days!
Gold River Marina was, as always, an absolute delight - Cindy, Darren and Johnny are fanatsic folks to deal with: nothing is too much trouble, everything always has a solution! GRM is agreat little marina - nothing to shout home about in terms of fancy equipment etc, but boy, do they make what they've got work well. Plan probably is to come back and haul out here at the end of the season, but as always plans can change - that's why they're written in pencil.
Every time we come to Nova Scotia there's this incredible tug to move here! We have a lot of friends here, Mahone Bay is just such an incredible place to have a boat - lots of little islands, lots of places to go, and an easy jump-off for both the USA and Newfoundland - and I guess if we're really energetci, back to the UK/Europe! A northern summer home in Nova Scotia and a southern summer home in South Africa?
Watch this space!
A joyful reunion in Shelburne with Jan and Nina aboard Raven (first met in Princes Inlet waiting out Hurricane Earl, last met in St Peter's Bras d'Or waiting out Hurricane Irene!) - great to meet up with them again. Jan and Alan Pulfrey (POs for Shelburne) laid on a fabulous barbecue for us all at their new place - they live as Alan says on the West Bank of the Jordan, but in slightly more peaceful surroundings than the other West Bank.
Then it was off across the Bay of Fundy, aiming for the USA - an overnight, absolutely no wind so we eventually dropped the mainsail we'd so bravely and enthusiastically put earlier in the day. It was a long passage for some reason - I didn't sleep at all, despite the 3-hour watch programme; just not geared into the pattern yet, I guess. John of course crashes into snoring splendour as soon as his head hits the pillow - boy there are nights when I long for that ability!
We motored into Jonesport as dawn was breaking, having slowed down and actually done a zig-zag for a couple of hours so we wouldn't get to lobster pot territory until it was light enough to see them. Jonesport IS NOT a port of entry any more, despite still being listed on the US Customs and Immigration website as such! It is also a fairly unfriendly little backwater - we couldn't get the anchor to set, so eventually tied up to a seriously derelict-looking lobster boat on a huge mooring, thinking we'd be okay for an hour or so until Customs came down. Well, it took Customs 6 hours to get to us, and then only after much gentle convincing, and the lobsterboat owner came over to take off - but fortunately couldn't get the motor to start so eventually abandoned the day!
Once we were officially in the US and now had out cruising permit etc, we took off for Roque Island and two days of absolute delight, at anchor off Twin Beach in complete privacy - John collected a bucketful of mussels the second night and we had a mussel feast!
Then over to Mistake Island - the fog rolled in just as we dropped anchor, and it was peasoup within minutes. Even the seals were complaining; there is a huge rock shallows just inside the entrance, and when we came in at low water it was coated with brown seals basking in what was left of the sun. They were not happy when the sun disappeared, and we heard them coughing and barking for the next couple of hours! We also had a great interchange with two young boys who dinghied over from their parent's boat; totally unimpressed by the explanation that New England actually began after the Pilgrims had travelled from the "real" England - they were American patriots, and of the firm conviction that the New England in the USA was THE one!
From Mistake it was another foggy motor over to Winter Harbor, to meet up with David and Merette Cunnigham and their daughter Sarah - old friends of John's from university days. Good conversation, great to catch up, a somewhat snooty but very beautiful yacht club and an incredibly rolly (and expensive) anchorage - we've crossed Winter Harbor off our list of exceptional places to visit! We got out of there as dawn broke, delighted to leave.
Around to NE Harbor on Mt Desert Island - we've never visited the other anchorages on Mt desert, always aiming for SW Hbr and old memories (we got married here 7 years ago!), so it was time to try something new. NE was busy - lots of moorings, lots of floating docks, but a nice enough place to visit. We caught the LL Bean free bus into Bar Harbor and bought a phone and some gifts, then back to the boat to do the catch-up with the world thing. Good wifi for the first time in a week, so it took hours to download and reply to emails - do laundry, get some groceries, generally restock.
Then around to Somes Sound, again a first time for us. What a delightful little anchorage right up at the head of Somes Sound! Seals in the bay, lots of kayakers, John went off to catch the bus and do an 11m hike over Cadillac Mountain while I attempted to clear the backlog of edits etc (any excuse not to go hiking!!). I watched in amazement as Bob Hochstedler (PO for Beaufort,SC) had to get a big lobster boat with a diver aboard to take the line from a caught lobster pot wrapped around his prop - what a pian these lobster pots are! Folks say there are less this year, and the lobstermen are complaining about only getting $1.50 a pound for their catch - but the little lobster shop in NE Hbr still wanted $8 a pound for live lobsters!!
And here we met up with Pam and Bill Kellet on Jura, old CCA/OCC/RCC friends. A delightful dinner aboard Jura, with John Sharpe (Ocean Grace) who is up at Abel's Yard doing some work on his boat. Much good conversation!
Finally today we'll go over to SW Harbor - old stamping grounds and much history!
Apologies, we're off back to South Africa again on Saturday (by 747 this time!), and will catch up with recent activities. However, for our Soutpiel Safari (London to Johannesburg), please start back at 30 October 2010 entries.
Our time in South Africa has been as full as usual; not with building projects this time, as we decided this time round we were going to take a break! But with medical “upgrades”, family visits, the usual Christmas rush-around – plus of course just a little bit of building work thrown in for good measure! Didn’t really think I’d get away with it, did you??
The medical stuff was all fairly innocuous, if time-consuming and miserable. I developed a frozen shoulder, which the initial ‘rugger-bugger’ of a surgeon decided needed immediate surgery – his consultation consisted of a poke in the offending shoulder, a smirking “does that hurt?”, and a terse command to make an appointment with the receptionist for an op tomorrow before he went away on a month’s leave. When I queried what was wrong, his comment in a nutshell was “It’s a need to know scenario; I know, you don’t need to!” So I scrapped both him and his op and wished him a merry Christmas. Found another surgeon, who was excellent, did a very thorough investigation, said an op was definitely not on the cards, what I needed was lots of physiotherapy, some exercise and a good regimen of initial medication for the chronic pain. It worked – some 6 months later I have almost 90% movement back in my shoulder.
John did all the 1000 mile service things, new glasses (verrrry expensive so he better not drop them overboard!), an ingrown toenail op, check-ups etc – all of which resulted in a change of Medical Aid companies too, a good thing.
In between all that, John and Hatton managed to erect a shadecloth covering for our vegetable garden – at some 18m by 12m, it is a large garden, full to the brim with all sorts of goodies, but constantly being raided by birds and monkeys. Time to call a halt! It was a huge rigging job, but at least he could draw on years of sailing experience and the handling of large pieces of canvas. The result is fabulous – and merited a new installation of piped overhead water spray as well.
We have found two new sets of tenants, for the main house and the flat; gingers crossed all goes well this time. But with the future in mind, we have also now applied to the Province to sub-divide Tandile, with the front 5 hectare being divided off from the back 16. This would include the other 3 dwellings, which could one day be sold as a single unit.
Then it was visitor time! James and Ilse arrived from Brussels – his 70th birthday present from the family was a trip to Africa, and we were their hosts. Kicked off with a very luxurious 3 days in Kapama, being waited on hand and foot, fed 5 times a day and carried out in immaculate open-top vehicles to view the game very closely! Not quite the style John and I are used to, I have to say, but it’s amazing how quickly you can get used to luxury!! Then all the usual Joburg tourist things, Soweto, the Apartheid Museum (where I managed to fall down a flight of stairs and crack my skull!!), etc etc before bundling them off to relatives in Cape Town for a week. We joined them for the last few days there, met more relatives, did some more sightseeing – and generally had a great time. I think they did too!
Just a short week after that and Tom arrived from the UK, John’s second grandson – once again it was a round of meeting up with cousins etc (are J’s grandsons my grandkids’ cousins?? Not sure of the relationship! But they all got on well, so who cares!). Off to Gold reef City, with strict instructions from everyone NOT to push Tom to do any adrenalin-busting activities – well, well! Guess who was the most surprised when not only did he do every ride including the Tower of Terror, but he enjoyed it!
Then it was down to Ndumo and Kosi Bay with Garth and co, to show Tom the Natal coast etc before the three of us (that is John, Tom and myself) did a five-day hike in Mfolozi Game Reserve. That was an experience!! Sleeping out under the stars, taking your turn to stand watch and keep the fire burning as everyone else slept, breathlessly wondering if that crackle in the bush was a leopard creeping up, a rhino shuffling along en route to the river or just a frog hopping over the dry leaves! We saw an unbelievable abundance of rhinos, far more than Nunu our wonderful little Zulu guide expected. Also far closer than was always comfortable: Tom’s remark on the 3rd day was that he’d “like to see more impala, less rhinos today please.” But it was a priviledge – as Nunu remarked emotionally over the campfire one night, Tom might be the last generation to see rhinos in the wild. Somehow that comment packed a real punch!
As always, all too soon it was time for our South African life to shift back to the UK – we left the warmth and sunshine and made for what was fast turning out to be the coldest Spring in living history. Snow, rain, wind – John and I went into our usual dance of “turn the heating up, please!”, all the while trying to clear the attic and the garage, get rid of “stuff”, keep the OOC fires burning and arrange and attend various functions in official Commodore capacity – in the first 5 days of being home, we had 4 lectures, a radio interview and several magazine interviews all for Matt Rutherford, the American circumnavigator we’d brought over, then it was rush into the OCC AGM and Awards ceremony and dinner on HQS Wellington – and lots of social activity to fill in the gaps in case we felt bored!
It looks like our Sevenoaks house has been sold; a youngish couple with small kids, so it appears the street is changing. But it all needs to be done chop-chop, as we leave soon to sail back, and would have to move our furniture into storage first. All somewhat tense, as the solicitors and banks quibble and the chain of buyers is drawn taut. However, if the deal is not done, we’ll simply withdraw the house off the market, and start again in August when we get back.
Actually, I’ve got to the stage where I’m almost looking forward to an ocean passage, just to get away from all the pressure. Almost, I said!!!!
The next part of the adventure starts!
8 Plymouth Park, John’s home for some 30 odd years, was sold on Friday 10th, Emma and family visited for the last time Sat/Sun, the moving van took everything off to storage on Mon/Tuesday, John flew out to Nova Scotia on Wednesday, the new people moved in on Friday 17th– it was a fairly full week!
I have a further 9 boxes of files to put onto an excel spreadsheet before next Tuesday, then those 19 boxes go up to Glasgow to the OCC Historian, and I fly out to join John in Mahone Bay and finish getting Al Shaheen ready for her second Atlantic crossing.
Of course, when John originally sailed her across to the Caribbean via Canaries, it was with a one-year circuit in mind; the Caribbean, East Coast of America, back through the Azores to the UK again. That however was in 2002 – now finally, 11 years later, she’ll be coming home – lots of water under her keel, lots of stories to tell!
So, we are now homeless in the UK – the plan is to rent somewhere fairly close to Emma once we get back to the UK for a few months, then start looking in earnest for something to buy. Strange feeling really, not having a definite base, but quite liberating! Where will we land up?? Devon? Berkshire? Scotland? Lake Districts? Ireland??? What about Nova Scotia? Or should we buy a canal boat and explore the inland waterways for a while??
Watch this space!
How wonderful it is to come back to Mahone Bay, to step back into Indian Point - it has such a home from home feel for me! Even though it's cold and raining and foggy - there's a warmth and friendliness that just calls - stay, stay,stay!John has worked extremely hard in getting Al Shaheen ready for the big jump back across the Pond. Launched, mast up, rigging and sails on: he's done a lot of extra preparation in sorting out new safety features - now it's time to provision and get the inside sorted!Logistics sorted, it's time for some social life! Jan & Alan dropped in for lunch on their way from Shelburne to Halifax, accompanied by a beautifully glossy Bailey who happily stayed in the car once she'd had her treats: Denis and Beenie spent an evening making us feel very glad we had hauled out at Gold River and not Lunenburg Foundry - they have a disaster story to tell about the care of Narnia! And last night we had dinner with Gene and Jo-Anne above their wonderful delicatessen, fed by all sorts of goodies chosen from the shop below - wonderful food and good conversation. The diary's filling for next week - it's great to have such good friends here, so far away from both England and South Africa. What did I say about a home from home?
Amazing - that list of jobs only gets longer, no matter how many you actually cross off! Where are those little elves that come in at night and do all the work when you need them?
However, things are slowly but surely becoming ship-shape: we've done all the big jobs, now down to the littlest. And took Al Shaheen out for a bit of a shake-down over the last few days, ironed the wrinkles out the sails with a cracking sail around the Bay, tested all the systems, tied up to a trawler for the night and then anchored out the next night - everything works, even if we are a tad rusty on remembering some things! But it's like riding a bicycle, you never really forget and things fall back into place quite easily.
Disaster first morning out though; I heard John doing the early morning radio net (4045 at 7.30am)' then heard some shuffling around and suddenly some choice language. A few minutes later he crept into the fore cabin with a very doleful face. "Sweetheart, we have a serious problem," he announces. Shades of the leak that appeared last year flashing through my mind, I was half out of bed when he says "Your espresso coffee pot is not working, no coffee, sorry." Well, after I'd hit him with the closest pillow, we had to have a discussion - no way I can cross the Atlantic without real coffee! So, in large capitals, the top of the job list is now: find a new coffee pot!!
We've had a great social time, trying to catch up with all our friends before we skip away. Lots of good meals out, lots of good conversations, lots of special time spent with special people. Peter Dodd has set up a going-away party for us, to be held on Young Island, with hopefully most of the folks coming in their own boats and anchoring off. What fun! They have been so so good to us - letting us use their little house at Indian Point, fetching and carrying, picking up bits and pieces - and guess what, today Peter's in Halifax at the Italian market and I have a new coffee pot! Love you, Peter!
Ken arrives on Friday, and the plan is to leave by approx Sunday/Monday. Of course, looking at the weather this last week, it would have been perfect to have left already! C'est le vie! Tried to raise Herb over the past few days, with no luck - I do hope he's still around as he's one of our key weather forecasters.
And always running in the background are all the OCC issues: I'm running around getting the POs organised for 2014 rallies, Daria's going great guns getting all sorts of things happening in her new PPMER portfolio - what a breath of fresh air she is! And John has a string of admin and financial and legal stuff going - but all with enthusiasm, none of this drag of the past months. As promised, the OCC has become fun again!
So, please Lord, send some sunshine and fair weather for the next few weeks - I really fancy a nice easy trip to the Azores! Suddenly it's close, actually happening - I took a peek at Google Earth last night and freaked somewhat - that island of Flores is just a tiny dot on the huge Atlantic - jeez Louise it looks small enough to miss!!
OI vey - Murphy strikes again. After a week or so of fairly good offshore weather, the plan is/was to leave for Flores, Azores sometime after Sunday. Ken Baker (our stalwart crew) arrives today (Friday), Peter & Terry are throwing a spectacular Going Away party on Young Island for us on Sunday, and we'd be off as dawn cracks Monday morning. Except now that Tropical Storm Andrea, the first of the season, hits Nova Scotia Saturday, and Chris Parker the weather guru has just emailed to say if we leave Sunday/Mon we'll have no wind for the first 48 hours, then get hit by three gales in quick succession before reaching Flores!! The option is to wait out the first gale, leave on Weds monring, then we'll only get hit by two - the middle one over the weekend of 15/16th potentially being a storm with 50 knot winds. So now it's decision time! Although I have to say my immediate wimp decision is to buy a 747 ticket to Ireland! Watch this space.
Plans never go according to plan, of course!
The plan was to have our final Going Away party on Sunday 8th, then take off from Young Island - probably Monday 10th, headed direct for Flores, Azores. However, Tropical Storm Andrea has been blasting through Sat and Sun, causing us to hop anchorages to get the best all-round shelter as the wind clocks from east to south to west and north-west - we crept into the Narrows Basin mid-morning Sat with all the alarms singing as we inched over the bar at the entrance and sat here snug as bugs all night. Truth is though, we'll only get out again at high tide!
Chris Parker's message this morning was simple "Don't leave before Weds/Thursday at the earliest, as there's another gale coming through with very strong winds."
So the plan has simplified too - party today on Young Island with some 20 local folks joining us, then tomorrow we're going to move up to Armdale Yacht Club, Halifax, hang on a pontoon there for a few days until things die down a bit. Hot showers, supermarkets, restaurants - why would we want to leave??
Ken Baker has joined us aboard - what a pleasure! It was wonderful having the extra set of hands in the miserable weather hauling anchor yesterday - it's going to be a good trip with him. Listening to Herb yesterday (he is = still talking to some boats out there despite stories to the contrary) we heard Bill Bahme on Toodle Oo, also en route on a qualifying passage to the OCC meet in the Azores - he's having a good trip, ahead of all the nasties. I've suggested Ken add his bit to this blog as well, so as my grandsons would say "He...re's Ken!"
Hi folks, Quite a pleasure to be aboard and Al Shaheen is a great boat. Still learning where things a located a bit but it's going along fast. J&J have a great book on the Azores so I've been studying that as well. Now it's just a matter of waiting for a good weather window and we'll be off. Hope all is well with everyone. We'll blog you again soon. Jenny, John and Ken
Peter Dodd and Terry Folinsbee threw us a wonderful Going Away party on Sunday - what a great bunch of people there are here in Mahone Bay. I have to confess to being really sad to be leaving here - we have to make a plan to get back.
Take a look at these photos, from John Harries, to give you an idea of both food and people! http://www.flickr.com/photos/73108899@N03/sets/72157634033973821/
With all the projected bad weather coming in, we decided to take off anyway, get to Halifax and hang there waiting for a window when we can take off across the Atlantic. At this rate, feels like it may be next year!!
Terry decided to join us for the day, and boy oh boy, did John run these two guys through their paces! In extremely light winds, we hoisted almost every sail we had in our sailset - main, gib, genny, stormsail, - even hauled out the spinnaker eventually. Wow, then we took off! And landed up having the most delightful sail up the coast, dropping into Armdale Yacht Club just after 7.20pm - unexpected bonus to the day of training.
Armdale is unfortunately not yet open for the season, so we hung off the fuel dock, hoping things would improve on the morrow. Terry went back with Peter after a "comfort-food" dinner of sloshy mince beef and pasta (not up to his usual standard I'm afraid!), and we settled down for a quiet night.
Tuesday John van S popped down and took us off for lunch to the Squadron, and quite frankly after surveying the facilities there and being told by the AYC lady that nothing would be open until Thursday anyway, we took a hike down the river and hauled into Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron - very proper!!
The afternoon was spent on little tasks, collapsing the dinghy and stowing it, climbing the mast to get the Commodore's burgee down, catching up with wifi - I downloaded 2 days worth of The Times onto my iPad - wonderful! Rain predicted for tomorrow - again - so little jobs for tomorrow.
John rescued the chicken I was defrosting from two rooks that flew down to appropriate it - that's supper so I'd have been most upset if they'd succeeded!
The rain's lashing down, the wind's rattling the rigging, there's storms offshore - needless to say, we're not going anywhere at the moment! And according to the various weather forecasters, we'll be here in Halifax until at least Saturday 15th, slowly eating our way through all my carefully frozen vacuum packed meals. This is when a 42 foot boat becomes a bit confining to say the least - couple of days of this and we'll all be going stir-crazy - thank goodness the Clubhouse here is open later this morning. Quick run through the driving rain and we'll have some space to relax in! John and Ken have their heads in the depths under the floorboards, trying to sort out a minor problem with the filter on the deckwash pump - not something we'll be using much at sea I'm sure, but just another job to be crossed off the list - and something to do while we wait. As usual I have enough computer work to keep myself busy, so am tucked up in the forepeak, under a blanket, snug as a bug in a rug! Just have to keep wiping the hatch above my head down every half hour or so, as the condensation drips directly on to me otherwise! Oh, the joys of a cruising life!
Another day, another low - Chris Parker and Jenifer Clark (and for that matter Herb Hilgenberg who is still talking to a few boats as they make their final passages) all say the next low will arrive sometime late Friday/Saturday, so we're looking at a potential late Sat/early Sunday departure. Apparently after that the weather is good - believe that when I see it, I'm afraid!
Judy from RNSYS took us grocery shopping today, to replenish some of the food we've been eating. I have turned the fridge into a freezer for the moment, as we're on shore power, and am just keeping the veggies etc in one of the aft cockpit lockers - it's almost cold enough for them to geez there anyway! Had the diesel heater going on in Al Shaheen yesterday. Only things not co-operating are the bananas, as they're ripening regardless. Oh well, banana bread next I guess.
Couple on a powerboat yesterday, when I said we were waiting to go to the Azores, asked "oh, which airline flies there?" Flabbergasted when I pointed to our little sailboat dwarfed next to them and told them we were going in that. " My God," she says, "furthest we've ever been is Chester!" As you can see from the photo, their boat is a tad larger than ours!
But it's now becoming boring - all the jobs that can be done have been done:stowed the anchor off the bow into the anchor locker (won't be anchoring mid-Atlantic!); deflated the dinghy (won't be doing any side trips mid-Atlantic either); filled the water tanks, the diesel tanks, the food tanks, the Kindle, done the laundry, now what??? Can only wait!
Suddenly discovered that I forgot to replenish the UHT milk we use - with all this cold and rain, we've been drinking lots of warm drinks and of course depleted the crossing stocks. So today's mission was to find someone who was going to the supermarket or could get me some - of course most people look at you with wonderment when you talk about UHT or long-life milk!! Strange, as these are all sailors - but then you realise that they're actually probably only racers or day-sailors or maybe overnighters, so long-life anything is not an issue. Oh well, someone will come to the rescue.
Ken & John have been making final preparations stowing the anchor, mounting the water generator, going over the engine and checking safety gear. Other than that, it's computer stuff as usual, final minor adjustments to make. It is looking as if we MAY get off mid-morning tomorrow ie Saturday. So, final laundry done, bedding washed and dried, John made a large chicken curry last night for the first night's passage meal (become quite a tradition with us!) so now all I have to do is find space to store it in the fridge which at the moment is a freezer! No problem, amazing what you can squeeze into a tiny space.
Had to move this morning too - a very racy yacht has just been launched, sans mast, and is now in what was actually his space which we were using. So in the pouring rain, it was a line-handling, tug Al Shaheen over to the other side of the berth - we move by inches at the moment, not nautical miles.
Listened with envy to a boat calling in this morning just 90nm south of Flores: wish it was us! Still, with any luck, this time next week it may well be.
Well, finally on our way! We can see the sun for the first time in about 8 days, the wind has dropped, the rain has stopped, the diesel tanks are full, water tanks refilled, food lockers and fridge chock-a-block – and we’re all three going a little stir-crazy after 5 days at the dock in Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron cooped up in a 42 foot boat, eating up our carefully packed stores!
Time to go.
Weather gurus Chris Parker (an old friend from way back when) and Jenifer & Dane Clark (new to us but very well-spoken of off-shore routers) both say today (Saturday) is a good time to leave, so we’re taking their advice and making a break. Next stop, Flores Island, the first in the chain of the 9 islands in the Azores, in about 10 days time.
You can also watch our passage through a Spot signal; here is the link for the shared page
http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=05z80Sg34Nf02qA3EN7O68pGijIPR6cLs
The ocean certainly is an Other Thing! Our second day out, we're cracking along at 142° and have chewed off the first 220 of some 1500nm, the sun's shining, the wind has a steady 12-18kn on the starboard beam since we left Halifax yesterday, and all's right with the world of Al Shaheen and crew.
But it all takes some getting used to again.
For one thing, the boat never, but never stops moving, skipping, zigging, bouncing - and as Murphy's law has it, the moment you take a step in one direction, she zigs under you in another. And yes, I know that that's the same for every sail or aboard every boat - it's just the thought that it's going to do this for the next ten or so days, non-stop, that's a bit daunting initially. Takes some easing into!
The other thing at the beginning of a trip like this is getting into the routine that's necessary for us all to survive confined in a little 42 foot boat without killing each other off - we're keeping 3 hourly watches, which means everyone officially gets 6 hours off, 3 hours on - but of course, cooking, eating, radio schedules, checking the weather, typing and sending emails - all bite into this 6 hours! Have to say much of the past 36 hours has been taken up with us all catching up with sleep and sorting our body clocks out.
We had our first dolphins today - I never saw them, but John and Ken said there were dozens leaping and playing around the bow. Beautiful - for me they're an omen of a good trip, and I always feel happy when they're with us!
So, it's watch time for me - I have the 7-10pm watch tonight so will just see the sun go down!
Tuesday 18th - so it's morning three after leaving, and this is about when I start to whine "are we there yet?"
The weather's pretty foul, grey and overcast, the wind's become a steady 18-25 gusting 30, big seas with wave tops constantly breaking over the decks and every so often over the dodger. We have 3 reefs in the main and the gib's rolled in to about 1/3 size. The boat ride is flatter now, but she rolls all the time - still I guess that's better than the last two days when everything you want to do has meant battling your way uphill because she's been so steeply heeled!
Except of course for cooking - the galley's on the port side, so that means cooking over a stoveful of boiling pots gimballing towards you as you try very hard not to fall into them! It's been English fare so far: John's traditional curry the first night out, bangers and mash the second night - tried salmon with new potatoes and butternut last night but no-one was really eating, so much of the salmon has gone back into a container to be used with salad for lunch. Actually hove to for an hour or so to have dinner, less heel so at least Ken and I managed to sit on the couch, bowl in hand, John sat on the floor at the bottom of the companionway as this was the most confortable place!
Not much other than keeping watch, cooking, eating, listening to the various crackly radio broadcasts and sleeping takes place aboard at the moment - too difficult to do much else and it's a case of grab some rest while you can - you never know when you're going to be woken up for a sail change! I have insisted that no-one is allowed up on deck unless a 2nd person is at least up and watching, if not helping.
I really hoped to waken to one of those apparently balmy days, calm seas and a light breeze, but oh well, chance is a good thing.
Is this what is supposed to be fun? Thank God we have Ken on board, a third crew makes a huge difference. He has helped enormously with various computer and mechanical glitches, always has a smile on his face - like John's currently rather grizzled after 3 days of no shaving! How do the Tony Gooches and Jeanne Socrates of the world manage this stuff single-handed??
My turn to go on watch - just had a fairly good 4 hours sleep, so feeling okay.
Day 1, June 16
We left Halifax at 1300 local yesterday with blue skies and sunshine - the first for as long as I can remember. Wind SSW@15 kts at first, slowly backing W. Seas very lumpy with about 2m swell and wind chop on top of that. We are heading for a waypoint 250 miles out at 41-20N,60W. Took in one reef before dark but bowling along at generally over 7 kts. Sent out Spots at 1800 and 0600. Sun again today wind now W 16-18 kts but gusting 21. Wind is on the beam with course 141deg True. Position at 0700 N43 02, W061 49.
All well aboard but living conditions difficult in this lumpy sea.
BW
John
Day 2, June 17
Another day of glorious sunshine bowling along at 7 kts with a WSW wind@16-18 kts. In the first day we covered 172 Nm 1300 to 1300, which is one of our best ever. Interesting rise in water temp today. In Halifax it was 10.8; 12 hours later it was 11.8. This morning as we dropped of the continental shelf it went to 14.2 and is now at 16.2 as we near the Gulf Stream eddies.
Saw hundreds of dolphins this afternoon jumping against the sun.
Position at 2230Z N41-53.9 W060 34.5
Dealing with a computer on a leaping boat is very sick-making so no more until tomorrow.
BW
J/J&K
Day 3, June 17
Quite a wild day. Wind initially S@ 15kts making a SW course very difficult. Then AM both wind and seas got up and up to 25kts and 3-4m. Day seems to have been spent reefing and unreefing. Now wind is SW@25 and seas 4m. As progress to SW was so difficult and life aboard so difficult, we have decided to abandon Chris Parker's original route plan and, at his suggestion, are now heading directly for 38N 50W with all speed (7-8 kts) to get away from influence of s new Low over Nova Scotia coming in on Thursday/Friday. 24 hr Distance 1300/1300 today was 144 Nm. Now hove-to for dinner but will resume course 105T but will resume with 2 reefs main and half a jib which still gives us 7-8 knots on beam reach now wind has veered to SW. Water temp up to 21 now and very much warmer air temp. Instead of 5 layers under foulies now only one!
John/Jenny/Ken
(After this, John's reports will be combined with Jenny's every day.)
Sunshine! And smaller seas! And a good steady 12-15kn of wind - what a difference a day makes! After a night of 29-30kn winds and putting in reefs into the main in the dark with the boat storming ahead at 8.5kn, I was ready to call for the closest container ship to come take me off - today I'm ready to carry on to the islands. Chunky foul weather gear consigned to the wet locker (for the moment let me say quickly), Ken's even broken his shorts out. We had a dinner of left-over salmon and salad in the cockpit this evening - the world looks good.
Of course there is always a cloud in every sailing silver lining - Chris Parker is warning of a low coming through by Friday, and says we should be at about 39N 50W to miss it - so we're chugging away trying to beat this deadline - right now about 250nm away so all things being well we should be okay. I keep promising myself that one of these days I'm going to sail without having an oncoming low/storm/gale approaching, without having a deadline to meet!
We're a little like moles emerging after a long cold night - the past few days we've all done very little except sleep, eat or be on watch - now we're starting to peer around short-sightedly. I actually started to read a book - although being a Patricia Cornwall about autopsies and rotten skin slipping off rotten flesh, I soon gave it up as it made me feel decidedly queasy! But the routine is easier, life aboard has slipped into a pattern, systems are holding out well. The fridge is coping with the food in it, the frozen stuff thawing slowly enough to ensure we can eat the next layer without problem!
All's well on Al Shaheen and we're looking forward to a comfortable night.
Jenny, John and Ken
PS- A huge thanks to Peter Dodd who's doing all the editing and posting of the blogs
And John writes:
Day 4, June 18
Hi folks
Monday evening was quite wild; big seas (5m)and SW wind gusting to 30 knots. We hove-to for dinner and then went off on a wild ride with 2 reefs in the main and half a jib. We were averaging over 8 knots and peaked at 9.2 (surfing. The boat was rock steady but water flying everywhere as we crashed though the waves, finally taking in a 3rd reef when I lost my nerve at midnight. Today started cloudy and windy but now glorious sunshine and wind down to 14 kts and all reefs out and dry decks. Ken even changed into shorts! Water temp has been up to 24 degrees but rises and falls as we go in and out of the hot and cold Gulf Stream eddies. Third day's run 1300/1300 was 169 miles and would have been 176 if we had not hove-to. We are now headed for 38-30N and 50W about 240 miles away.
At 1800 local (Z-3) today we have covered 526 miles by log and have about another 1100 to go. Beautiful evening - we should be fishing but we are towing a water generator which keeps us well provided with power, but would get entangled with a fishing line.
BW
John/Jenny/Ken
Don't ever take the sunshine for granted! After a delightful day and evening, the night turned rough and nasty, meaning two excursions up for'rard to put in reefs - just at the end of Ken's dogwatch shift (about 3am) he got thoroughly doused by one huge wave breaking over the decks and drenching him - not what you want at that time of the morning! So to add to everything else that's swinging and heaving and jumping around the boat, there is now a complete set of sopping wet rinsed clothing slapping away hung up in the shower - not that we're actually in shower mode just now! Ken and John used the gap afforded yesterday to shave - looking very presentable.
Al Shaheen is literally galloping along, eating up the miles, which is good because we're running away to get to 39N 50W before a horrid series of lows come in to clobber us. On the grib files this morning, they show as a long line of black swirls and squirls chasing up from the south behind us - to be avoided! Hence what feels like a mad gallop across the ocean to get east and out of their way. And of course, as anyone who rides horses knows, galloping is not the most comfortable of actions!
One mistake we've made is to suspend a swinging net for our vegetables in the port cockpit locker - it's not the easiest place to access in this frantic gallop (sort of like trying to lance a ring from the back of a charging warhorse!), but you also stand the very good chance of a deluge down your back just as you manage to bend over to get at them. So next plan? Well, we're not using the forepeak for sleeping as it bounces too much, so we can probably rig same veggie net in there for the future. As John says, however, that's a dockside exercise!
So the good side is we've done some 650 nm - bad side is there's still another 1000 or so to go! They say travel broadens the mind and teaches you about yourself - I think what I've learnt (which I actually knew but conveniently forgot) is that I'm not really a long distance ocean sailor!
Chris Parker has been his usual helpful and knowledgeable self with weather routing: he provides an excellent service. On the other hand, we've not found the Clark's info of much help: the multi-coloured clockwise and counter-clockwise Gulf Stream eddies are very interesting, but not much help when the wind blows you elsewhere anyway. Still, it is good to know just why we suddenly have a 2 knot current running against us for a while.
And in the midst of all this, we hear that Francis Joyon on IDEC has just done New York to the Lizzard UK in 5 days 3 hours, a new transatlantic record, averaging 23kn. Think we'll stick with our 7-8, that's fast enough thanks.
And John writes...
Present position 1800 local, 2100Z, N39 01.8 W051 47.9. Distance made good 1300 to 1300 was 155 miles, but by log 167 miles. We had an adverse current most of the day which has worsened today and will cost us about 25 miles today. Before we left we obtained a Gulf Stream chart , at great expense, from the acknowledged "expert" Jenifer Clark. This showed the position of a whole series of hot (clockwise) eddies and cold (counter clockwise) eddies. The only problem was that due to wind direction and strength it was just too uncomfortable to sail a course to maximise the effect of these currents. We have, in effect, largely ignored them, but to our detriment so far.
For our weather we get Grib files by SSB and occasional forecasts from Chris Parker our weather guru in Florida. So far he has been very accurate.
After the light winds of yesterday it increased slowly during the night, first one reef, then 2, then 3, then #3 out again this morning. Ken took a soaking putting in one reef last night as a wave hit the side of the boat and dunked him. During today we have had a succession of mild squalls rising from 19 kts to 25, but wind consistently in the SSW. It is now quite hot in the sun but as we cannot open hatches due to water on deck, ventilation below is poor and the boat is becoming quite fetid. There is little chance of doing anything about this for several days to come. Perhaps when we reach the influence of the Azores High we'll get gentle winds and seas and then we can open everything up, ventilate the boat, clean up and maybe take a shower - at least that's what I keep promising the crew!
Tonight we advance clocks by an hour so we'll have a 23 hour day.
All's well aboard Al Shaheen. 690 miles so far, 100 miles to our next waypoint and now under 1,000 to Flores. ETA Flores maybe next Wednesday 26 but a lot depends on the position of the Azores High.
John/Jenny/Ken
This weather is more changeable than a chameleon tip-toeing across a Mondrian painting - one night dark and stormies being served up, next day as gentle as an ice-cold G&T!
Needless to say, if we did anything except run a dry ship when ocean sailing, we'd be serving G&Ts tonight - we've crossed the halfway mark, it's an absolutely picture perfect day and a wonderfully gentle sail at 6.5 - 7 knots with the sun shining. As Ken says, "This is what John promised as a trip to the Azores. Long may it last!"
So today was cleaning day - everything has a film of condensation after the past days of weather and having all the hatches closed tight. Have cracked the aft hatches (slightly), opened the heads hatches, and are now getting a nice light breeze through the boat. Of course, the watchkeeper's job has increased, as he/she now has to yell "Incoming" before a rogue wave sprays over the deck and into the boat! But we took the opportunity of wiping the walls and floors with fresh water to get rid of the saltiness, took a pine-smelling disinfectant to the heads, and all is now smelling fresh and foresty again. Ken hung his still damp clothes out on the port side, with my sparkling clean tea towels, and they're cheerfully flapping away in the breeze - boat's new name is Allee Chineenee after the famous washerwoman!
I got into the fridge to check out what was still usable - and amazingly, only had to throw out some rather sloshy looking green peppers (word to other women cruising - peppers don't keep!) and some pre-cut coleslaw mix. I should have known better than to buy the latter, because previous experience has taught me that unless you eat it almost immediately, it develops a slimy texture - not exactly appetising. Still, had melon slices with cold meats and camembert cheese for lunch - now the challenge is what to do tonight with a batch of chicken I'd pre-cooked and chunked then frozen? Had fried chicken with Thai sauce last night, so unfortunately it's chicken twice in a row, but that's the way the fridge is defrosting, so you get what's next on the pile!! Maybe a pie, cooked with sweet potatoes, carrots and baked with a potato topping?
John as usual has been finding all sort of little jobs to do, from screwing up the fan above the nav table that decided to swing down and get caught in the aft heads door,to re-adjusting the various straps and ropes that act as extra hand-holds down below. We've discovered that in all the hundreds of waves crashing over the boat, a nasty stain has been left down the steering column, so much muttering between the two men about bearings and WD40 and checking of manuals. Another dockside job for Flores!
Which suddenly seems not so far away after all!
John writes...
Sitting in glorious sunshine, wind aft of the beam, clean warm air blowing through a recently cleaned boat - how conditions change in 24 hours.
Last night was very squally. Wind SSW about 18 kts but gusting to 25 every few minutes. We held onto 2 reefs and part rolled jib and maintained 7 to 8 knots in a 2m sea. Our course was 110 so with wind well forward of the beam we were well heeled and very wet on deck. That lasted all night. early this morning we passed our "waypoint" of N38-30 W50 and altered course to 082 for our next waypoint at 39N 46W, about 170 miles away. This brought the wind well aft of the beam, the sun came out, the squalls passed away and we set full sail with genoa.
Then started the great boat clean up.
As we advanced clocks by an hour we had a 23 hour day. We made good 149 nautical miles 1300/1300 against a logged distance of 167, the difference of 18 miles being the effect of the adverse current. Today we are having wonderful sailing but somewhat slower at 7.3 knots.
We are now heading up to 40N so that, hopefully, as we approach the Azores we will get beam winds. We will continue to watch the position of the Azores High and alter our strategy accordingly.
ETA Flores? Maybe Wednesday? it all depends on that High.
Best wishes
John/Jenny & Ken
"Shall we take a reef in, just in case?" Ken asked as he prepared to come off watch late last night. "No, let's leave it," said John, "don't think there are any squalls coming and we're cruising along nicely." In one way he was 100% right - we had been cruising along very nicely all day, no dramas, making good time if being set slightly off to the south. Nothing that couldn't be sorted out before the next waypoint some 460nm away!
Had an ssb radio chat with Mervyn Wheatley earlier in the evening after hearing him talk to Herb - he must be the last boat still talking to Herb, Southbound 2, as Herb simply refuses to acknowledge anyone else calling in! Mervyn on Tamarind is just finishing the Ostar, having lost his auto pilot and also having had problems with his windvane steering off the Grand Banks - which, he said with a shiver that came right down the airwaves, was the worst experience of his life - cold, foggy, dreadful. "Never want to see the Grand Banks again!" he said in his immaculate British accent!
Anyway, John and Ken settled in for the night, and within minutes were snoring away in delightful cadence. In fact at one stage I thought we had dolphins snorting alongside, but a good scan of the moonlit water proved negative, I poked my head down below and realised it came from inside the boat, not outside! I was on the 10pm to 1am watch, and by 11pm the wind was dying dramatically. I tried every which way to move the boat along, tightening genoa sheets, loosening them, playing with the mainsail, turning 10 degrees first to port then to starboard, then eventually woke John just after midnight. "The wind's died," I said. "It'll come back up," he mumbled. "No, we're down to 3.7kn and there's a 2kn current against us - we're almost standing still," I said firmly. Amidst much mutters he got up, early for his watch, and we spent the next hour debating how to bring in the tow generator - it revolves too fast to bring it in safely unless the boat's almost standing still. Well, by 1.6kn it was, so we hauled it in, turned on the engine for the first time since leaving Halifax harbour, and motored for the next 90 minutes. At least that meant we made up the drift away from our waypoint by the time the wind came back up enough to sail again. Silver linings??
So what's a dog watch and where did the name come from? Both Ken and I think it's that very late night/early morning stint, sometime between midnight and 4am, John says the British Admiralty talk about it as the change-over shift between 8pm and midnight when they break their usual pattern of 4 hour watches into 2 hours, the first and second dog-watches. Why dog watch though? John also says the old Thames barges used to ply their trade up and down the UK coasts with a skipper, a boy and a dog - was this the time when the dog was on watch?? Or if it's late night, is it something to do with the Dog Star? Or when you're dog-tired?? Have to google this - or check Priscilla Travis's book of Nautical Terms!
(Editor's Note: To anticipate a flurry of responses... The First Dog Watch is 1600 to 1800, the Last Dog Watch is 1800 to 2000. This meant that there would be an odd number of watches in the day so that crew did not have to stand the same watch day after day. Origin of the name is uncertain.)
We're now on day 7, and settled into an easier routine. All actually managing to stay awake for at least part of the off-watch time (3 hours on, 6 hours off) whereas earlier the entire 6 hours off was spent flat on a bunk, eyes closed, catching up with time-clocks and sleep! Now day time we're all pretty much awake, reading, cooking, eating, generally relaxing.
It's a good life, sailing along merrily again - and we're almost at the 1000nm mark, when Ken will qualify as a full member of the OCC. No champagne on board, but we might just have to crack a beer! And just realised today that there are some 6 or 8 potential OCC members qualifying on this Azores Rally - fabulous!
And not only are the shorts out, but hats have appeared too - the sun's here to stay, we seem to be saying. John's just pulled the sextant out, so next job is to try for a noon sighting!!
John writes...
Today has been a day of navigational significance. Firstly, the Skipper decided to do a sun's meridian altitude (for the uninitiated,this is a sextant sight of the sun at local noon). It was the first for at least 5 years and taken in a 2m sea, so the result, which placed us only 1.3 miles north of our actual latitude by GPS, was quite satisfying in the prevailing sea and boat motion conditions. Secondly, we achieved 1,000 miles by log in just 6 days which isn't bad for a crew of geriatrics (Ken excluded of course!) not having made an ocean passage for 4 years. Thirdly, having achieved 1,000 miles, Ken now qualifies as a full member of the OCC. Fourthly, the trip function of our electronic log, which can't cope with displaying thousands, on reaching 999.99 suddenly decided to display 347.19! We haven't figured that one out yet.
Last night was very trying. The wind fell light and eventually failed so we had to motor for a couple of hours. Early this morning it came back from the SSE which wasn't ideal but has enabled us to maintain an easterly course and speeds 6-7 knots all day in sunshine. The 24 hour run 1300/1300 was 145 miles but 154 by log. We are still dogged by an adverse current trying to set us away to the NW. Hope fully we'll get out of its influence soon.
Present position 1800 local (2000Z) tonight is N38-55.2, W045-36.3 with about 660 miles to go to Flores.
John
(Editor's Note 2. Special congratulations to Ken Baker! It is not everyone who qualifies for OCC membership aboard the Commodore's own yacht.)
Had a complete mix of wild and tame last night! Ken's watch was a fast ride with a couple of squalls, steady 12-15kn of wind, mine the wind died down to about 8/9 knots and we just toddled along - John's started off quiet, put out the big genoa and 10 minutes later was frantically taking it in in a hard squall! Then just as I fell into one of those comatose sleeps, I heard this dreadful crackling noise. Fire! I shot up in my bunk, only to see John calmly sitting at the top of the companionway munching his way through a packet of potato crisps, crackle, crackle by crunchy crackle!
Don't quite know what's happened to all this flat seas and no wind scenario predicted - we've had a rocking, bouncing, bucking, galloping ride since we left Halifax 7 days ago, an occasional flat patch but mostly blowing a small hoolie. Oh well, could be worse - could be raining and blowing a real hoolie! We've escaped all the lows, put those behind us, now just have the Azores high up ahead. Will that be when we get to motor??
Please understand, it's not that I want to hear the sound of an engine, it's just that I'd like to have some hot water for a shower - and the calmness to be able to take a shower without having to sit on the floor so I don't fall over! Oh well, chance would be a good thing. At the risk of sounding crass, it would be wonderful to be able to sit down on the loo without having to use both hands and feet to brace myself against sliding off the seat - and have you ever tried bracing your shoulder against a heaving wall while you try to pull your jeans up one-handed because the other's frantically fending you off from the back wall??
We celebrated Ken's "coming of age" last night - dropped off about 20 degrees to flatten the boat out enough to eat down below, although I still had to pick my little new potatoes off the floor twice as they rolled off my plate! Other meals I've dished up in bowls as at least then the food stays in the plate while you shovel it down, but we were "doing elegant" last night as Ken qualified for full membership of the OCC - well done Ken!
The thing that amazes me is the way we humans multi-task, no matter where we are. Here we three are in the middle of the Atlantic somewhere, no sign of human anything anywhere - haven't even seen a ship for 4 days! Yet Ken's advising Heather on dog problems back home in Maine, John's sorting out renting a garage in Sarratt UK and we're trying to co-ordinate the repair of a house wall that's cracked back in South Africa - gone are the days when sailors took off and were never heard from again until they sailed back in, many months or years later! Now we have twice daily contact with the world, at least, and best of all, loved ones back in various ports to do the work required.
Thanks to them all, and love to you all who've sent messages etc - keep them coming!
John writes...
Last night was fairly uneventful, except for the full moon,until near dawn when it got really squally. We had in one reef and working jib. I relieved Jenny at 0400, decided the boat was going too slowly and decided to set the genoa, which can be done from the cockpit. We have a rule that no one leaves the cockpit unless there is someone else there watching them, so I couldn't take out the reef without calling the watch below. No sooner had I stowed the jib and set the genoa than a dirty great squall hit us. The boat was on her ear, speed up to 8.7 knots, water flying everywhere, so I had to reverse the whole procedure, and all in the dark! Pity I didn't look up to windward before I started!
The day started grey and overcast but is now brilliant sunshine and we are crashing along at 7+ knots due east with wind 60 degrees apparent and one reef in. Wonderful sailing.
Yesterday's run was 144 miles 1300/1300 but that was another 23 hour day as we advanced the clocks again. We have somewhere near 550 miles to go but the ETA of Wednesday depends very much on how we transit the Azores High with its light winds. We can't hope to keep up this express train ride for more than another couple of days at the most.
Position tonight at 1830 Z was N38-43, W42-35.
John/Jenny/Ken
Another sunny day, for which we can only be thankful, but now the wind's dropped away to 3-4kn - is this the dreaded Azores high already?? Anyway, after plodding along at 4kn or so, eventually the skipper made the unwelcome decision and the engine is now on and we're motoring towards Flores. Of course, Flores is still some 400nm plus away so it'll be another 3 days before we get there, but at least we're now able to go directly there rather than go wherever the wind wants to take us!
I'm reading Paul Heiney's "Last man across the Atlantic" at the moment - great story. But he talks of the need for uplift when he realises just how far he has to go and how he had been pushed further and further south and how he feared " that when I made my noon mark on the chart we might be further from Newport than at midday the previous day". I empathise!
But there are compensations to having an engine on - all the computer, iPad, camera, etc batteries can be recharged - and best of all, hot water is available for showers. We've used water very sparingly so far, partly because we're very aware of water usage but also because it's been too darn cold to shower in cold water and too uncomfortable to take a shower anyway! But now suddenly we have a double blessing; hot water and a boat that wallows instead of bucking. So what an uplift to have a hot shower and get rid of that crust of salt that seems to settle everywhere.
Had dolphins at play again this morning - leaping and cavorting at the bow, too magnificent. And Ken saw a sea turtle give us a very startled look before ducking his reptilian head below. The terns seem to have disappeared - are they more cold water birds? Certainly had a lot until a day or so ago. And then in quick succession, a sighting of two man-made objects; our first cargo ship in 5 days streaking across our stern at 18kn, and a discarded plastic bottle bouncing cheerily down our port side. Our first physical indication that we're on track - Bob Groves did say "follow the garbage trail and you can't miss the Azores!" Horrid thought that he might be right.
What do the pundits say - it's the journey that matters, not the destination? Well, sitting reading in the sunshine on a lovely blue sea wafting along to Flores, refreshed and smelling sweet, I can honestly say it's a good journey!
John writes...
We made really good progress last night; 85 miles in 12 hours and that was with one reef in. Since this morning the wind has fallen off and at 1400Z it fell away to nothing and we started motoring directly towards Flores at 6 kts, distance 400m miles.
Present position at 1830Z is 38-41N 039-34W. Days' run to 1300 local (1400Z) was 155 miles DMG and 167 by log, so we still have an adverse current of half a knot.
Motoring is miserable, noise, vibration, unstabilised motion of the boat, sails slatting etc. The only upside is that we now have plenty of hot water and, with the boat finally upright, the prospect of showers at last! At this rate we should get to Flores some time on Wednesday, fuel permitting.
John/Jenny/Ken
I've got the mean ole, dreary ole, tired ole Are We There Yet Blues; the screaming, heaving, bouncing, shaking mean ole Are we there yet Blues!
Not really a gripe, more a comment on the fact that you have to have your head screwed on straight to deal with this ocean passage lark! I keep making the mistake of saying, Oh it's only another ... miles, then an hour later the marker point has only moved 4 miles and that's not even a dot on the track line on the chart plotter. Oi vey! The key I think is to only allow yourself to look at the figures once a watch ie once every 3 hours - then with any luck, it's movement is more positive.
So now I'm trying hard to "live in the moment", enjoy what's around etc. The hassle is, "what's around?" We've seen no sea birds for days, one ship off 5 miles to port last night, other than that - clouds, all shapes and sizes, some more clouds - and over there, probably 20 miles away some more clouds. Mind you, those ones over there had better stay there; they're mean and black and chucking down rain and lots of wind on someone!
We've motored almost non-stop since 1.30am - motored some yesterday, then had a few good flurries of wind that enabled us to shut down the engine for a while, but since early this morning it's been droning away faithfully, doing its thing and pushing us forward. Having just finished Heiney's book on the Ostar (the Original Singlehanded TransAtlantic Race which restarted again in 2005 to take back what had morphed into the Transat), I was extremely pleased we have an engine! He and others sat for 3 days in this same area, going what felt like nowhere.
Motoring of course takes away the stress of sail-handling and reefing etc, but it also means there are now large chunks of time in which to do very little. Once the meal's been prepared - and I must change my ideas on what we're eating tonight 5 times a day, and the shower's done (wonderful hot water is a real blessing of motoring!), the head's been cleaned, then it's back to reading again!
Can't even edit - despite having 3 authors sitting waiting - as too much time spent staring at a computer screen definitely brings on the queasies. So, having finished a Lee Childs, a Patricia Cornwall, a Wilbur Smith and a Paul Heiney, I'm on to Philippa Gregory's The Red Queen - nothing like variety. Anyone for a game of scrabble??
---
Editor's Notes:
John's notes have not arrived yet (2030 ADT) I will post when I get them.
For Tuesday 25th I will be unable to post the blog until Wednesday morning. Please don't worry.
We motored all night and all day..... Wind about 7 knots dead on the nose. Sunshine all day but now overcast and a few specks of rain. Hot water from the engine means showers all round - great feeling to be clean again.
Yesterday's run was 148 miles; that's a total of 1386 in 9 days. 154 miles/day average.
Present position at 1700Z is: 38-56N 036-40W. 257 miles to go to Flores. Target is now to get in before dark on Wednesday, which should be achievable. ETA is 1400 Wed. We'll probably have to leave Flores on Friday midday to sail 167 miles overnight to Horta to arrive there Saturday afternoon. Possibly we could delay by a day - let's see what the weather will be doing.
John/Jenny/Ken
Walk with me, the Walrus said, and talk of other things;
Of sailing ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings.
I have nothing to say on sealing wax, have my fill at the moment of kings both dastardly and good in the 1470s; cabbages - a great staple on a long trip with little refrigeration! Have just hauled a red one out of the cockpit locker where's it's been secluded for the past 11 days, and had a multi-coloured coleslaw with apple, carrots and broccoli last night - delicious.
As for sailing ships, that's a different story!
After what feels like hours of motoring, the engine clanging away non-stop (well no, there was a brief stop when we wallowed in the flattish sea while John and Ken did an engine check etc), John finally decided this morning we needed to switch off, tack away to the NE and put the sails up. So we're no longer on a direct course for Flores, but we're also not pounding into a dead-on-the-nose wind that's stopping us from doing more than about 4 knots and chewing up the fuel. At that rate, we'd have run out before we got to Flores!
So ETA Flores has changed: hopefully we'll be in by Thursday, just in time to leave for Horta on Friday/Saturday. But unless there's some remarkable windshift, there's no other choice - we don't/won't have enough fuel to motor direct to Horta without going to Flores, so Flores it is. I have a far greater appreciation of the frustrations of sailing where the wind determines, rather than going where you want to go. The good thing is we're sailing - the sun is shining, the sea is blue, the wind's just nice even if in the wrong direction. So be it - live in the moment and enjoy what we've got - it could be chucking it down with rain and blowing a hoolie!
Irritating to think that Narnia and Vivaldi, both of whom left after us, are probably already in Flores - bigger boats, bigger engines, more fuel. I know this ain't a race, I'm just envious of their enjoyment of solid land already!
John writes:
This is the day we were supposed to arrive - at least, 11 days duration which will be 1500 Wednesday. Well, it is not going to happen quite like that!
The first 8 days of this trip were glorious off-wind sailing. Then, on Sunday afternoon the wind died and we started to motor, direct to Flores on a course of 082T. Last night the wind came back, and the seas with it, but dead on the nose. Whereas we had been making 6 knots, the speed fell off to 3.8 and the motion was awful. We were just eating up fuel and getting nowhere so we just had to sail. Since 0930 this morning we have been sailing at 6-7 knots in sunshine, well heeled but on a course of 050 which will take us to France, not Flores! At 1000 it was 175 miles direct to Flores, now it is 133 so in 8 hours we have gained 40 miles to windward. Somewhere along this line later tonight we'll have to tack and flog off in the other direction.
This is the Azores High and while it just sits where it is we shall get easterlies and a tough ride to Flores. We have food, water and about 180 litres of diesel. If the wind and seas go down we'll motor. If they don't, we have little option but to continue beating to windward.
Position at 1900Z Tuesday is 39-40N, 034-01W. Distance covered 24 hours to 1300 today was 150 miles.
John/Jenny and Ken
Editor's Note. I was able to post the blogs today, but cannot create the image of the track. Tomorrow! P.
Considering that Flores is 17km long by 14km wide at its widest, it's not really surprising it's so hard to find in this blerry big 3000 mile wide Atlantic ocean! Talk about a needle in the haystack - we've been searching for it for what seems like weeks now, and still seem to be no closer to finding it.
Okay so I exaggerate - we actually are now (as of 8am Weds morning) ONLY 82 miles away - but at 3.5kn, it's going to take us some 23 hours to claw our way there, inch by painful inch. Assuming we don't hit heavier winds on the nose or run out of fuel before then. Do I sound sorry for myself? Yes, I do, and yes I am! Last night we sailed, motored, sailed out to the NE - if we'd had enough food on board it probably would have been better to just keep straight on and aim for the coast of Ireland. This morning we've tacked back down towards the south, and are aiming just to the west (left) of the island. Couple more zigs, a few more zags, and who knows, we should be there. However, I do have a better understanding of why people ship their yachts back to the UK!
On the bright side, it's another beautifully sunny day, there's enough fresh food in the fridge for at least another 3 days and enough dry goods and cans for a few weeks at least. Not that I'm suggesting anything, mind! The sea is a delightful blue - but incredibly empty to the eye. I think we've seen perhaps 6 ships the entire passage, and no birds whatsoever for the past 4 days or so. And apart from the dolphins some days back, and Ken's sea turtle, no other wild life at all. Where'd they all go? The nice thing is that there is no real evidence of the so-called trail of garbage either - a plastic bottle, some silver foil wrappers, a large plastic barrel and a log that looked as if it has been floating around for 100 years or more. So that's good.
And of course life goes on without you paying attention anyway! News from South Africa is that the crack in the house wall has developed into a full-scale collapse, and urgent repairs are needed. Thank God for modern communications, that mean we can contact son Garth back in Johannesburg to organise the tenant and my manager to find a builder, source the materials needed, get it all paid for and the job done. Couldn't have done that 10 years ago! Wonderful to have kids to fill the gaps when the silver generation is off gallivanting!
John heard from Gianluca on Vivaldi this morning: they're about 80 miles north of us, with Narnia (Denis & Beenie) about 7 miles ahead of them. So we haven't done too badly on Al Shaheen, considering they are both big 50ft something boats and we're a piddly little 42 footer!
It looks as if we might arrive after dark which will be an absolute pain, as we'd stowed the anchor for the passage so can't anchor off! Have to go in and tie up to something in order to refit the big Rocna; there's no way we can put it back on the bow while at sea. Another "grab the moment" moment!
Short message tonight as I am sitting on the floor (cabin sole) braced where I can't fall, typing this on my knee with a 30 degree heel.
Last night we sailed all night until the wind fell off, then we motored until the seas got too rough, then we sailed again at 6 kts in sunshine, all the time beating to windward towards Flores which is still 45 miles away to windward. In 24 hours to 0100 this morning we made good nearly 100 miles towards our Flores waypoint. We should get in tomorrow - sometime, but difficult to predict when. We are hoping we are done with motoring as we hate it and we are getting low on diesel.
We know that 2 bigger boats which left Mahone Bay and Marion, Mass at roughly the same time as us are both 60 miles behind us, so relatively, we are doing very well but difficult to convince ourselves of that in these difficult conditions..
Present position 1900Z is N39-30 W032-03
John
We've zigged, we've zagged, we've motored, we've sailed - the sea's been dead flat and it's been rough and bumpy - but still that little island eludes us! The problem is one of direction: when we're zigging we're doing 150 degrees and aimed at the Canaries, when we're zagging we're doing 45 degrees and aimed at Iceland! As Flores in between the two at about 102,it means we're doing all these triangles to try to get closer and never quite making it. Just as well we keep a 24 hour watch or we could sail right past it in one of the zigs. Or zags!
Apparently, according to the John and Ken boffins on board, we're ONLY about 40 miles away, and should be in around 4am. Believe it when I see it!
Down to cold tack tonight - no energy or enthusiasm for cooking, so it was open tin dinner; cold meat, tinned beans and sweetcorn, with some mushy asparagus on the side. Gobbled up by the men however, who both cheered at the sight of the tin of baked beans! We hove to for half an hour, because I eventually lost it when I couldn't even get the tin opener to stay on the tin to open it! And baked beans and sweetcorn have a tendency to slide right off the plate when she's so badly heeled.
Roll on the morning!
Update 6.30am - okay, so a few more zigs and several more zags and the ETA's changed - but Land Ho! Flores looms out of the gloom at us, Ken saw it first at 05.15, and we're now motoring straight for it. ETA approx 4 hours time - watch this space!
This HAS to be the smallest, most terrifying entrance to a marina after a 13 days passage - against the wind and with a gushing tide, rocks to the starboard side crashing against the shore what appears to be inches from the boat, the waves rolling you in through an entrance that's only about 40 feet wide - after having all the ocean to play with, suddenly we're forced to consider surfing in like this??? We dropped the main outside in the rolling swells, watching in horror as the masts inside the breakwater wall rocked and rolled - were we going to have room to tie up, would we have room to turn if there was no room ... what the hell?? No answer from the harbour master on phone of vhf, but another boat in the marina did eventually answer us and say they'd be ready to catch opr lines, just come on in. So we did, John cursing and swearing all the way as we skirted the rocks and skated in through the entrance then made a hard right hand turn to enter one of the smallest marinas I've ever seen - and one that was already chock-a bloc full, no berths, so tying up alongside someone else was the necessary.
Tony on Tamarack came to our rescue - a bit startled, as he has an old racing boat with very few cleats and only huge winches, but willingly took the lines etc and tied us off. Just as we sort of settled to a huge rise and fall of swell coming in through the entrance, the harbour master came down, Diego, nice young man, to tell us he thought we'd be perfectly positioned if we swung across at right angles to a berth next to a large hippo of a German boat! With much yelling and shouting,a group of guys then got together, Ken threw a rope to the other shore, and they warped us around, from lying alongside Tamarack to being bows in to a berth on the other side - and bow, the next 2 hours were spent sorting out lines, fenders, ropes, gadgets to kept us from both bouncing off the docks and/or bouncing of the big German boat next to us! The swell was phenomenal, most uncomfortable, the fenders squidging up to nothing as they were jammed against the dock or boat: it was a nightmare!
D
In the midst of all the help and advice from a variety of other boats all bouncing and rolling and bumping, Phillip, very South African gent, suggested we tie rocks to our lines to keep them from bouncing up so fast. Yeah, like we carry rocks as ballast aboard Al Shaheen!! But Phillip was very nice, gave John his car to rush into Santa Cruz to buy more fenders while Ken and I played tie-the-rope-again-please. In the 2 hours John was away, we squashed and totally deflated 2 fenders - the dwell was horrendous! Unfortunately we had no option but to be here - one, we need fuel to continue to Horta, and two, we'd stowed our anchor when we left Halifax to prevent it banging on the bow in heavy seas - bad mistake in retrospect. So the marina was the only option, otherwise we could have anchored off on the west side of the island, in calmer waters.
Anyway, Diego came to the rescue with some old tyres, so we now have 5 large tyres striping huge black smears down the topsides - thank God she's going for a repaint - but at least we're not popping any more fenders!
Dinner off the boat at ex-Paula's Cafe (Paula's now on Pico running a pizzeria), a grande jar of red wine, and we're all crashing! 1814 miles logged, although we actually sailed 1731 miles (difference was adverse current against us) in 11 days and 21 hours at an average speed of 6.1 knots - it's bedtime guys!
Dawn saw us in the lee of Flores with no swell and little wind and a cloudy murky morning. We decided to press on to Lajes which is on the SE corner of Flores, although we had heard that several other boats had gone into an anchorage at Faja Grande on the west cost having decided that the entrance to Lajes was too dangerous in the prevailing conditions - how right they were. Once we were out of the lee of the island we were back into the familiar easterly swell.
The entrance to the small marina, only 20m wide, was quite frightening with a big swell running in but once inside we found it crammed with boats, all sheltering from the easterly wind and swell. The marina manger directed us to a berth which he considered "just perfect" but in fact was the only one available and designed for a 9m boat, not our 12.7m. With the swell it was just like living inside a washing machine and it took us nearly 2 hours to secure the boat. We burst 2 fenders within the first couple of hours and I borrowed a car to drive to Santa Cruz to buy more fenders from the fisherman's store. One of these has now burst and we have replaced them with old car tyres which are now leaving black marks on our white paintwork. It really is a dreadful place but there is nowhere else to go. Having said that, the island is quite stunning, with the most glorious wild flowers alongside the road and in the hedges and fields.
Too tired to say more except that we covered some 1731 miles in 3 hours under 12 days (11 days and 21 hours) from leaving Halifax at an average speed of 6.1 knots. The logged distance was 1814 miles. the difference of 83 miles was probably the effect of the adverse current or may have been an inaccuracy in the speed/distance log.
The first 8-9 days were very enjoyable fast sailing. The last 450 miles struggling to windward against wind and swell have been very dispiriting. However, altogether a fast and successful trip. We now have to get to Horta by Monday - another 130 miles to windward with no let-up in the westerlies!
There may now be a few days break in messages. We'll resume when we leave Flores.
John/Jenny/Ken
Editor's Note: Jenny will be sending along a blog entry later today. Al Shaheen is in the Marina at Lajes Das Flores. JJ&K are sightseeing today. Yesterday, Jenny posted a number of pictures from the passage. They are interspersed among the blog entries, so just go to "My Photos" to find them. P.
It has been a decidedly mixed blessing being in Lajes Marina in Flores - wonderful to know we actually managed to find this little pinprick in the ocean and didn't sail straight past it, wonderful to be able to step off the boat onto solid ground (suddenly I know why people kiss the ground on first landing - it's the sense of complete relief!!). Great to have a bar/pizzeria just a few 100 yards up the bill, great to be able to walk flat instead of always at an angle.
The downside is that this little marina, and I mean little, is an absolute washing machine trap. Once you're in, if there's the hint of a SE wind, you're stuck here until the swell dies down enough to attempt to get out! We came in, or should I say surfed in through a narrow sluicing entrance, and had to make a very abrupt decision as to where to go. The harbour master doesn't reply to VHF - we subsequently discovered that Diego just ignores boats when either he feels he's overworked or the harbour's too full! So we had no idea what to expect, except that a friendly guy on another yacht said, yes come on in, we'll be here to catch your lines!
Initially tied up to Tony on Tamarack, single-hander, then Diego arrived and said we should move to a berth just across the way - major mission, but between him, Tony and a couple other stalwart cruisers we were warped over to a berth alongside a big fat German boat who oozed into our space and squeezed us against the narrow pontoons. Anyway, 3 hours later we were tied up, we thought successfully, lots of fenders down, all secure.
Then the fun started! The swell is phenomenal in a south easterly, and we spent the next couple hours bouncing off the walls!! Popped two fenders almost immediately, so John borrowed a car and rushed off to Santa Cruz (the next town) to buy new fenders. By the time he got back a couple of hours later, Ken and I had discovered a stache of old car tyres, and these now decorate the sides of Al Shaheen - just as we'll she's going for a repaint!
Unfortunately we were tied locked in: we had to refuel in order to get to Horta, our next island, and spent the whole of Friday waiting for the fuel man to arrive. The guide book had said there was fuel on the dock, no such luck! It has to come in 50 litre plastic barrels from the local garage - Antonio comes down in his little black zoo car and Schumacher style screams you up to his garage to pay etc then brings the barrels back to the boat - the whole operation is done by plonking a barrel on the highest point of the boat and running a siphon tube down into the diesel tank! All very efficient but all very time-consuming!
Friday saw anyone who could escaping: some little boats made it out, to be replaced by some big boats who just made the situation worse - dock lines snapped, tempers frayed, the big German boat crashed up against the dock in a surge and smashed his windvane, fenders were popping like over inflated balloons and the tyre stock was being reduced dramatically as boaters swapped aesthetics for reality. And all the while the torrent sluiced in - it was like watching a mini tsunami through the entrance that picked the boats and pontoons up and just chucked us all around every ole which way!
So today we decided to take the day off, rented a car, and got off the boat. No-one has had much sleep, it was time for a change! And what a great day it was. This is a most exceptionally beautiful island, high volcanic mountains with narrow little roads winding their way down to delightful little villages huddled on the cliff's edges ; bucolic scenes of pastoral land and cattle munching away peacefully above harbours and anchorages that only the brave would attempt!
But most of all, it is an island of flowers. I've never seen anything like it - every road and pathway, every dividing wall or fence is lined three feet deep in hydrangeas, cannas, dog-roses blazoned against a background of deep lush green vegetation. The mountains are sheer, and waterfalls cascade down in thin ribbons of spray to fall into bottomless unseen pits. It's a wonderland.
And the people are great! Shortly after arriving, a big bearded dreadlocked guy came up to give us some advice on how to survive the swell : Phillip is a South African who has now made his home here, and we spent a fabulous morning with him and his wife Ann in their ongoing project of a house - imaginative, eclectic, a creator's dream!
So all in all, it has been a very good experience; met some great folks, some old friends, some new, had some bad times but overall it has been good. But I'd not recommend this harbour, I have to say!
We are at sea again, thank Heavens!
The Lajes Marina was a disaster in the prevailing easterly swell but, once in, it was too small to turn around and we couldn't get out. We were buffeted continuously by he swell rolling into the marina and had to resort to using car tyres as fenders as ours mainly burst as we were sandwiched between the dock and the heavy German boat in the adjoining slip. consequently our white topsides are now black. We got very little sleep during the 3 days we were there. We did manage to fill up with diesel and see most of the very beautiful island. We also made a lot of friends.
We managed to extricate ourselves at 0800 this morning with a lot of help from the mainly French community of sailors in the marina. In the end, it was a lot easier than I had anticipated.
Once out, we immediately went into a watch routine to enable us to recover some sleep.
It is 133 miles from Lajes to Horta. There is still a heavy easterly swell and a light NE wind so, yet again, we are motoring as we have to get there tomorrow in time for the OCC dinner on Tuesday. ETA is early Monday morning.
John/Jenny/Ken
Escape achieved! After very little sleep for any of us last night, what with all the banging and crashing of Al Shaheen against the dock, the German boat against us, the cracking and screeching of the 10 dock lines as they relaxed then snapped to attention every time a surge came in (every 10 mins or so!), John was up at 3am trying to get the intensely slow internet to download/upload and deal with the usual plethora of OCC quibbles and queries. By 6.30 we'd all decided this was it; bags under eyes, it was now or never. So we mustered the troops on nearby boats, remove the tyres and replaced them with mushed fenders for some protection, Ken threw a long line to Tony on Tamarack on the other side of the marina, then between us on the boat and the other 6 sturdy guys on the docks, we released all the lines, pulled and tugged her out of the narrow berth without scraping the fat German. With much yelling and shouting, we reversed, got her turned around and pointed our bows towards the hole in the wall to get out. What an incredible feeling of relief to make it through the entrance, through the breaking surf and out into the outer harbour where the coasters and fishing boats were hobby-horsing merrily. We'd escaped!
Sea is calm(ish) out here, slight swell, what little wind there is is bang on the nose (is it ever anything else??), so we're motoring for the moment. They way I feel, I'd be happy to motor all the way back to UK - no actually the way I feel right now I'd be happy to take the 747!! Have just chatted with 2 other boats who also left this morning, from the Faja Grande anchorage, who are motor-sailing some way behind us. But we're doing 5 or so knots, boat's comfortable, we're in recovery mode and sleep's calling. Long emails to Anne Hammick, editor of the Atlantic Guide however, re Lajes Marina and its untenable if not downright dangerous situation!
Interesting how quickly a community develops when there's trouble. Over the past 3 days (can't believe it's only 3 days, feels like a month!) we got to know everyone in the berths, eccentric singlehanders, strange Frenchmen who are willing to help but don't want to chat, Germans who want to do both, several families with young kids doing exotic round the Atlantic cruises etc. It's a melting pot of nationalities and characters - no red trousers and smart jackets with ties here; this is the hoi polloi of the sailing community! Wonderful stories to tell, amazing experiences to share, a real privilege to be amongst them all, from the little 27 footer to the big 49 foot Swan - all different.
And we met some great folks on the island: Phillip (South African with Ann, American wife and two kids) has decided to hang up his seaboots here for the summers, take off sailing again in his old Swan during the winters (last year went to Morocco etc). He's settled on this little island of some 3900 souls, bought a knock-down old stone house for E5000 and is in the process of renovating this into a delightfully eclectic and charming home. The kids go to school locally so are now multi-lingual (Azores is Portuguese but lots of French here too), and are totally self-sufficient. Joachim (about 11/12 years old I'd say) is chief goat-handler and veggie grower, very observant. Took one look at Al Shaheen the other day and said "your bow-lines need sorting, they're chaffing through." And he was right!
Okay, my turn to go on watch now - next blog when we arrive in Horta probably.
9.50am on the dot we turned into the outer harbour of Horta, calm night, pitch dark with no moon, but no hassles either. Just a droning engine as there was no wind either!
Milling around in the outer anchorage at the moment, waiting for the fuel dock to empty of a large catamaran, will refuel, then find a berth. And do some laundry!! Think I'll call the Laundry Lady to come collect etc - too many other things to do to be bothered with sitting staring at a machine going round and round!
Already chatted to Mark on Zahlia, Bill on Toodle Oo, Gianluca on Vivaldi - Narnia is in, but no-one aboard. We're going to tie up to them, but nervous of damaging their brand spanking new topside paint job!!
We left Flores at 0800 yesterday and arrived in Horta at 0950 today, 1 July, back on schedule. We motored all the way against a light north easterly breeze which was too weak to sail. By the time we had refuelled and completed the entry formalities it was around noon.
Have spent the rest of the day socialising, doing laundry and had a fabulous steak in Peter's Cafe Sport tonight. This is where we will be having our OCC Dinner tomorrow. Cafe Sport is a legend with Atlantic sailors and has always been the OCC base here . It is now run by the grandson of the founder, Jose Henriques Azevedo who is the OCC Port Officer for Horta. It looks as if we shall be having be special evening tomorrow with a number of local dignitaries including the Director General of tourism for the Azores.
Blog Mon to Weds 1/3rd July
Monday:
Tied up alongside the inner wall, third boat out from a catamaran and another aluminium Dutch boat, life is suddenly quiet, peaceful and wonderful. Rejuvenated by hot showers, John took a walk around the marina to see who was in town while I started the first load of 3 weeks worth of laundry! How stuff collects – and the laundry runs on a tight schedule, organised by a martinet who tells you which machine to use, what temperature to use and how long it’s going to take. Woe betide you if you’re not there on time to remove your was and allow someone else’s in! Still, it is nice to see the dirty stuff going in and the clean stuff coming out – and the pile reducing slowly.
Mark Holbrook on Zahlia is here, and rowed over to see us as soon as we’d tied up; catch up on all that’s happening, or rather, not happening. Bottom line is the organiser of the Rally is not here yet, many of the other boats are, and both they and Jose Azevedo from Cafe Sport are wanting to know what’s what. After an impromptu musical session aboard Sukanuk, and chatting with Jose at dinner in the Cafe, we decided we had to pick up the dropped ball, as he needed to know numbers and arrangements etc for the big dinner the next night, and the organisers weren’t in the harbour or in touch.
So suddenly John and I were IT again; in between loading the next lots of laundry while John sorted out a blocked heads and Ken did some repair work on ssb radios on several boats, we spent Tuesday morning running around chatting to everyone, smoothing ruffled feathers, getting numbers together and then spending an extensive time with Jose about the dinner that evening. Mark did some co-ordinating re the hiring of a bus and bicycles for Wed’s trip round the island and cycle down 6000ft from the crater, and we were in business.
Tuesday
Martin the organiser arrived mid-morning, with t-shirts which we decided had to be given out rather than sold, and some folders he’d made up which I then had to take round to all the boats. Things hopefully in place, but nothing has been arranged for either Terceira or Ponta Delgado. ????
And what a great dinner celebration it was! The OCC is held in great esteem here in the Horta, and Jose is third generation OCC. It is a privilege to be a part of an event here! Between Jose Azevedo and Jaoa Frage, they had done an incredible job – each one of course insisting the other got the benefit of the congratulations, but suffice to say it was fantastic, one of the best OCC evenings I’ve ever been to! Brilliant meal, great conversations – 4 potential new members, 3 qualifiers (with 2 more en route), a circumnavigation completed; well what more can you say? We finally rolled out of Cafe Sport just before midnight, with stern warnings to all to be at the bus by 9.30am – to groans of horror!
Wednesday
9.30am, not exactly bright and cheery, all who had volunteered for the island trip were waiting at the bus: I have a feeling some slept along the way, but never mind! Out to the Capelhinos, the lighthouse that was almost enveloped in ash and debris during the 1957/8 volcano activity. Very interesting little museum, with some stunning photographs of the event, then back around the other side of the island so that we had done a complete circumnavigation by the time we got to the top of the crater. I must just explain that Horta is made up of a series of volcanic craters – there are more mountain peaks here that in the Peak District: you can in fact do a 10-peak walk if you really feel energetic. After a picnic lunch, some took off for a short walk, some walked right around the rim – I crashed out in the sunshine on the grass and had a quiet relaxing time!
Then the “fun” part started: bicycles arrived, we were all given one, and told “you can’t get lost, all roads lead to Horta” – given a puch in the right direction and off we went! A totally hair-raising ride, steeply downhill all the way, from the top of the crater some 16 miles back to Horta – these guys must have invested in the brake-pads company, because boy they sure must go through a zillion a month!! At one stage I had to remind myself to stop grinning because my teeth were plastered with bugs – thank God I was wearing glasses. And all I can remember is thinking “Crikey the grandkids would love this!!!” I was one of the slower ones, and it took me a whole 35 minutes to get down – oi vey Nana! No wonder all the guys in cars passing us were laughing – we must have looked like a bunch of geriatric crazies!
Dinner aboard Nellie was a good close to the day. Tomorrow (Thursday) another bunch of crazies are going over to the next island by ferry to go climb the volcano there – 3-4 hours up, 2 hours down; I’m staying home. I’m sure I can find some more laundry to do!
Long gone are the days when you left the shore, never to be heard of again until you either reached another shore or returned home again. Now you’re available anywhere, almost any time – great for peace of mind for those left behind, but a pain when it comes to never losing those jobs and responsibilities you could do without!
So, when 1000 miles or so offshore between Halifax and Azores a message comes through from my son “mom, problem, your house wall has collapsed”, it was time to spring into gear regardless. By dint of ssb radio and sailmail, we managed to co-ordinate through Garth the hiring of a builder, order and delivery of sand, stone and cement, organise local el cheapo labour – and by the time we arrived in Flores, the wall had been rebuilt. Such are the joys of modern communication, when they work!
When they don’t, however, it’s a real pain! With all the stricter banking regs these days, the UK insists that all account holders have a little gadget to use to create a security pin number – all very good and efficient until your husband uses yours in error to attempt to access his account and manages to gum up the whole system! Try explaining to the little girlie in Bangladore that you’d like the pin reset, no you can’t collect a new gadget because you’re in the Azores, no the Azores are not part of California, no you’re not on a cruise ship but a sailing ship – and what the hell difference does it make what size the ship is, please just help me???
That language is almost as choice as that flying from the middle of the boat as John replumbs the entire for’ard heads!! Another of those responsibilities that can’t be left at home these days – perhaps the old days of bucket and chuck ‘it have their advantage??
So, jobs still to be done – reprovisioning for the next 10 days or so of gadding around the islands; painting our spot of the wall – an age-old tradition here, where every boat paints a portion of the harbour wall for posterity. No real artistic ones amongst the three of us, but we’ll do our best. I’ve been looking as I walk around, and found several names we know – will post them later.
Right now, time to make the man a cuppa – now that he’s got his head out of the heads and washed his hands!
Today was a day of catching up with last minute jobs: we replenished at the Continente yesterday, fabulous supermarket with all sorts of great French goodies to tempt! Trust there's one in Ponta Delgado too! And we had an entertaining evening with Bob Morris and Skip off Apogee, last met in Maine and Bras d'Or, at a terrific little restaurant called A Arvore - all you can eat local buffet for €7. What a bargain!
Then walking home we came across a folk festival, lots of folk in unusual costumes doing unusual dances - most intriguing. Not that I wanted to join in, but the music had a good beat and the kids were really into it.
While John went back to the scrimshaw museum with Pip and co from Lucayo, Ken did a huge wash-down of the decks while I did what I could to finish "the painting" - my artistic skills are not that great, so it looks a bit rough in comparison with some of the masterpieces, but it works. Does the job, as they say. I have taken photos of as many names as I recognise, and will post them as soon as possible.
John checked out, we went out to the anchorage and rafted up with Zahlia and Coromandel for a drinks evening - great fun. I think 6 other boats present, and it was a most convivial evening, topped off with curry aboard Zahlia.
Tomorrow? Well, either a long haul through to Terceira, or a short hop to Sao George - I know which one my money's on!
What an unexpected day that was! We left Horta with absolutely no wind whatsoever, so after taking the sail covers off quite frankly decided the best to not make it a really long day would be to motor over to Sao Jorge. We passed the group of racing boats coming back to Horta from Sao Jorge, spinnakers hanging dejectedly, barely moving, and decided it had been a good choice! Getting in to Sao Jorge was interesting: a skidoo met us at the anchorage entrance, and waved us through very carefully - the annual skidoo races were on, and there were some 10 noisy little machines buzzing at great speed around the yellow buoys - very interesting! One poor chappie came off early on, and had to hang on to the yellow buoy for the rest of the 20 lap race while high speed skidoos spun around him - rather nerve racking, I'd think! Al Shaheen was hanging on the reception wall, all very comfortable, but with an immense drop down to the deck once the tide went out - was a leap of faith every time you clambered off the quay. Not good. But that was soon forgotten when we got the news that there was to be a bull running at 4pm, right opposite us! What a saga! The entire island turns out, perched on the sea wall and atop containers brought in, with the bulls released, one at a time, into an area the size of half a football field below. The bull is "handled" by a series of men in white jackets who have a long rope attached to his neck, and who spend the time running behind him ostensibly to control him. Of course from the bull's point of view, the object is to get as many macho men and kids off the sea wall and into the sea, so great fun is had by all generally. Mishaps occur, there's much laughter and raucous booing when the "clown" with the umbrella almost gets caught - and much consternation when the bull mis-calculates and goes over the side into the sea!! It's a long swim back to the slipway to pull him out again, to say the least, but he's very well cared for all the way. We had dinner out at Formos de Lava - fantastic site way above the town looking out at Pico - a large rondavel with exceptional views in what appears to be a construction site: the waiter told us they're in the process of building a hotel there but there are lots of rusty rebars around, so it might still take a while! I've suggested to John we come back for our 10th anniversary! Coming back to the marina, we were greeted by the most astounding sight - thousands of Corey's shearwaters roosting in the cliffs, laughing and crying until the early hours of the morning. What an experience! Some 10 OCC boats in, everyone doing their own thing until we meet up again in Terceira in a few days.
Another marina, another Jose - this one is the harbour master, and a friendlier man you've never met! "Welcome to Paradise!" was his greeting yesterday and Paradise it turned out to be as we explored the island in tandem with Charlie and Heather today: a veritable deluge to the senses. Thick lush vegetation covers much of the sheer drops down to the ocean; every field is scythed with bulging almost-in-full-bloom hydrangea hedgerows; cattle stand lop-sided in brown fields of new mown hay, chewing contentedly; the little houses packed together along narrow cobbled streets are whitewashed and red-roofed, very Mediterranean. The roads are empty to a large extent, except for the old guy sweeping up the dead leaves and small rocks from a recent rockfall, but the cages on the pavement have a local contingent watching us "touristos" do their thing! We rented a car, and drove a figure of eight across and around the island, getting a feel for a lot of it. From sea level in Sao Jorge, you climb up to caldera level, top of the mountains that run like a dragon's spine down the centre, a series of some 10 old volcanos. 5 of us was a bit of a strain for the little Ford Fiesta! But she managed, with a bit of tender care. Swoop down through beautiful cow country (never saw any sight of the bulls from yesterday though) to the other side of the island and a view out to Graciosa and Terceira - only some 60 miles away, clear in the distance. Then we dropped off the edge of the earth, down, down, down into a little village at sea level where we watched with amazement as a local fishing boat came in on a huge swell, scooted up to a wall and one of the guys jumped ashore to hook their boat up to a crane and pressed the button to lift the boat out with his mate still sitting in it. Very slickly done while John, Ken and Charlie stood with jaws dropping! A little rock pool in the lava made for a playpen for a local dog, and then we migrated to a cafe for hamburgers - not quite American style, but not too bad considering. Although it's a long time since I had carrot as a hamburger filling?? Back on the west end of the island we drove into a cedar forest: completely different situation, but this is what the island must have been like at some stage, as the Azoreans at one time exported cedar. Then back down to the marina and a nap - we're all getting old, you know! Lucayo have arrived, looks like TomBoy and co will be putting on some music this evening in the cloth of= the marina office, and the locals are setting up a stage and stalls up in town so looks like it'll be a musical evening! Early out tomorrow, as it's a long motor to Terceira - no wind forecast!
A long day - we left the marina at Sao Jorge with heavy heart: it had been a delightful stay, and we should have stayed longer! So many wonderful people, so many wonderful sights to see - oh well, another day, another year!
We finished off the evening yesterday with a musical feast aboard Tomboy: Mark on ukelele, Kari on flute, Chris on accordian and Gubby on guitar - what a special evening. Had half the marina dancing along the docks, the other half grinning as they inched past. All in all, had Al Shaheen, Lucayo, Nellie, Lone Rival, Coromandel, Tomboy, Dos Tintos, Zahlia and Narnia last night: Saltwhistle III and Oestara left for ports afar, Vivaldi and Toodle-Oo had already moved to Terceira.
Motored the whole way to Terceira: part way across we decided to carry on to Paria da Vittoria rather than go into Angara, simply becaue it's some 15 miles apart and the thought of anchoring then having to pull up and move on again tomorrow was too much! Good decision - now we can take the bus back to Angara tomorrow instead! A must see, a World Heritage site, so that's the plan for Wednesday.
Bit of a shock when we got in, as suddenly the navtex started working, and the first series of messages said Simo IV had been found abandoned, no persons aboard! Panic!!! Mick Chamberlain, singlehanded, had left us in Horta some 4/5 days back to cross to the UK - what a shock to see the black words on white print! John called Falmouth Rescue, and after some time determined that in fact Mick aboard Simo IV had hit something submerged, set off his plb (personal locator beacon), and has been picked up by a Spanish shipping vessel and will be in Vigo by Friday. Thank God! Delighted to hear he's okay, really sad to hear about Simo.
Wake-up call for us all however; the sea is not a toy to be played with!
A sad end to Simo and devastation for Mick Chamberlain, a resounding finish for Jeanne Socrates on Nereida - singlehanded non-stop circumnavigation at age 70 - Oi vey!
The OCC had another fun event on the mole in front of the beach bar in Praia, with cruisers coming in by taxi from Angra to join us as well. Good evening, topped off again by music from Mark, Kari and Gubby - becoming quite a accomplished trio they are.
Several boats left straight after the barbecue, making for Ponta Delgado, and our crew Ken Baker made arrangements to jump ship! Turns out Pip Wick on Lucayo has a dodgy shoulder and is losing his crew here in Terceira, so Ken suggested sailing with Pip back to Horta where he plans to lay up - bit of a run-around getting a flights etc, but it was all soon organised and Ken left us this morning (Thursday) to join Pip. Sad to see him go, he's been great crew and good to have aboard - now of course I'll have to do more work!! Urgghhh. Oh we'll, the plan was to leave late this evening anyway, so I guess we'll still do that, two up not three. It's about 90 miles, so will be a 15-18 hour trip, so the thought was to start in the night so we don't arrive in the dark.
Spent the day ashore with Nellie and Narnia, taking a taxi across to Angra first of all, wandering around the town, then catching the local bus back. Very interesting old town, although it appears most of the buildings are closed up so you can only see the outside. Stopped for morning coffee and croissants, and after 15 minutes of sorting out financial who-owed-who-what, we left without paying the waitress! Most embarrassed, John had to scramble back with frantic apologies. Still, she was nice enough to accept us back for lunch later, after we explained that Heather would undertake to pay this time!
So, watch the Spot, we'll probably be taking off this evening!
Overnight trip from Praia da Vittorio into the large marina at Ponta Delgada - what's with this weather here in the Azores?? I mean, everyone talks about the Azores high etc, but we've seen no sun for the past 4 days, last night was absolutely pitch black, no moon, no stars, no horizon - I stared at a dot of light for about 20 minutes trying to determine whether it was a masthead light or a star low on the horizon before finally determining it had to be a sailboat light some miles away! Even the phosphorescence in the sea is diluted, just the occasional flash.
And no wind whatsoever - most disappointing. In fact, that's been the theme of the trip to the Azores - lovely islands, lovely people, good food - but no wind at all. So as an alternative for the Caribbean, it's just not on, I'm afraid. Water's not as blue, sailing's not as good - but it is closer and easier to get to from Europe and the UK!
Interestingly, there's a bunch of new OCC boats here, who we haven't seen before on the Rally: Harold Sammer on Tanimani, Peter Paternotte on Gateway, Michael Eykers on Cajou, Henry Capleton on Endelig - also Vivaldi, Abracadabra and Sadko are in, so it's a more European group this.
Ken as I said has left us, but will fly back in from Horta on Sunday to fly out to USA again, so we are on our own at the moment until Terry and John van S join us on Monday. So, order of jobs to be done:
clean boat, inside and out!! Tell me, how does the boat get so full of dust when we're on the water most of the time??
Sort out lockers for Terry and John;
sort out food stores, then reprovision for the last leg. I spent last night on watch deciding which lockers I was going to change around in order to repack the provisions etc in a more accessible way - with 4 of us on board for the last 1200 or so miles, the saloon berths are going to be full of sleeping bodies a lot of the time and not easy to get into!
Laundry - and a long. hot shower!!!
Mechanical hassles - may have a steerage problem, but the guys here will sort that out over the weekend.
Other than that, apparently this weekend is festival time, so we're going to be enjoying ourselves!
Sat was the festival of the Holy Spirit Bread ( that might be a guess at a translation, but it was definitely spirits Santo and they were handing out truckloads of bad everywhere!). Parades in front of the marina, folk dancing and music ALL night in the square just up the drag - it was quite an event. Kicked off at noon with about a quarter mile of tables laid out, everyone sat, were fed soup and bread. Once you were done, you vacated your seat and someone else sat - I have no idea how many were fed, but it must must been hundreds!
The parade was a delight, very local, lots of little pick-ups decorated with oodles of tissue paper and flower roses, little bells tinkling. Quite unique. Followed later in the evening by a session of folk-dancing in traditional dress, and then by some very loud not so very good music! By which time, however, we'd retired and quite frankly slept through most of it!
Had a great time over drinks aboard Al Shaheen with Harold and Beatte from Tankwani, Peter Paternotte who's just singlehanded in from Portugal, and Jon and Cindy from Abracadabra.
Then today (Sunday) it was re-provision day: long walk up the hill past streets decorated wi flowers on the Tarmac (the festival still goes on) to the Continente to stock up for the next 10-12 days. I'd spent part of yesterday re-arranging all the lockers to make stuff more easily accessible - now I just have to find the space to pack all this pile of food in!! Several meals to pre-cook today, stuff to freeze - all of which means I need to get off this wifi connection, back to the boat, and get started!
New crew aboard as Terry Folinsbee and John van Schalkwyk joined us from Nova Scotia yesterday, farewells to several OCC as Sadko, Vivaldi and Nellie left Ponta Delgada, and Zahlia and Narnia left Praia da Vittoria. Saltwhistle III, ToodleOo and are already way out there, some sailing with light winds, some motoring. Chris Parker says if we leave today ie Tuesday, we should have some wind until at least Thursday - so we're on our way!
It's been a good stay in ponta, not explored the island at all as there have just been too many boat jobs to do and preparations to make to get her ready for another big jump, but we've had lots of fun with members etc. Taniwani (Harold & Bette), Abracadabra (Jon & Cindy) and Lantana Coromanda (Brain & Clare) joined us, along with Gateway (Peter Paternotte) who sailed solo from Lisbon after his crew fell ill. Great to have met them all, and enjoyed their company. The OCC is a wonderful group of people!
So, we've managed to stow another two people's stuff, sort out bunking arrangements, fill the water tanks, take down the masthead burgee and other flags, and we're a for away.
Next blog will be care of " my editor" Peter Dodd back in Mahone Bay - thanks Peter!
From John:
We finally left Ponta Delgada today (16 July) at 1100z and motored westwards along the south coast of Sao Miguel. We had a forecast of SSE/S winds at 15-20 knots but are still looking for it. We sailed for a few hours on a northerly course, even touching 7 knots for a while but the wind died away and we are motoring at reduced revs to conserve fuel. We have a range of 5-600 miles and our forecast wind, when we find it, will expire by Thursday night so we'll certainly be motoring from then for a couple of days.
It looks like being a very slow trip and we'll be very short of fuel by the time we get near Ireland.
All is well on board with a strong crew - John van S and Terry Folinsbee both joined us from Nova Scotia in Ponta Delgada. Chicken curry tonight!
Nearly 1100 miles to go to Kinsale.
Oi vey - what a night. We left at 11am yesterday, motored out past the island, enthusiastically set the sails, and wimped along for the next 20 something hours, sometimes motoring, sometimes drifting at about 2.5 knots.
This sailing lark is just that - a lark. It appears there's always only too much wind or too little wind: the radio net this morning- ToodleOo up at 45N 25W had 30-35 knots all night while we had 3-4 knots at 39N 21W all night!! What a pain - some nice steady 15-20 knots as promised by Chris Parker would be great!
We had 7 of the OCC boats up on the net this morning, all reporting much the same; some no wind, some just enough. We can only trust it will fill in somewhere along the line so we can sail: we certainly don't carry enough fuel to motor all the way to Ireland, so we are at the mercies of the wind (or lack of in this case!) But somehow it is comforting to know that we're not the only ones in this position, and good to chat with the other boats. So we've done 106 miles so far, only another 1100 to go!
The four of us have settled into some sort of routine: I've been granted a stay of execution and don't have to do watches - on condition I do the cooking and cleaning! I'm delighted with this arrangement, although I have to say that the expected 6-7 hours sleep didn't materialise last night as the boom and mainsail crashed around with the lack of wind, somehow far more disturbing than if there'd been lots of wind! John van S has taken the forepeak, nice and flat position at the moment but a tad different if the wind does pick up, I'd think: Terry and John have the two saloon berths, and I've slid myself into the pilot berth to stay out of everyone's way. So officially everyone gets a 5-6 hour off-watch period and a 3 hour watch (except for me of course).
Traditional Al Shaheen curry for dinner last night, will have to use the lettuce for salad lunch today as it's frozen and will go off soon. Dinner tonight? Either fish pie or good old British sausages and mash.
John reports:
Last night was very frustrating. We were either motoring at reduced revs to conserve fuel, or ghosting along under sail at 2.7 knots. Either way, with a sloppy swell, all the gear was crashing about. Today has been a little better with a SSE breeze but less than 10 kts. We have been making 5.5 kts most of the day but it has fallen light again now and we face the prospect of motoring again but with the certain knowledge that we shall require all our diesel for later in the trip.
Meanwhile, other boats which left 2 days ahead of us are powering along with 20 kts of wind....
Day's run to noon was only 10 miles.
Present position at 2100z is 40-07N/025-36W with 970 miles to go!
3am: Have just spent the second night at sea, completed two full days - and done a whole 196 miles. At this stage we could be in Ireland within the next 20 days or so???
We have just about no wind: the main slats around, crashing the boom against the mast with an horrifying crunch and twisting grind as the sail flaps from side to side - sleep is next to impossible unless you're wearing one of those big expensive pairs of earphones! We appear to be getting nowhere fast, but as John van S says, the only difference between where we are going and where we want to go is one consonant - we're aiming for Ireland but actually sailing/drifting toward Iceland!
It's just after 3am; the two Johns have decided to tack and pole the genoa out to starboard (it's been on port for the last 24 hours), and suddenly we have 14 knots of wind, the main has filled, the crashing has abated, the wind generator has just started for the first time since we left Ponta Delgada and we're doing 5.6 knots. Maybe we'll get there by the end of July after all!
In the meantime, I'm going back to bed, see if I can catch some zzzs.
9am: Amazing what a difference a few hours makes! Having made the change from 355 degrees to 040 degrees, we've been storming along at 7.5 knots since 3am - a good 15 knot breeze, slight heel to the boat but nothing uncomfortable. Why didn"t we do this earlier??
The radio net this morning reported everyone chugging along nicely, except Vivaldi, en route to Lisbon, with no wind and nervous about fuel. He has a shorter trip than us all, hope he gets the wind soon.
John writes:
Well, what a change!
At 0300 last night, on instructions from our weather router, we took in the genoa pole, gybed onto starboard and headed off to the north east on a broad reach. We immediately picked up speed and were soon up to 7.5 knots on a course of 040T. At that time the seas were down so we stormed off into the night with a wind of about 14 kts.
By dawn the wind was up and the seas were up and our speed was up to 8 knots most of the time. By midday the ride was getting wild so we took in a reef, with no loss of speed but more comfort down below.
This has continued all day except that the wind has now eased a little. It has been a humid day with 100% cloud, poor visibility and now a little light rain. Day 2 noon to noon run was 150 miles - it should be more today. We have passed the 300 mile mark and it is now 850 miles to Kinsale.
There is a complex weather system ahead and we'll either run out of wind by Friday night, or have too much!
Friends in Nova Scotia, Maine, Connecticut and England are all reporting extreme heat - 35 degrees or more, and a huge HIGH has been sitting over NW Europe which is determining our passage time. It is too early to say but it may be a struggle to make landfall in Kinsale, but we'll settle for any pub along the SW coast of Eire.
Position at 2000z is N42-05/W023-49. Our Spotmeister has been busy so no doubt some of you are getting a stream of positional information.
(Editor's Note: Not all of the SPOT messages have been coming through. It has to do with the satellites for GlobalStar, which are not in position to receive all the messages.)
John/Jenny/van S and Terry
John writes:
Friday 19 July. 2000z. Present position N43-47/W021-40. Day's run noon/noon 155 miles. Total to noon 415 miles. total distance to Kinsale, 710 miles.
The wind fell light early this morning and it was sloppy and frustrating for a while, then the wind started veering as a weak cold front passed through. We set poles, handed poles, gybed and tried various sail configurations until the wind established itself from the SSW. We then set off on a beam reach in the right direction and have spent all day reaching at 6+ knots in sunshine - just glorious sailing. It still continues and hopefully will hold during the night.
From early tomorrow we are expecting the wind to die and there to be no usable wind UNTIL MAYBE THURSDAY! By that time (early Saturday) we will still be 650 miles from Kinsale and our remaining diesel will take us maybe 550 to 600 miles. There is a suggestion of light easterly winds off the Irish cost on Thursday, but they will be headwinds and it will be touch and go to see if we have enough fuel. We could be out here for weeks! It is going to be very frustrating but there's not much we can do about it.
From where we are now it is probably 140 miles shorter to La Coruna in northern Spain, but we don't have much enthusiasm for diverting there as we would still have to get back across the Bay of Biscay.
There are 5 OCC boats ahead of us which set off before us and they are all considerably closer to UK/Ireland. We talk daily on the SSB.
533 miles down, only another 633 to go - but after a good day's sailing yesterday and through the night in light but steady winds, the wind is now doing as predicted and dying away! Before the day is out, I think we'll be motoring - we need to sail as far as we can, as best calculations are that we have some 500 miles worth of fuel left; not enough to reach Ireland yet.
But at least we're going in the right direction, even if slowly. Iceland has been cancelled out of our reckoning! There was some talk yesterday of the possibilities of peeling off and making for La Coruna on the north-west tip of Spain, but that was also ruled out as we'd still have to get across the Bay of Biscay etc afterwards, and all that would add is mileage and a refuel stop. So we'll plod on: after all, Al Shaheen's a sailboat, so sail we will. Might take us a while, but like the tortoise, we'll get there eventually!
But it's been a good trip - the team works well, lots of good conversation and chatter, and I think now we're in a routine, enough sleep for all. Doesn't stop folks nodding off, but at least we're not all exhausted. Heard from ToodleOo on this morning's net that they've still got lots of wind, expect to be in Ireland by tomorrow night - they've had a minimum of 20 knots the entire trip! Broke a shackle on a checkstay, but otherwise all fine. Both Sadko and Narnia (off to the west of us) must have run into the low we saw on the grib files, because they both reported bad weather with big seas, rain and lightning. We're catching up to Zahlia, but they are a slower boat anyway - and have been fishing, with a big tuna for dinner last night!
So all in all, things going well.
John writes:
Our wind finally died early this morning and sailing became impossible in the swell, which is about 3-4 metres. the rig thrashes around and all the wind is thrown out of the sails by the inertia of the boat. We stowed the main and lashed down the boom in its crutch, stowed the genoa and started the engine. We are trying to conserve fuel so limit engine revs to 2000, but with the sea conditions we could barely make 5 kts. Later we found that with the jib we increased speed by about 1 knot.
Later we tried flying the cruising chute but, without engine, that only gave us 3 knots max. Now back to engine plus jib and 5.3 kts.
After 4 days elapsed to 1100 today we had covered 536 miles, almost all sailing, an average of 134 miles per day. Not bad considering the light conditions.
Present position at 1930z. N45-02/W019-36 with 590 miles to go, so we are halfway but with the far more difficult half to come, in terms of sailing conditions. Life aboard is quite difficult with a dreadful rolling motion of the boat without the stabilising influence of the sails.
Still no wind: we tried the spinnaker late yesterday for a while, great to see this huge yellow and green parachute up there, and it tickled us along for about two hours very gently before flopping totally. Of course as so often happens, it was a hassle getting it down - for some reason it all got stuck at the top of the mast and took some wiggling and finagling to get it down. Still, all eventually successfully socked and stored with no damage to anything or anyone. We have actually stowed the main, as otherwise it slops and bangs and crashes around in this light wind, doing absolutely nothing except making a hell of a noise and some potential damage to the rig!
So, at 1kn through the water, skipper John succumbed and put the engine on again. Then spent the next 12 hours awake doing both physical and mental calculations as to whether we have enough fuel to get to Ireland! Right now it looks as if we'll be making for Crookhaven rather than Kinsale (taking some 50/60 miles off the journey) as Chris Parker's latest forecast seems to suggest this would be better for us. Need to check with our local Port Officers what facilities are available.
It's a fairly sloppy sea at the moment, so Al Shaheen rolls like a pig at times usually just as I'm pouring boiling water into teacups or out of the pasts pot! We've all at one time or the other taken a dive across the cabin in a roll: no matter how much you hang on, it's that second when you either lose concentration or let go the handhold that the boat rolls and throws you off balance. However, no damage done to anyone or anything - which is better than past history - our previous big crossing from Beaufort NC to BVI saw our crew smash into the instrument panel and blow the auto-pilot, and on another trip down in the BVI, a friend on board smashed into the galley and bent the stainless steel bar in front of the stove! So I think we're doing pretty well for a bunch of old fogies wobbling around a constantly unstable platform!
The radio net this morning told us we'd overtaken Zahlia, who were becalmed for some time yesterday with no wind at all: Kari is a purist, and will not use her engine, so if there's no wind, they don't move! She's a serious purist too - Zahlia has some 30 000 miles on the clock, much the same as Al Shaheen, but we have done almost 4000 engine hours within that 30 000, while she's done 150! Other than that, Toodle-Oo, who were due to make landfall in Ireland tonight, are now planning to be in tomorrow - not sure why as their radio was very broken: Saltwhistle III have decided to go to the Scillies instead and should be in tomorrow: Narnia are some 100 miles ahead of us and now planning to go to Baltimore (Ireland) to drop off Gubby, their crew; Sadko and Vivaldi never came up so we don't know quite what their stories are right now.
Interestingly, we have 3 different GPS facilities aboard at the moment; the two on the boat, and van S has a small handheld. There is a problem with the correlation between the 2 boat signals, which are giving us two slightly different readings - but at least van S's agrees with one of them! Always good to have extra info.
So we're in good shape, all told - dreaming of fish and chips in an Irish pub.
1100. Transformation! Some wind came up at 0900 from dead astern. Rather than setting the main and having the rig crash around in the swell we went into our "Trade Wind Rig" with both headsails set on poles each side. No noise, no consumption of fuel, reduced rolling, AND 6-7 knots. We haven't used this rig since John crossed the Atlantic in 2002, but it works wonderfully in these conditions, i.e wind dead aft and a big swell.
John writes:
We motored all last night and, having been told that we would see no usable wind until Thursday, I spent the night trying to estimate fuel consumption at various engine revs and optimise boat speed for minimal fuel consumption. I concluded that we would probably just make it to Baltimore or somewhere in the SW, if we had to motor the remaining 500 miles.
Then, at 0800 today we got an unexpected wind from the WSW which rapidly increased to 15-17 knots. We had previously stowed the mainsail and lashed down the boom because of the large swell. Not wanting to hoist the main again in the swell, we set up our Trade Wind rig - with both headsails set on poles, one each side. We hadn't used this setup since the Atlantic crossing of 2002, when we had carried it for 16 days. Once set, we were off at 6.5 to 8 knots, dead downwind, with much less rolling than when under engine.
We have carried this all day and it looks as if it will continue all night. This unexpected bonus relieves the pressure on fuel. This evening it is overcast with some light rain.
Position at 2000z N46-38/W017-21. Distance to Kinsale 458 miles and about 40 miles less to Schull which will probably be our destination.
Our following wind carried on all night and through today until an hour ago when it fell off light after a weak front passed through and we had to start motoring. We still have a huge swell which makes for most unpleasant rolling. We managed 148 miles noon/noon, all under the Trade Wind Rig and it was very easy sailing with only gentle rolling and no crashing of gear. We have left the poles rigged in case the wind comes back again.
Present plans are to head for Schull which is now 300 miles away and we should be in there on Thursday morning. It is difficult to say what wind conditions we will get before then but it looks as if we might still get a westerly wind of 10-15 knots.
Two other OCC boats, which left before us, have now reached port; Toodle-oo in Glengarriff in Bantry Bay and Saltwhistle III in St Mary's in the Scillies. Our friends in Narnia should reach Baltimore tonight.
Despite all the Skipper's worries and concerns about fuel, we have actually managed to sail most of the way so far - a few periods of motoring for maybe 10-12 hours at a time, but as soon as there's a hint of wind, off goes the engine and out come the sails! So now we have more than enough fuel to get us to Ireland - and beyond if necessary! For the past 3 days or so we have been sailing under what John calls his "tradewind rig" - twin headsails poled out, one on either side, filled by the wind from astern and scooting us along merrily at 6-7 knots: eta Schull to make landfall is now late Weds night/early hours of Thursday morning. Boy will I sleep well then!
Of course like all things, nothing is straightforward, least of all making landfall after 9 days at sea. We took our anchor off before we left the Azores and stowed it way down in the forward anchor locker, so that it wouldn't bounce around on the bow in any kind of storm or bad weather - all very well, but once again it means we can't anchor when we first arrive anywhere. Certainly can't or don't want to put the anchor back on while out in a rolly bouncy sea! But we've made contact with the Port Officer in Schull, who also heads up the sailing school there, and he's arranged for us to pick up one of the visitor moorings in the harbour, so we can put the anchor back on hopefully in the shelter of the harbour. Chris Parker (weather guru) also tells us there are 'convective squalls' coming through just as we're due to arrive, with winds gusting up to 40-50 knots - all my life I've wanted to go into a strange harbour, at night, with 40-50 knots of wind up my tail!!
It's interesting watching the different styles of the team: Terry is an excellent spotter when on watch - he's the one who's picked up all the whales and dolphins, seen the rare ship passing, knows exactly what's happening with the wind and the weather. John van S is very keyed to the mechanics of the sails and the movement of the boat, adjusts and tweaks to keep her going at her absolute maximum; he's also a great journalist and keeps his journal up to date all the time! Skipper John oversees it all, managing incoming information and worrying about when and where and how, then after discussion with the crew makes the decisions! All in all, a good group. Me, I stay out of everyone's way and simply keep the galley going: breakfasts are each one's own affair, but lunch and dinner and in-betweeners and late-night snacks is my baby and in return I don't have to stand watch - a bargain for me!
So, as to the rest of the crowd: Saltwhistle III are tucked up in the Scillies, Toodle Oo slept late in Glangarriff this morning after a storming passage with big winds and big seas the whole way (they snapped a backstay shackle en route, and also had a winch pop apart - fortunately all the bits fell onto the deck and were recovered!), Narnia should be in Baltimore too: Zahlia are quite some way behind us now with light winds, having sadly caught 2 shearwaters in their fishing line eysterday; Sadko are to the east of us, motoring for Wales; Vivaldi finally got the wind they needed (after a frantic email to ask if we knew where they could refuel at sea!) and are making for Lagos; Lucayo (the boat our previous crew Ken moved to to help) are in Horta, and Lone Rival are en route to the Canaries. Nellie was in Santa Maria, but we've not heard whetehr they've decided to go back to Horta or make for Spain/Portugal or even Ireland - watch this space!
So, hoping for another good day: we only have another 217 miles to go!
Position at 2100z N49-43/W012-08
Distance to Schull: 146 miles
We have carried our Trade Wind Rig all day again and it looks as if it will now take us all the way to the Fastnet Rock. Last night was a perfect night with a cloudless sky and a near full moon. The wind was up and down but during the day it has been steady at 15 kts and from the SW which is perfect for our course of 043T.
The day started sunny but it clouded over and the wind increased to 20 kts giving a boat speed of 7.5 knots. This evening it is raining and we have had a squall to 30 kts. The forecast tonight is for convective squalls to 50 kts. When the squalls come through we have to wind in half of each headsail, which is all done from the safety of the cockpit. Visibility is poor tonight and we are already experiencing some shipping bound for northern Europe, so we have our AIS activated.
It is difficult to predict exact time of arrival in Schull but it looks as if it will be after dark so we are hoping for better visibility tomorrow.
Position at 1600z. N51-12/W010-00
Distance to Schull: 25 miles. ETA 2000z
We ran all night downwind but on our rhumb line with 25 kts behind us and boat speeds 7.5 - 8.5 knots. I came on deck at 0300 to find we were doing 9 kts with 30 knots behind us. We wound in both headsails halfway and cut the speed to 6 knots. Then the wind backed 60 degrees and we had to head almost due north to fill the sails. On this course we would have missed Ireland altogether. Then the wind strengthened further and as soon as I had decided to take down both poles w ehad a violent rain squall to 35 knots.
0500 found van S and myself on the foredeck with mountainous seas, 35 kts of wind and torrential horizontal rain. We stowed the poles, sorted out all the lines and set a heavily reefed jib to port (no main) and were back on our rhumb line again at 7 knots.
By 1200z the wind had moderated and abruptly veered from SE to west and dropped to 5 knots. We have been motoring since then in order to get into Schull tonight.
The boat got very wet from all our wet gear but we now have sunshine and are drying out slowly. Jenny did an incredible job making macaroni cheese for lunch with the boat bucking wildly in the residual swell. We have just passed the 1100 mile mark and it now looks as if we should be in Schull before dark tonight. Terry has just sighted land!
Editor's Note:
Yes, they have arrived in Schull, Ireland. I had a phone call from Terry this evening, and I am sure there have been many other phone calls. I wlll post any news when it gets to me.
Congratulations, Al Shaheen
1136 nautical miles, 9 days and 10 hours, and we're snug as bugs in a rug, tied off to a huge yellow buoy in Schull Harbour - what a pleasure! We celebrated the end of the passage with cheese and biscuits and rum and coke in the cockpit, under a beautiful Irish moon, looking out at the welcoming warm lights ashore - looking forward to the morning and a good hot shower, but totally satisfied that we were safe in harbour.
It had been a long day - started at 5.30am with 30-35 knots of wind suddenly, blasting the tradewind rig and making Al Shaheen feel as if she was going to trip over her toes any minute. Mad scramble to get the genoa and jib furled, and then some crazy foredeck work by the 2 Johns with Terry on the guys back in the cockpit to drop and stow the two poles without being chucked overboard - nerve-racking! Of course none of this sort of stuff is ever done in calm weather - it was horizontal rain and big gusts of wind and very nasty big choppy seas - my heart needless to say was in my mouth but all three guys came back into the cockpit grinning like apes - such fun, they said!!! So good to prove they could actually do it, beat the elements. Is that the difference between men and women?? Men will always go chasing the potential for fun, women see the potential for disaster? Oh well, they say you can't have a decent passage unless you've had at least one storm, and this was really only a minor one, so I'll live with it!
So tomorrow is: put the Commodore's burgee back up the top of the mast, blow the dinghy up, clean up the boat, clear Customs and Immigration (with two Canadians aboard, we can't just sneak in, I'm afraid!), do the laundry - lots of bags of dirty washing!!), get rid of the garbage - several big black bags full. Then it'll be time to explore what looks like a delightful little town!
Vincent O'Farrell has been a huge help coming in - he's not the Port Officer, David Harte is, who has also been very quick to come forward to assist, so it will be good to meet up with them both tomorrow. Wonderful to have people like this to welcome you into a strange place - the OCC port officer chain is an excellent one.
So, a good long sleep with no interruptions for watch changes, in a flat berth on a flat anchorage, calls urgently!
Life after making landfall has been hectic, to say the least! Full-on Irish hospitality, and lots to see and do.
Vince O'Farrell, long time OCC member and wonderfully entertaining man, picked us up on Thursday morning at the dock, and item of first order (after getting rid of the bags of garbage from 9 days at sea) was to drive us round to have coffee with Sheena Jolley, Skipper John's ex and the lady who travelled with him for the first two years in the Caribbean - to say that was a surprise was an understatement! However it was a delight: she has just renovated a 200 year old water mill, which came complete with mill wheel and river running through it, and we had a great time exploring this (John is itching to complete the renovation and get the old mill working!), and looking over her photography gallery.
Then it was back to the docks to meet the Customs man, who'd come down from Bantry - Customs and Immigration was very Irishly civil, down out on the bonnet of the car on the dock! His thick brogue thickened with amusement when we all asked for a stamp in our passports "Begorrah and surely," he smiled and stamped away.
Back into the very cute town of Schull (one main street crammed with pubs and bars and cafes and coffee shops - the town dies after the summer season apparently) for lunch in a tapas bar - Spanish menu and Spanish waiter who couldn't speak English so it was a case of point to something on the menu and take what comes! We landed up with a variety of croquettes, chorizo, a very complex salad of crushed tomatoes and other stuff - but an entertaining lunch. Then John went off back to the boat and to do emails etc, while Vince took the rest of us on a tour of the area - he'd dropped the laundry while we were at Sheena's (7 bags, and inadvertently he dropped in the bag of clean clothes van S had brought to change into after showering so had those washed too!) and we had several hours to kill before we could collect them. So, off down the most attractive lanes and byways hedged with fuschias - can you imagine hedgerows of fuschias??? Too beautiful for words! Up to the top of the mountains for a glorious view of the headlands of Mizzenhead and round to Bantry Bay - stunning.
Then round to Ballydehop (I kid you not!) to collect the laundry - what fun. The laundry is run in the back room of the local hardware shop, by a friendly but fussy old man who was completely overwhelmed by all our bags of laundry - with only one big washer and 3 small dryers, it was a mission! I landed up helping him fold the last 3 bags while he fussed about, worrying that he'd confused our stuff with someone else's and insisting I check every pair of underpants and socks - bit difficult as I'd never actually seen either van S or Terry's underwear! But 40 minutes later we were on our way again, all laundry present and accounted for and no extra oddments.
The radio was blaring in the car by this time, with the Irish weather report. "There might be rain in the north," said the lyrical voice. "But there might be rain in the south too. And there might also be rain over the whole of Ireland." Is that calling covering your butt??
Back to meet John at O'Regan's Bar, where the wifi signal was strong, the bar initially empty apart from 3 drunken louts, one sleeping it off on the settee, two swearing loudly at the bar. They had come down from Dublin for a wedding, but I doubt they made the wedding - they were barely able to stand, and finally staggered away up the street leaning heavily on each other, just as the bar filled up with all the locals coming in for a pint or two before going home to the missus. Vince introduced us to several of the latter, including Derek (who had owned Sheena's home previously and is David Harte's father (David is our new Port Officer but he was out running the International Dinghy Regatta so we hadn't met him yet). Couple pints of the dark later (John by now somewhat unsteady on his feet - first alcohol in 10 days and on an empty stomach!), and we were off to the fish and chip shop for dinner. Then out to the boat, and a drop into bed.
Friday the two Johns went ashore early and came back with fresh croissants, David Harte came aboard and we welcomed him into the "order of Port Officers" then it was ashore for an extensive internet time at the Schull Sailing School, up to town for a crepe and apple pie lunch at the local patisserie, grocery shopping and reprovisioning, back for a shade more internet. Another pint at O'Regan's just to show there was no hard feelings, then back to the boat for a dinner of fresh mussels, salmon with little potatoes and green beans and fresh strawberries.
Life is good!
Well, I've gone and done it now! Fallen totally and completely In love with Ireland - its people, its friendliness, its language, its music, its stone buildings, its nooks and crannies. Might this be our next home??
We tootled slowly down the coast from Schull, stopping overnight at Castletownshend (slow town, not much happening, even the fabled MaryAnne's Restaurant was half empty and the famous trees in the middle of the road seem to have shrunk in size??), then another overnight at Glandore, which was humming!
We arrived in the middle of the last day of the Rowing Regatta, and after anchoring way out of the lanes etc, we walked around to Unionhall to watch - lovely walk through the rain and drizzle to the fishing harbour where everything was happening. Great excitement as coxes shouted out the timings for their rowers and the commentator ran down the lists as if he was calling a horse race! By midday we bailed and meandered into the town itself, which was abuzz with activity - buskers on street corners singing their hearts out, a magician with a great line of patter commanding attention, street stands selling everything from home printed greeting cards to home backed cookies (we skipped the first, bought a dozen of the second!). Very lively.
And then it was off to Kinsale, a long sail of about 30 miles! Arrived with a strong tide and winds howling off the headland, and blew in to the dockside with Bill and Laurie Balme there to catch our lines. They'd made it from Terceira to Glengarriff in 7 days, 25-30 kn of wind the whole way! Lost the bolts on the drum of their headsail furler, so are looking for some potential repairs. Frank Godsell arrived to greet us, alternate PO for Flor Long, and we were shepherded around the other side of the dock into a comfortable berth, shown the Kinsale Yacht Club, and made ourselves at home.
Dinner the first night at Jim Edwards - great meal if extremely noisy: dinner the next night at The White House, resplendent with mementoes and a memorial to 9/11 and the Irish Firefighters, another excellent meal. Yesterday was spent in the Clubhouse, on the internet, catching up with the world and its happenings - which basically means catching up with some 180 OCC emails!!
Last night I went out with Bill and Laurie to Daltons Pub - great singalong Irish music by a group of elderly gents playing squashboxes, guitars and spoons with a lead singer who turns 90 next week! Tonight? Not sure yet - it's miserable and cold and raining here today after a week or so of beautiful sunshine, so we'll see what develops.
Wonderful Ireland! From pub get-togethers with a bunch of elderly gents playing spoons and squash box to a dynamic 24 strong luncheon of members coming in to Kinsale from as far away as Dublin, we have had nothing but music and friendliness since we arrived!
Harvey Kenney welcomed us to lunch with "Gentle Jesus so sublime, you changed the water into wine. Please forgive these sailing men who want to change it back again." Having set the tone, things only got better! A sense of excitement and enthusiasm was strongly present, to the point that we had an offer from a longtime member who felt it would be good for him to give back and become a port officer: that sort of enthusiasm is wonderful.
The weather has unfortunately changed for the worse, being wet and rainy for the past few days now so we'll probably only leave for Scillies Sat at the earliest and if it doesn't look right, we'll skip the islands and sail straight for UK and Falmouth - the plan is to be back by 15th August, to celebrate an 11 year Atlantic circuit - considering the original plan was for only one year, it's not a bad achievement.
Terry flies back to Nova Scotia tomorrow, we'll be sad to see him go. But he says the sun's shining back there, so I think he's in a different frame of mind! Hopefully we'll have some sun tomorrow so we can at least do some walking around Kinsale!
Apparently it's always either the Isles of Scilly or Scilly, never the Scillies, so apologies first off! He a really boisterous trip overnight from Crosshaven Ireland; weather forecasters got it all wrong!! I was also feeling somewhat depleted, no energy, headachy, very miserable, so quite happily crawled back into bed after feeding the two Johns and left everything up to them! Surfaced every now and then only to hold myself onto the edge of the pilot berth when things that ended to pitch me out, but others e kept my head down, as they say.
But today's a beautiful day, we're moored just behind the St Mary's lifeboat, of international fame for umpteen rescues, including the Torrey Canyon disaster, manned by volunteers who are renowned for the seamanship and bravery.
Amazing the difference a day makes - and the sunshine of course! Very busy little town - St Mary's jumps from 1500 inhabitants year round to 100 000 in the season - ouch!
We've been incredibly fortunate with weather here: it has been absolutely gorgeous! Sunny but not too hot, reflecting off the white sand beaches and blue water - memories of the Caribbean except no palm trees.
The anchorage in St Agnes is reached by crossing the Tresco Flats from St Mary's: as these are marked as 0.9m at low water, careful navigation and high water is necessary, especially with a keel of almost 2m. But some cautious eyeballing and tentative negotiation got us through without even scraping - although looking at the track later at low water we all gasped!
The anchorage is now full of moorings, all of which were taken by the time we got in, meaning we had to find an anchoring position in the midst of everyone else, always a difficult task. However, with good crew everything's possible and we were soon snugly anchored just below the hangman Noose on the Rock. Then watched in amazement as a French boat came and anchored inches in front of us - our Skipper stormed to the bow and stood watching with a very English beady eye, not saying a word, until finally intimidated they moved away!
We spent the morning in the Tresco Gardens, pretty tropical and quite spectacular. Huge plantings of gloriosa daisies, watsonias, day lilies and agapanthus exploding with colour, golden pheasants striding through the dark green foliage. All very impressive.
A lunch at the New Inn (pretty old), then the 2 Johns walked out to Cromwells Castle while I did some wifi and caught up with life generally. Back out to the boat for dinner and an early night after all the exertion. Friday we were off before dawn quite cracked, with 160m to go to Falmouth. We left the Seven Stones way to port (scene of the Torrey Canyon disaster), and joined a queue of small boats aiming in the same direction - seems like today was sailing to England day. Suddenly lots of big shipping as we crossed the traffic separation zones, but no dangers. A good sail, light but steady breeze, and by 5pm we could see Pendennis Castle and the entrance to Falmouth. Unfortunately it's Falmouth week, so every where's full - plus the marinas here answer to channel M or 37, and our American radio doesn't have channel M or 37! However, a spare green buoy popped up opposite the Royal Cornwall YC, we zapped it with the happy hooker, and called for the water taxi to go ashore for showers and some exploring.
We're in the UK again at last: 11 years almost to the day that Al Shaheen left on a one year Atlantic circuit, she has returned! Older, slightly battered - some 31838 miles under her belt but still fleet of foot and extremely seaworthy! Well done Al Shaheen!
Back in Sutton Harbour, 11 years after Al Shaheen left - we left Halifax Nova Scotia on 15th June, and tied up here in Plymouth UK on 12th August, after a series of good ocean passages and two good rallies!
The Ho is buzzing - lots of noise and activity. Sirens blaring, car horns blasting, motorbikes roaring, people shouting - this life off the ocean wave is pretty noisy! However, we apparently slept right through a helicopter rescue in Falmouth Harbour, so I guess we can't be too attuned.
Time for a hot shower, after we've sampled the free coffee at the marina office, then we'll hit the town. The Big City calls!
Oi vey - this is going to be an expensive return! So far we have had two sets of people coming down to give quotes for a repaint of Al Shaheen, with one more to come at the end of the week: the riggers aboard to check out the standing rigging and determine why there is so much slogger on the gooseneck of the boom: a visit to the chandlery to replace fenders and docklines which we burst and snapped in Flores Azores: and now my laptop has decided that 25000km of desert dust and 20000nm of sea and salt have just been too much and it has put it's legs in the air and died on me!
So watch this space - we might be looking for jobs soon!
On the other hand, we have been offered a delightful little one-bedroom cottage in Flaunden, fairly close to Emma, as a temporary rent, so we have a home until such time as we leave for South Africa. Assuming we make a quickish decision on who to use for a repaint job, Al Shaheen will be out on the hard being prepped etc by late Sept, after the Southampton Boat Show, and we will move ashore again. Then make inroads into looking for someone to purchase ourselves!
Until then, it's marina life - here in Sutton Harbour it's very gracious living, wifi on the deck, free coffee all day, cafes and restaurants just around the corner - all very nice. The Fastnet Race is finishing here today, lots of sirens going as the finishers come in around the corner in yacht Haven, there's the International Fireworks Display this evening - more excitement than we've seen for many years!
Talk later!
Timeously, we arrived in Plymouth to gat fireworks - literally! The annual International Fireqorks competition took place over the past two nights, and to say it was spectacular is an understatement. The first night we made the hike up to the top of the Hoe and sat on the grass, shivering from the damp and the chilly air as thousands of pounds worth of gunpowder exploded above us: the next night we were cleverer, and had a casual dinner aboard and sat in the cockpit, glass of wine in hand, watching the fun! Now all we need to know is which of the 6 participants was the most spectacular, although how you judge something like that I have no idea.
And of course, all the Fastnet Race finalists are now in: the overall winner is a double hander father and son from France, aboard Night and Day, who did the 611 nm in 3 days 16 hours. Chatting to an Irish crew who arrived mid-morning today, "it was an interesting ride!" they said. "8hours of sleep over the entire period seemed to be about the norm. Not my idea of fun, but takes all types?
the maintenance list is slowly being reduced: we've seen two potential painters, Selden has removed the boom gooseneck and hopefully that'll be back rebooted and refurbished by Monday, my laptop will hopefully be back by today/tomorrow (I can't believe how naked I am without it!), and in the meantime we've done some serious shopping and replenishing of wardrobes! Of course one of the things we forgot when we were packing things away after the house sale was that we would have quite a few semi-formal OCC events between now and when we're reunited with our clothes again! So yesterday's task was a new blazer for John, and a more elegant outfit than the proverbial denims and t-shirt for me! Nice to be in an easy shopping area, and there are certainly all the big dealers here to choose from, so it's been fun, if a tad heavy on the pocket.
Off ashore tonight - John and Christine Lytle have invited us for dinner in Newton Ferrers, and we'll stay overnight. Luxuriously, they have a large bath in the guest quarters, so guess where I'll be later??
It's somewhat of a culture shock, being back in the UK, not least because ev= erywhere we go the Skipper's first comment is "It wasn't like this when I le= ft 11 years ago!" The number of boats has grown exponentially in 11 years, a= nd so has the number of moorings in what are remembered ruefully as anchorag= es previously, meaning that everywhere seems crowded along this South Coast.= But of course we have arrived back slap bang in the middle of peak season, s= o that shouldn't be a surprise really. Falmouth had Falmouth Week while we w= ere there initially, lots of racing, parades and marching bands in the stree= ts, and needless to say, lots of raucous parties all night. So we moved on t= o Plymouth, to arrive for the annual Fireworks Competition, two days of spec= tacular explosions, plus the end of the Fastnet Race - an extra 375 boats su= ddenly crammed in to an already full harbour - plus gazillions of spectators= and hangers-on. Once again, parties all night were the order of the day! Aft a week of combined festivities and boat maintenance, we escaped back to = Falmouth for the OCC West Country dinner and raft-up. Great fun, good to mee= t up with some 47 members and catch up with some old friends and find new on= es. Calmer and quieter town this time around! Mike and Pat Pocock sailed (mo= tored actually as there was absolutely no wind!) upriver, and spent two grea= t nights with us aboard - wonderful to have the designer of Al Shaheen final= ly cruise with us! Now we're on our way back east towards the Solent, having moored way up the D= art River for the past few days, to meet port officers Michael Hayman and Jo= nno Barratt - and explore the town of Dartmouth as a potential place to live= . Again the town was jam packed, marquees in the square, boats dressed overa= ll - we'd arrived at the start of Dartmouth regatta Week, and everyone who i= s anyone is here, either to scull, row whalers, watch the Red Arrows spectac= ular or just generally enjoy the sunshine and excitement and catch crabs (bi= g business for the kids, with crab-catching buckets and kits available every= where). Now we're on passage (motoring again as there is only 3kn of wind out there)= towards Weymouth tonight. Nick, Sam and Jake will meet us there tomorrow mo= rning, and come aboard for the passage to Lymington - seriously hope we can d= o some sailing then, as it wil be very boring if we have to motor the whole w= ay. And they can only stay until Sunday, as work and school calls Monday. In Lymington we'll meet up with Berthon, and begin the decision-making proce= ss: do we go for a complete repaint (the quotes so far are frightening - I c= ould buy a small African country for what they talking about!), do we go for= a partial cosmetic job - or do we bite the bullet, cut our losses and sell?= ?? Watch this space, as they say! Sent from my iPad
It's been non-stop since we got back, both socially and boat-wise. As far as Al Shaheen's concerned, we've had the gooseneck on the mast sorted to stop the wobbling, done a series of "running repairs", had quotes for all sorts of things including the repaint needed. The quotes on this, as I've said several times, would buy a small village in Africa! But it needs to be done, so we've curtailed the scope of work, and are in the process now of making a final decision. Watch this space!
Other than that, we moved into our little temporary cottage, a converted two-car and one-car garage which is surprisingly warm and cozy and delightful, near to John's daughter, and are keeping our ears and eyes open for something more permanent for ourselves. The criteria are being narrowed down, and we've decided what we want is a small but not too small 3-bedroom minimum house/apartment with character, and garage, with a view preferably of the sea - and quiet! Is that too much to ask???
We've been incredibly busy socially; I did a head count the other day, and since leaving Halifax in June, we have met and/or entertained some 300 OCC members in various parts of the world and in various settings: Nova Scotia farewell party, Irish get-togethers, Scillies cockpit cocktails, Falmouth dinner and raft-up, Lymington dinners, and now the Southampton Boat Show, where we're helping man the OCC stand and sign up new members. It's been really exciting to meet so many extremely enthusiastic and quite fascinating people in such a short time!
Will write more about them all later -mneed to rush off to man the stand again!
I have run out of synonyms for the words hectic, busy, frenetic, stressed, jam-packed - but suffice to say that when a 5 hour train trip from Glasgow to London is seen as a "relaxing break", it's almost time to slow down!
But to catch up quickly: Al Shaheen's out the water, mast down, in Foxs Ipswich, and the trusty team there are already beginning the work of chipping away the damaged areas to ascertain just how much damage there is and how expensive it's all going to be. So far, it looks worse than we'd hoped for in terms of size of patches that have blistered and chipped, but there seems to be no damage below the paint etc, so that's good. Just a bit horrifying when David Russell (project manager) emails us photos!
The original plan on this was to merely store her for the winter, then begin the work in February 2014, but it seems that may have changed and they may be starting sooner rather than later. Quite good, because that means if John stays back here longer this year, we can enjoy the sun longer in South Africa next year!
The other big big news is that all those days and days of traipsing up and down stairs and in and out of other people's houses has paid off, and we have just had our offer accepted for a new little place of our own - a converted cowshed, to be sure, but a delightfully bright and airy one all the same! It is in a small complex on Home Farm, 9 barns/cowsheds converted some 12 years ago, 3 bedrooms (2 big, 1 miniature which will be study), nice big sitting room, dining room and kitchen. We plan to take down the intervening wall between these last 3, to make it open plan, and then put in a conservatory infront of this. Lovely little garden just begging for some veggies and bushes, it's a lovely lock-up-and-go - and only 10 minutes walk from Emma and family, so it ticks those boxes too! Move in perhaps mid-February.
Other than these two major events, which have absorbed an enormous amount of time as you can imagine, life has been full of OCC events, parties, gatherings, meets - we estimated we have personally met some 470 OCCers since we left Mahone Bay in June, been to 10 gatherings and had 2 Committee meetings! John's been snowed under with Commodorial work and I have been helping pull together the two big rallies for next year, plus what seems like a myriad of other things.
So this is just a "reporting-in" bit - thanks to Virgin trains and their wifi aboard!! More news and filling in of gaps to follow.
Just managing to dodge the raindrops to carry things down the dock to where A= l Shaheen is back in the water! Still lots to be done, but as I keep saying,= one step at a time - one box at a time. No point looking at the half a cont= ainer needing to be unpacked and stowed, or the fact that we still have men c= rawling all over the boat fixing, attaching, adjusting, testing dozens of va= rious things - the only way I can cope is to take out one box, empty it and d= eal with it, then start on the next. Hopefully having chosen one that means I= can work on it without climbing over three workmen in the process! I've been very careful in what we are putting back - far less clothing, got r= id of a lot of stuff that we'd been carrying around for 10 years and never u= sed once. Amazing what you can get rid of if you're strict about it. Deadline for us is 23rd May sail date: John has a doctor's appointment on 20= th to have a growth removed from his arm, but hopefully that will not slow u= s down. We have Sally Livesey-Davies joining us over the weekend, to sail wi= th us to Kiel, so that takes a huge amount of pressure off. Very experience p= rofessional skipper - think I'll just sit back and watch! John almost in tears this morning: in putting the anchor back aboard, he man= aged to ding the brand new paint! Nice chunk out - but Foxs are going to spi= n us around this afternoon, make good the chip, and I think we will after al= l go for the stainless plate on the front to stop future anchor dings. Silve= r lining?? I was very glad it was him that did it though, and not me! Sent from my iPad
Left the boat on Monday night, with several loose ends still hanging: the en= gine alternator has been taken away - again - to be checked as there is stil= l a strange rattle when it's running, and we still haven't been able to get t= he ssb radio to talk to the sailmail set-up. Upsetting in both situations, a= s the bearings in the alternator were replaced when the service was done dur= ing the refit - and we were assured the ssb was all good! However, no doubt a= ll will be sorted, slowly but surely. The reason for the trip back to Tring is for John to visit Chiltern Hospital= to have a growth cut out of his arm: squamous cell carcinoma, a wart-like l= ump that suddenly grew very fast and needs dealing with before we leave. Loc= al anaesthetic, some arm hairs shaved, and snip-snap, a chunk of flesh some 5= 0mm by 12x12mm lay in a bottle waiting to go off for biopsy. A good sewing j= ob, some mopping up and a dressing, a strong cuppa tea, and we were on our w= ay back to our temp cottage on Erik Vischer's lovely property for the night.= Morning brought a sore arm, but painkillers and anti-bioethics should take c= are of that. Cleaned up the little cottage for the last time, back to Tring t= o put the car in the rented garage (after sweeping out the accumulation of s= ome years of spiders and cobwebs - urghh!), then a taxi to the train and bac= k to Ipswich via Euston and Liverpool Street. Now I feel as if we really are almost on our way! No more car, no more accom= modation hassles - only concern now is the readiness of the boat - and of co= urse the weather. Easterlies, fairly strong promised for next couple days, n= ot ideal, but we'll see. At least it's not raining! Sally is preparing a chi= li con crane for the passage, so if all has been sorted with alternator and r= adio, we're about ready to cast off. Sent from my iPad
N54:36.2 E009:51.9 5th June After a wonderfully calm night anchored off buoy 17 in the Schleimunde Monday night (in 1.8m under the keel, a bit skinnier than we'd usually like!) we motored down/up the Schlei on a clear glassy stretch of water - all looks beautiful, but stray outside the channel and you're aground in thick mud very quickly! Past Kapppeln which looks like a delightful little olde town, past marinas chock-a-block with masts and dozens of old 3-masters flying Dutch flags (found out later from Claus that apparently they all come up from Amsterdam for the summer season, as this is where the commercial trade is!), through the bun-fight of the lifting bridge which opens hourly and is a bit like a race to see who will get through first, and on another few miles to Boknis on Schlei - visible from some way away by virtue of the big tent on the shore! Anchored fairly close to shore, again in about 1.5m under the keel (plenty, says Claus later!), then dinghies ashore to finally meet up with the man who has been such a strength and help in setting up this Rally. Delightful man, a very proud Schleswig-Holsteiner and a doctor who still lives in the same house he was born in, Claus is also a history buff and took great delight over the next few days in regaling various snippets, including the fact that we are now in Anglia, home of the Angles from where the original Angles left to inhabit England way back when (along with the Saxons from Saxony too of course!). He and his lovely wife Linde made us feel completely at home here in the house on the Schlei, which used to be his parents' summer home until his mother moved in to live here permanently. And being an organised German, everything is ready for the big day - tent erected, tables laid, only need the people and the pig on the spit to begin the festivities. Later in the afternoon, we all drove across to Kappeln, lovely little town some 10kms away, both to sort out our German SIM card for the phone but mainly to visit Viking Willie's boatyard for the launch of his new dinghy. Willie is a character of note, a craftsman of the old school, who works in wood and builds the most stunning boats! Claud and Linde keep Gullveig here (and of course we had a tour first) and the yard is full of beautifully crafted gems. It was a most entertaining afternoon! By the time we got back to the house, the boats had started coming in, and over the next day or so, they have steadily gathered. We now have 7 boats here already, with 3 more due to arrive today: 3 have been delayed and will meet up with us further along the line, and unfortunately Wings (Gus and Helen) have had to drop out for health reasons - we'll miss them! So, all set for the big party this evening - and of course after 3 days of glorious sunshine, it's now pouring with rain! But Claus assures me it will be over by noon - and I trust him implicitly! Jenny > > > Sent from my iPad
Well, who'd have ever believed Poland has miles and miles of white sand beaches and towering sand dunes?? Not me, that's for sure! My picture of Poland in deep forests and shaded mountains topped by fairy tale castles, peasant women in black kerchiefs and striking shipyard workers under Lech Walesa bringing down the Soviet regime! Just goes to show how wrong one can be. We left the river Schlei and Germany on Saturday, after a fairly lazy Friday spent catching up with both some jobs and some sleep. Now a day behind everyone (most had left with the sunrise, for points east and southeast), but we dawdled. Missed the good wind unfortunately, which Claus did warn us about when he phoned to find out if all was ok "don't waste this wind!" he kept shouting down the phone, and he was right; by the time we finally left on Saturday morning, the wind had died, and it hasn't recovered since (it's now Monday!). So it has been a long slow motoring job, on a dead flat calm sea - but you know what, I'm actually quite comfortable with how it's turned out. Nice break - no emails, no people, no hassle except what to eat next and which part of the shore are we coasting along now! Initially, until we passed Rostock Germany, we had a lot of traffic: big ships, tankers, container ships, cruise ships going east/west, ferries traversing all point points at a great speed. But by nightfall things had died back, and it's now got to the point where to see a ship merits a jump up from the cabin below to gawk! Five of the OCC boats went through to Bjornholm, two are making their way down along Rugen, one is in Gdansk, one has just come through the Kiel Canal not sure if he's heading for Bjornholm or Gdansk, two are still stuck in Scotland, one will join us in Klaipeda and one in St Petersburg, and we are en passage direct to Gdansk, etc Monday evening. The first get-together had been a great success, a pig-roast at Claus and Linde Jaeckel's summer home - a full pig, buckets of bread and mounds of sauerkraut, and beer and wine on tap. The vegetarians didn't fare quite so well, but they all declared themselves happy with the salad and sauerkraut, and certainly made inroads into the wine and beer! 8 boats actually there, another 5 represented by having driven or flown over, while 4 were still adrift for one reason or another. Good times we're had by all; in fact what more can you want from an cruising eventlike this? A venue on the river bank, a backdrop of boats at anchor, beautifully dressed over all for the occasion, more than enough good food, plentiful beer and wine, tall stories and great yarns to enliven the night! The Baltic rally began with a bang! So now here we are, three days later, just about to turn the hooked corner of Poland into Gdansk Bay and down the Wisla River, past Westerplatte where we need to dip the ensign to the soldiers who died when the first shots of World War II were fired here, past the famous Crane Gate, and into Gdansk marina, right at the foot of the old city. Could it be any better? Watch this space and I'll let you know!
Wow, what a place! Dates back to 998AD, seen the world change from early Pomerian kings to the likes of Lech Walesa and his Solidarity movement ( which was certainly one of the instigators of the final collapse of communism as such in Russia!), the new city is a morass of commercial shipbuilding and services while the old city has been renovated from WW2 ashes to stand proud once again as an amazing insight into an olde era. An enclosed city, with 8 gates leading in to 8 streets, surrounded by deep moats and heavy fortifications, the old city was never forcibly taken. However, it was very badly damaged in WW2, and much of the glorious old buildings dating back to the 1600 and 1700s stood in rubble and ruins. Immediately post-war, the country's focus was on rebuilding Warsaw, and lorry loads of bricks etc were trundled out of Gdansk for this purpose, leaving things standing for many years. But perhaps this was fortunate, because by the time they came to rebuild, cooler heads prevailed, and instead of throwing up the 1950s style concrete blocks of buildings, they lovingly restored the Old City as it was. And today it is a huge tourist attraction, not to mention a beautiful area, We have 9 of the Rally boats here, with several still adrift but slowly joining us, and have had some great fun together. We're all in Marina Gdansk, literally just outside the Crane Gate, probably the most auspicious entrance into the Old City. Newish marina, very well run ( if a tad difficult to make yourself understood at times!), immaculate new shower block etc. and just a short walk over the bridge and into the delights of the Old City. A fantastic fresh market - I had to keep smacking my hand to stop myself overstocking completely! Two great dinner get-togethers, the first one impromptu saw most of us sitting on the riverside, the second more organised at the end of a city guided tour which was fascinating. Too many stories to tell here, but suffice to sayt his is a city well worth the visiting! Unfortunately the weather's turning tomorrow, so most of us will be leaving today for Klaipeda, across the Kaliningrad exclusion zones and trusting the fact that nothing adverse has been posted, the Russians will not be conducting military exercises here today! John's just due to do the radio net, then we'll be off.
What a difference in the ocean – the three days of oily flat calm had disappeared completely when we finally set off from Gdansk, and we got blasted with nasty winds as soon as we left the Marina Gdansk. However, the forecast for the next day was even worse and getting “worser” so we all took off a day earlier than planned – unfortunate because I’d have loved to spend more time in this lovely old city, but needs must. Decision – the next season in the Baltic is going to be at a slow pace, no deadlines, no rally!!!
But at least this time we got a sail in – in fact, we had too much sail up, and very smartly put in the first reef. Not to long before we were taking in another, and then eventually at 33kn took in the 3rd reef. But this time we managed to get the halyard trapped around one of the steps, so decided that in the dark and wind, to simply drop it. I love the word simply there, because the exercise was anything but! It was a horrid squirly sea, with very big short swells twisting the stern of the boat – at times we were surfing down the waves (memories of the surfer off UK at the height of the recent storms flashed through my mind!!), at times the side of the boat almost touching the water as she leaned over at a frightening angle. And even with 3 reefs in and a smaller jib, we were still doing 7-8 knots, which for Al Shaheen is breaking the speed records!!
Still, the upside was that 1. it was a brilliant moonlight night so everything was visible, even the Russian Border Control boat skulking in the distance with no AIS 2. we moved very smartly along into the Russian waters off Kaliningrad (hence the Border Control) but also moved fairly smartly out of their paranoid vigilance and into international waters again! Of the 9 boats taking this course with us, several of us were “shadowed”, and the big Nordhaven had two helicopters buzzing them for a while, but there was no actual challenge and no approach to any of us. But we did all stay a good 18-20nm offshore, far beyond the recognised 12nm perimeter determining international waters. Better safe than sorry, was the general feeling.
We arrived at the entrance to Klaipeda at about 6am, still very lumpy seas, still a fair amount of wind, and it had just started to rain. In the gloom and murk and a big sea, the buoys marking the fairway entrance are very hard to see until the last moment, but the leading lights are spot on – and you simply have to trust to them and keep your boat’s nose pointed in the right direction despite the breaking waves hammering the entrance moles! Once in the sea flattens, and for the first time in some 20 hours we could relax. Wonderful.
Klaipeda is a commercial shipping area, lots of big ships, ferries, (a cruise ship arrived overnight!), with shipping works and cranes all along the entrance as well. All pretty busy, until you get to buoy 14 and can turn off to port into the Dane River, a backwater with high walls which leads in through a gate (opened manually on the hour by two guys walking around like donkeys on a treadmill!) and into the very very tight Old Castle Marina – which is actually the moat of the original old castle of Klaipeda!
I spent the next 8 hours getting everyone in and berthed inside: meant getting the harbourmaster (Viktor, spoke great English) to shift some local boats around to make space, rafting several of us up, and two bigger boats (Lalize and Ocean Pearl) stayed outside against the wall in the river. But by 9pm all were in, and we crashed! The next morning I had just said to John “I’m taking it easy today” when the radio crackled and we heard “Al Shaheen, Al Shaheen, this is Belle Brise” and the game was on again! But she was the last one of the immediate group, so things mellowed out after that. Much to both my and the harbour master’s relief!
We have spent a couple of days here: nice enough little old town, but nothing like as picturesque as Gdansk! But on Sunday we took a guided bus tour of the Curonian peninsula, a long strip of land along the shore which encloses a huge inland lake/lagoon – through some very quaint towns and very pretty forested area. The “forest” as such has been man-made, replanted after the trees were all stripped out during the Napoleonic Wars for timber for ships etc, and now cover the very large shifting sand dunes. In times past, once the area had been denuded of trees, the sand shifted so much and so fast that some 5 of the 9 original villages were covered over and disappeared! What man can achieve without thinking of the future!
The other very interesting illustration of man’s “stupidity” concerns the cormorants that is listed in the Red Book as a protected species here – well, because of this status, they have taken over a large portion of the forest in one area and absolutely devastated it – their colony has grown from 14 pairs in 1994 to more than 3000 now, and the toxic waste is destroying the area local to where they are!
We finished the afternoon off with a BBQ in the forest, huge slabs of steak BBQ’d in an area where apparently Brehznev used to bring his mates for drunken elk-shooting afternoons! Quite evocative. But brilliantly put together by Rocas, grandson to the forester, who happens to be old family friends of Claus – so we were waited on by Rocas (a lawyer, partner in the local Price Waterhouse Coopers), his brother (a haemotologist who has just pioneered the next Nobel prize winning DNA testing!) and their father (a neurologist in the local hospital). Very esteemed company!
What with a potluck aboard Delphinus/Believe/Belle Brise the other night, and another last night aboard Delphinus with those of us who remained, it has been quite a party time in Klaipeda! Time now for a rest day for the liver!!
Claus, our Port Officer in Schlei who is doing an incredible job of pulling rabbits out of hats for us here in the Baltic, had arranged with old friends of the family to take us on a bus trip to the four villages along the inland Lagoon, ending in Nida very close to the Russian border. It was an early start after a hectic party night, and it wasn't long before we were all crying for coffee. Great relief when the bus stopped at what I think has to be the best use of a Smart car that I've ever seen. Huge steaming Lavazza coffee machines with piping hot delicious coffee on tap - have to pass that idea on to the kids in South Africa, as I'm sure it'd be a hit! Fabulous day! We explored the Witches Path and marvelled over the creative use of wood by local artists to conjure up all sorts of devils and demons in the forest - and we're somewhat concerned when Lily, the only child in our group, disappeared for about 40 minutes!! But all was well, she's simply got caught up in the stories and wandered off down a different path! Through the forest to see the deforestation of trees that have only recently been replanted in an effort to stop the sand dunes shifting further and absorbing more villages - how man does get his come-up panache for interfering with nature! Protecting one species is not necessarily in the best interests of another! But it has now become a tourist stop for the cruise ship visitors at least! In Neringa and Nida we saw the most marvellous examples of old-style burgees, made of wood, each telling the fisherman's story. Each depicted exactly which village he came from, which street in fact he lived in (between the church and the red house), how many daughters he had, whether he had horses or cows or was just a lazy layabout when he came off the water! Delightful. Then a long walk into the forest (some folk moaned about this, would have preferred the bus to take them all the way but it was actually a fabulous trek through rich lush bush land alongside the lagoon, full of birds - I kept expecting an elk or at least a wild boat, but we never saw anything more than a fox! Mind you, the size of the steaks that arrived once we got to the BBQ stop was explanation of why there was little left in the forest! But all in all, a great day.
A passage of a different kind - (Al Shaheen, Lalize, Delphinus) are all on the bus for an overnight trip to Riga, the main City of Latvia - with winds all in the wrong direction and a gale forecast for the Gulf of Riga today, it= seemed like the best way to see the city without facing "weather"! The bus trip has actually been fun, a glimpse into a part of the country we'd not normally have seen. Liepaja and surrounds Re pretty run down, buildin= gs in dire need of talc and attention - as John says, a paint supplier might make a killing here. But then, reading the history of Latvia, which has been inhabited since 900BC, it has only been it's own democracy for some 37 years in all that time! The rest of the time it has been underSwedish, German or Russian control, more recently "liberated" several times by the Russians, then the Germans, then the Russians again! Love the bus stops - and the people. Very definitely not sophisticated Westerners - yet! Looking forward to the big city of Riga.
A huge bus station, opposite the fresh market, which is contained within 5 massive old Zeppelin sheds - what good usage of old buildings! Plan is to go in tomorrow, on our way back to the boat, just to restock with some fresh veg again. A delightful day and evening: we had a sandwich/salad lunch in the square near the Blackheads House (very ornate, so-called because the old merchants who built it back in the 1400s had a black saint as their patron!) and now used as a presidential parlance, then spent a most enlightening couple of hours in the Museum of Latvian Occupation. Sobering, an eye-opener. Latvia in the past century has been hammered: first by the Russians under Stalin, then by the Nazis, then by the Russians in the USSR again - they lost something like a third of their population in this time! A Holocaust of it's own, yet one that is virtually unknown. We had a very intense chat with young Guntis, an American-born Latvia who spends part of every year back here in Latvia in order to retain his roots: as he says, they are very nervous of what's going on at the moment, not surprising. As a sideline, we heard yesterday that a boat coming behind us past Kaliningrad got turned away and told to sail a further 40m offshore before crossing, and two German boats just behind them were buzzed by Russian planes - glad we all made it through ok. Then booked into our hotel, Vecriga - quiet, delightful, huge bath - guess where I spent a couple of hours!!! Over to the Freedom Park for the start of the Summer Solstice celebrations -= dozens of people wandering around in national costume, weaving garlands of leaves and flowers in the hair, all very hippy-like but great fun. Traditional music, very slow and sad, but maybe things got a bit more exciting later! We left just after 7pm, as we'd booked for a choir festival at St Peter's Cathedral! Wow, what a feast of a choir - certainly the best I have every heard, and I've heard lots! The Latvian Radio Chior, performing Listz' Via Crucis, absolu= tely stunning. Although John did nod off regularly! We bumped into Wilhelm and Angela off Belle Brise, so had dinner with them, little Latvian restaurant where I had soup in a bread loaf and John had black peas and ham! Great meal, great company, back to the hotel to watch England= lose to Uraguay in the World Cup. Oh well, can't be all good every day.
Just heard: Spellbound and Calidris Alba are also in Riga, having done the same bus trip from Liepaja; Belle Brise and Beleive are in having sailed there, Ocean Pearl is on its way as is Penelope III, Gullveig is in Sareema (the islands on the way to Tallin); Tara was last we heard in Travemunde, Tuulikki is somewhere in Finland and Toodle-Oo is somewhere in Sweden - well spread out rally! But most converging on Tallin by 27th, then across to Helsinki before making our way back to Haapasaari in order to enter St Petersburg by 7th July.
Little did we know that the ex-USSR states here in the Baltic also celebrate the Summer Solstice, just as the Scandinavians do - well, perhaps with a difference, as it apparently rains here non-stop for the week before and the week after 23rd June!!
We kicked off today with a luxurious shower, what a pleasure to not have to worry about water! Then a leisurely breakfast, part continental, part Brit - then took to the damp streets to wander. I needed to buy a belt as my jeans were slipping off my hips (that's saying something!!) and John needed new shoelaces, and after that it was back through the square and down the narrow cobblestone streets to St Peter's to meet our guide for a walking tour. But prior to the tour starting, I insisted on buying two umbrellas - just as well, because it poured with rain the whole two hours!
Our guide Toms is absolutely terrific - young 30-something, Latvian from Riga, how was both informative, factual and interesting, dropping in little personal snippets that just made the day. We did all the usual tourist sights which I won't bore you by repeating, but suffice to say we walked around the old outer walls, through the Swedish gate (so-called not because the Swedish army had a barracks here but because this was where the last of the Swedes who had escaped the plague walked out), discussed the various huge churches and cathedrals, some of which have changed denomination several times between the initial Latvian Catholics, German Lutheran and Russian Orthodox and even at times been unchurched as storerooms and schools during the Soviet times.
Latvia having only been a democratic republic again since 1991, Toms has distinct memories: of his first experience of chewing gum, when a friend brought back one stick from the USA and six friends all had a chew in order to get the taste; of his first exposure to rock music, when one little cafe in the town square brought in the previously banned material - and how his uncle talked of how the same cafe had in the late 70s been home to groups of long-haired punks, rebels against the regime and a dangerous group to be seen with.
Passionately Latvian without being at all anti-Russian, he too admits to being nervous about the future relationship with Big Brother. And talks of how all children learn Latvian, Russian and English at school, but how the local Russians will still speak only Russian. But with a 59% Latvian against a 27% Russian population, plus the fact that they have EU and NATO membership, they are hoping that any infringement by BigB will be more severely addressed by the Western world than the Crimea affair was. Let's hope he's right!
The main Dome Square (created when the "benevolent" Latvian dictator knocked down all the houses in that area and created a square so he could address the crowds from the Radio Latvia balcony opposite) was full of solstice activity, and we could hear much singing and music - however, the rain was chucking it down, so I'm afraid John and I bailed and opted for soup and salad in a local eatery - delicious and warm!
The rain had now set in totally, so we opted for a final visit to the market housed in 5 Zeppelin sheds, and an early bus back to the boat. I'd like to see more of Riga, it has a really good feel to it - but there'll be another time!
We left Leipeja fully intending to only go as far as Ventspils, still in Latvia, an easy 45 odd miles, in company with 4 other boats. But as the breeze filled in slightly and spinnakers started to fly, John and I both looked at each other and went “Oh well, what’s another 60 miles between friends – and it’s light until 2am!” so we bypassed Ventspils, turned ever so marginally to starboard and ghosted along for another 8 hours or so and into Estonia!
Shallow! Long channels, all well buoyed but narrow, lead to each little island anchorage/marina: we opted out of Kuuresaare because we knew the CA were meeting there and it would probably be full – also because it had miles of shallow channel (we later heard several boats had been showing zero depth as they came in!!), and opted instead for Roomesaare, the next stop just 5 miles further. We arrived in the outer anchorage at 4am, just as it was getting light, and decided to simply drop the anchor until later when there might be someone awake inside. Easy enough to do, as the huge bays there are only about 5m deep!
Roomesaare is a delightful little marina, with very narrow finger piers as opposed to the stern-buoy tie-up system used in Kuuresaare (another reason for us to choose R over K), and it was simple enough to slide in and tie up, helped by the very helpful young marina manager. Shower/sauna, washing machine, small cafeteria – and over the day 3 of our group arrived plus another CA boat, so lots of chatter. A couple hours sleep, and we were ready to explore, so shared a cab with Tsamaya and wandered over to Kuuresaare to meet up with some old friends on the CA Rally. Simon and Janet on Simoon IV had a large pot of coffee going, we met Nick Hill and Anders from Stockholm, and we landed up being inveigled into joining them all on the bus tour of the island the next day – in fact 6 of us joined them, all CA and OCC members!
Back to Roomesaare after a visit to a local pub to watch Hamilton lose the Austrian Grand Prix and to the supermarket to restock fresh veggies, and we had a raucous evening aboard Al Shaheen with Tsamaya and Spellbound – seriously lots of stories and great fun and laughter! The fleet has scattered far and wide at the moment; 4 boats here, some still in Riga, some past us and en route to Tallin already – one of the nice things about this rally has been the mixing up of people and boats as each couple/crew make their own decisions as to where to land up, only getting together for an event in a specific spot once a week or so. Great fun!
So today was the bus ride – very mellow, very slow-paced, not much information, but a nice ride through the villages and countryside and a very nice lunch at Kalli Krater, site of a meteor hitting the earth many many moons ago. The little museum was excellent, but I did land up unsure of the actual dating of everything – was it 7500 years ago, or 7500AD??? But all in all a nice day, one which I held no responsibility for and could simply just enjoy! Met up with the folks from Intrepid, who will be joining us for the St Petersburg leg of our Rally, and also Sealegs, who will join us for the Tallin dinner – great to have non-OCC boats too. In fact, we’ve signed up 4 new members, with at least 1 other to some – not bad for a small rally!
The weather’s not really playing ball – Midsummer is upon us, but we’re running our diesel heater aboard tonight, and it’s frigging cold! Oh well, tomorrow is a short sail (45m) to Kuivesta and who knows, maybe the sun will shine!
Leaving Roomesaare after a delightful if rainy day spent with the CA Rally-goers on a bus tour of the island of Saareema, we had some miles to make up to get to our next OCC stop, namely Tallin, the capital of Estonia. Once again it was mainly a motor-sail for the next two and a half days, but we did get in one very nice afternoon of sailing - and we actually anchored out for two nights in a row! First time since leaving Boknis on the Schlei at the end of May, so it was a total delight to swing freely again! Simply selected a likely-looking spot, dodged the rocks, and crept into the shallows to drop the anchor - no wind either night so perfectly peaceful. We were at this stage in company with Spellbound and Tsamaya, equally pleased to be out of marinas for a while! We came in to Tallin on a glassy sea, past the cruise ships and fast ferries and into the Pirita Marina, built for the 1980 Olympic Games sailing events - and not much updated or maintained since then! Stern buoy pick-ups for the first time, but Janet on Simoon IV had kindly given us a special gadget to latch onto the buoy and hold the mooring line, and this worked very well. Plus the fact that some other OCCers were there to catch our bow lines was a huge help! We now have 11 boats with us: Gullveig, Believe, Lalize, Spellbound, Tsamaya, Penelope III, Delphinus, Calidris Alba, Al Shaheen, Ocean Pearl and Tara, the Irish boat delayed with auto helm problems, who has finally caught up, completing the tally until we pick up Tuulikki in Helsinki and Intrepid in Haapasaari - and of course Gus and Helen are flying into St Petersburg to make up the full complement. It was Julie's birthday (Believe) when we arrived, Inge (Calidris) had made a cake, so we all met up at the Yacht Club to have a drink and celebrate. Only to discover that the management would under no circumstances allow us to eat the cake on their premises as they had not supplied it! So after much argy-bragging, a compromise was finally reached, and we could cut it, sing Happy Birthday, but then everyone had to take their slice on a paper napkin and go behind the tool shed and bushes about 15m away to eat it! It was a riot!! Still, it did make for a memorable birthday party! The Yacht Club, despite their intransigence, do a very good meal, and several of us stayed to enjoy this later, before crashing exhausted after such a busy day! Yesterday (27th) was great fun: kicked off with a short bus ride into the Old City of Tallin (Pirita is about 5 miles out of town) where we did a very interesting free guided tour with the local tourist information folk: our young guide spoke fabulous English, had a really sardonic sense of humour and a string of stories to share that made the past 900 years of history come alive without packing too many complex details in. 2 worthwhile hours. We had also visited the Town Hall museum just before, the oldest Gothic building still standing, no longer used as a government office but serves as a concert hall on occasion. Ocean Pearl, the only one of the fleet in City Marina, had invited us all over for drinks pre-dinner, so we all spent a couple of hours admiring the immaculate engine room and facilities of a 65' Nordhaven trawler - quite beauti ful, but a lot of boat for two people to handle, I'd think! From there on the dinner at The Peppersack, a medieval-themed extremely po pular spot. We had some 34 people for dinner (including John and Mick on Sealeggs, CA members who joined us for dinner), and it was a raucous fun-filled evening, good food, more stories, but a fair amount of reflection on the ti me we have all now spent in former USSR controlled countries, and how difficult it must have been during those repressive years. Our guide in the morning had been telling us about the Estonian Singing Revolution (not when they won the Eurovision Contest!) when the Estonians used to gather in large groups to sing together. Initially they were only permitted to sing the state-approved list of songs, but after the "official" concert was over, the masses of people would start to sing their own Estonian (unapproved) songs - and as we're talking about crowds that grew to some 100 000, with 25 000 collected on one stage, with no actual leader or conductor, it became increasingly difficult for the Soviet authorities to either arrest or stop them! These, together with the Baltic Chain where 2 million people held hands to form a chain across Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia in peaceful protest, put such moral pressure on the USSR that it certainly was a contributory factor in the eventual release of power from the Soviets back to these individual states. Quite some story! Today, Saturday, we have Susanna Viljanen joining Al Shaheen: she will come across from Helsinki by ferry and sail back with us tomorrow, and meet with us all this evening for a "skippers briefing" on sailing in the skerries and islands of Finland. Everyone is looking forward to that! And my two grandchildren, Alex from Vancouver and Jamie from South Africa, arrive in London today, on the first leg of their journey to join us in Finland weds to sail to St Petersburg. As many of you know, John and I have this deal whereby each grandchild in their 15th year can join us anywhere in the world for 3 weeks - and this was their choice! Exciting times ahead, for us all.
Wow, with Susanna Viljanen from Finland aboard for the passage, we absolutely blasted across the Gulf of Finland! Maximum wind speed of 33.8knots, maximum boat speed of 8.4 knots - and that's going some for Al Shaheen!! needless to say Susanna, who has aspirations of becoming Finland's first solo circumnavigator, wore a Cheshire Cat grin the entire way: I cowered down below making tea when necessary!!
Here for the next few days, and with the wind as it threatens we won't be taking any side trips out immediately - too difficult to get out of the little marina at Blekholmen! Last of our boats just came in, with a bang and a crash as two boats collided! One boat was sticking out too far from the finger dock while the other had to come in to tie up at an acute to him: recipe for disaster, but not too bad. All in a day's work as they say!
Thought you might enjoy this report of our passage from another viewpoint!
Dear Friends,
The good yacht Al-Shaheen landed safely at NJK marina in Helsinki some two hours ago, crewed by our Commodore John Franklin, his wife Jenny and me.
I had arrived earlier on Saturday to Tallinn on a ferry. I had taken my sailing gear and the Finnish nautical charts with me, and my guitar. I headed straight to Pirita Marina, where I met John and Jenny and the rest of the OCC Baltic Rally crew. I told them about the Finnish waters, how to read the Finnish charts, where and how to anchor, where and how to embark the islands and that almost everyone here does speak English. We had a nice evening with beer, guitar, songs and snacks together.
After a well-slept night we headed to open. The distance from Tallinn to Helsinki is long enough to get feeling of bluewater cruising, but short enough to search for emergency harbour should the weather get really nasty.
And it almost did.
We checked the weather forecast night before. The Finnish Metorological Institute web page (http://www.fmi.fi) promised us 14 to 25 knots wind with overcast and showers.
And what! Overcast - yes, and once we had passed the Tallinn Lighthouse, the weather turned outright foul. It began to rain, and we had beam reach wind over 25 kn. The waves rose - and so did our speed. I had imagined it would have been nice ride of 6 to 6.5 kn. No way! It was rough riding - with 25 t o 30 knots, with average wave height exceeding 2 m easily. We did easily 8 k nots or more - 8.4 at best. The wind average was eventually some 30 knots, w= ith tops at 33.8 kn.
What was nasty was that the wind was gusty. The news told that four yachts have been dismasted today at Helsinki waters, and needed towing. The wind did rise quite rapidly - the weathers at Baltic are pretty unpredictable - if they have had too much canvas or made an accidental gybe - oi vey!
I acted as a combined deckhand/winch gorilla/supplemental pair of eyes/navigator/pilot. John is an excellent skipper, and a completely fearless one. One reef at the time we decreased the sails until at Harmaja lighthouse we dr= opped the mainsail off completely, and the headsail was half furled in.
The route to NJK marina from open to the marina island is pretty straightforward, but it is one spar buoy jungle, and the fairway is only some 5 m deep for the last couple of cables or so. We had both paper charts and plotter, and we eventually managed to get to the marina with flying colours. Once we had moored al-Shaheen to the marina berth, we ate a heartly meal of chicken curry which John had prepared. Lovely!
And no no no, I won't be selling my boat and finding that nice, cosy and safe job at Koverhar steel mill blast furnaces. Most likely I will be out to sea already next week. I promised John and Jenny to show them "Caprice" next week some evening.
All in all, it was rough riding, but well worth of it, and most of all I FEEL ALIVE!
Fair winds, Susanna
It was a good stay at the Nyalanda Jacht Klub in Helsinki: the manager Sammy Lundgren is an absolute star, very organised and had sent me a berthing plan a few days before we were due in and was there to catch the lines for every boat as it arrived. Bit of a contretemps with two boats as they berthed resulting in frayed tempers and some damage, hopefully not major but still of concern. Tsamaya managed to get theirs temporarily fixed (Susanna provided contacts and they managed to be to get a guy to come and reweld stanchions on what was a holiday!), but Calidris Alba will wait until they're home. The Jacht Klub is magnificent, an old high-ceilinged building, beautifully maintained, and is on it's own little island just off the ferry docks of the mainland, Blekholmen. They run an active ferry service across to the mainland every hour, so it's very convenient - and as someone said, it is nice being within eyesight of the city while still being in the peace and quiet of an island. Got a bit rolly as the ferries arrived and left morning and afternoo , but the rest of the time was fine. Great saunas, excellent wifi, "sailor's dinner" in a side room of the restaurant - good value. Susanna took us across to see her H35 "Caprice", with which she is planning to become the first Finnish woman to circumnavigate! Good basic boat, she has done most of the refurbishing herself and has a very clear idea of what she still needs. Great vision, lots of knowledge, but is wanting to make an ocean passage as crew first, to get the feel of long passages. As she says, the longest passage she has made was 300nm, and she'd like a few more under her belt first. And she needs to build a "sailing kitty" - so if anyone knows a boat wanting crew, let us know! Very capable sailor. A great dinner at NJK, buffet style with all sorts of nice fishy goodies, capped by a round of stories from various folks. Sailors do tell good stories! Alex and Jamie finally joined us in Helsinki, arriving after midnight and bowled over by the fact that the sun had not yet set! A mug of hot chocolate when we got back to the boat, a quick stowing of their clothes and bags and a lesson in how to make up their berths - and how to use the heads - and we all crashed by 2am. By the time we all rose the next day (well, except for John who was as usual up early to do the radio net), all the boats had left except Tara, Ocean Pearl, Delphinus and Tuulikki. The first two would be leaving the next day or so, the latter two are not coming to St Petersburg. So, quick lesson in dropping the lines to get off the dock, and then we were out steering for the first set of yellow/black spar buoys which are the form of buoyage here in Finland - as Susanna says, 90% of all the spar buoys in the world are here in Finland! It was fairly tense at times, finding our way through what seems to be a forest of yellow over black or black over yellow, and trying to make quick decisions as to which side of the spar you need to be in order to NOT hit the rocks on the other side! Alex and Jamie were great, initially up in the cockpit watching for the spars and directing us, but then the Sturgeron I'd given t hem (just in case!) kicked in and they both went down below and passed out for most of the rest of the day! Woke for lunch at some stage, then flaked again - catching up on lost sleep from the hectic time in London too I guess. A good sail, quite a bit of wind pushing us through some very narrow passages along the "marked" route. Finland has very well-marked routes, once you get used to the markings! But they have many, some that criss-cross and some that run parallel: you decide whether to take the 2.4, 3.5 or deep water 6m route, and then try very hard not to get confused when they co-incide! Straying off the routes is not condu cive to retaining either the paint on your boat or your keel! This is a country of gazillions of little islands but even more rocks out in the fairways to catch the unwary. Not a shore to doze at the helm! By about 5pm we decided it was enough for the day, so tucked into a little anchorage between a series of small islands some 40nm closer to Haapasaari, a nd dropped the hook. 3 other boats here, all very quiet, great spot. Dinner and bed for me, John did some chart work, the two kids - having slept all day - stayed up late reading! Which of course meant they got up late the next day too! We left them sleeping, raised the anchor and slipped out the anchorage by about 7am: they sort of surfaced for some breakfast and another Sturgeron, then subsided back into bed for a few more hours. We had decided to go offshore for this leg rather than take another windy inshore passage; quite a lot more wind than expected and quite rolly, so we eventually goose-winged to stop the roll. Alex and Jamie surfaced by midday, Alex feeling slightly queasy so I made them both come up on deck and stay there until we got into Haapasaari. Haapasaari entrance was interesting: very wiggly, somewhat nerve-racking, but we made it in without too much yelling at each other, Ocean Pearl hard on our heels. 4 boats in the inner harbour, the rest anchored out, just missing Tara who are due in today. Of course, with 4 US-flagged boats, we had to celebrate 4th July! So a big party aboard Lalize, with fried chicken, potato salad, beans with pork finished off with watermelon, which to everyone's surprise was yellow not the traditional pink! And birthday cake for Tina was a delightful extra! No fireworks though, as we all felt being so close to the Russian border and with all t hat's been happening, a series of loud explosions in Haapasaari anchorage might not be such a good idea! Much do this morning has been taken up with logistics, trying to determine exactly what procedure is necessary for checking out etc. turns out the Finnish Border control insist that each and every boat go in and tie up to the customs dock, clear out and then leave: so there will be some killing around this afternoon with most people wanting to leave much the same kind of time. Oh well, one more issue to face - looking forward to being tied up in one spot for the next ten days once we get to St Petersburg!
It was an interesting trip from Haapasaari, Finland to St Petersburg, Russia - the little island of Haapasaari in the first place takes about an hour to walk around, and has only one small convenience store - but has a lovely little anchorage and is very quaint - well worth the visit. We all gathered there on the evening of 5th, got in line on the 6th and checked out - ducks in a row one after the other at the Customs House to hand in reams of paperwork and get officially stamped out of Finland. Some of the skippers were breathalysed - must have heard about the 4th July party we'd had - but most of us had no problems at all.
Then it was out into the Gulf, to cross the Russian/Finnish border about 12 miles out, between buoy 14 and 15. Everyone called in very officially, spoke to a brusque Russian Border Guard, and was quickly and efficiently given clearance to proceed. Vladimir had been at work!!
The sun never really set properly - well, it DID set, but it never got dark! Jamie and I did the watch until 2am, then John and Alex did the early morning stint - Alex wanted to see the sun rise, but it took about a hour to actually creep up over the horizon, despite it being light all the time.
By 9.30 we were tied up in Kronshadt, waiting to clear in to Russia. And wIt was the name of the game! There were some 12 Finnish boats, the remnants of a rally of 47 boats who should have already left, and they had to be cleared out before we could be cleared in! Much red tape, much red faces and much shouting and bad temper when a Russian boat arrived with a crew of young guys - they barged into the dock, hitting the side with a bang that reverberated all the way to St P, then tried to muscle ahead of us all - no way! We'd been there for hours (it was now about 4pm) and they got short shrift. However, we were finally all in, and began the long trek down a very narrow channel to St P, hemmed in by major shipping brushing past to go to the refineries etc and the fast ferries/hovercraft storming past raised on stilts for all the world like alien beetles. Interesting entry!
The next few days were a blur of meeting people, including an incredibly stressed Vladimir, tramping through incredible palaces and places dripping with gold leaf and convoluted patterns - history oozes out of every crevice - this was where Rasputin was poisoned/shot/eventually drowned in the Neva, this was where Catherine the great was, this was tsar Nicholas' palace, etc etc - too many names and too many places to try to recite the history here! Google it!!
Suffice to say we have had a glorious time - and more still to come.
Wow - is this the city of bling or not?? Every second building here in the historic area is a palace or a museum that was a palace, and every single room (except perhaps the kitchens which we never actually ever saw!) is covered in cupids and leaves and scrolls and designs in gold leaf - at least 1/5 of the buildings have cupolas, also covered in gold leaf! As a South African, I keep thinking of how none of it would survive overnight before the affirmative shoppers got their hands on it all - but then again, every room is "guarded" by these stern Russian ladies who threaten death and destruction (or at least a trip to Siberia!) if you lean too far over the ropes, touch the walLs or take photographs where you are not supposed to! To date we have seen: the Hermitage (the Tsars' Winter Palace) Peterhof (the Summer Palace), Tsarskoye Selo (Catherine's Palace and the place where the last tsar (Nicholas) and family lived when they were taken to be executed 1917),the Russian Art Museum (the Mikailovsky Palace), the Kazan Cathedral (Jamie wasn't allowed in because she had shorts on!), the Mariinski Theatre where we saw La Syphide (very shoddy considering the status of the ballet here, several of the sylphs tripped up, very out of sync) - somewhat museumed out at this stage! So, on our free day, having allowed everyone to sleep in (two teenagers and myself only surfaced at midday!), we are now off to see the Church of the Spilled Blood - a spectacular onion-domed multi-coloured mosaic creation built to commemorate the spot where Tsar Alexander was blown up by a bomb. And to visit the souvenir market to spend some souvenir money!
St Petersburg - just what is there to say about this city that has not already been said? So, rather than go into descriptions of all the magnificent palaces and Romanov splendour and history, let me just give you some snippets of our inter-action and impressions, and hope that this will fill in the picture! The fleet arrived in Fort Konstantin, Kronshadt to check in after an overnight motor from Haapasaari, where we'd checked out of Finland. I think we'd all been slightly tense, not sure how much aggression or quite what to expect from the Russian Border patrol (lots of rumours flying around!) but in actual fact - probably due to Vladimir's influence and calls - we all simply routed in to the RBP at buoy 14/15 by radio, some 12 nm out of Haapasaari and where we crossed the Russia/Finland border, and were waved on with a "have a good trip". So by the time we arrived in Kronshadt some 14 hours of so later,we were relaxed. Mistake! This was where we hit the red tape and bureaucracy! Despite Vladimir's best efforts (and he was there from early morning until the last of us left after 5pm), it was a hassle. A huge part of the problem was the fact that there were some 12 boats from a Finnish rally trying to check out at the same time as our 14 arrived: it overwhelmed the officialdom there completely, and they were in an absolute spin. The procedure to follow apparently is on checking in Immigration comes to check your boat (to ensure you're smuggling no bodies in - not interested in alcohol or drugs or such, only bodies!), then once the boat is cleared the skipper takes the papers to customs and they have to come check your boat (every locker gets opened etc). Only once all that is done can you take your passports to Immigration to be stamped in, and finally leave the dock. Vice versa when you check out. The hassle, as always, is that they have one person only to do each job. And said person/s didn't know where to start or who to start with, or where anyone was in the system!! Initially we were told all the Fins would be cleared out first, then we'd be checked in. Then they decided to do them and us alternately - and got into a total mess trying to determine who was who in the queue, who had been seen and who hadn't. "System" was not a word they knew! Compounded by the fact that by now everyone was off all the boats and wandering around the dock chatting and talking to each other - well, the Immigration man was suddenly spending most of his time chivvying people back to their boats instead of checking the boats!! Poor Vladimir ran around frantically trying to get some sort of order established, but all in all it took most of the OCC boats from 9am to about 4pm to get cleared in. Not a great start. And after Kronshadt, it's another 16nm hugging the edges of a narrow channel with container ships, cruise ships, tankers and extremely fast alien-looking hydrofoil ferries doing their darnedest to ignore your presence before you finally make your way past a construction site and in to the marina - where you're met unexpectedly by a tide ripping down the river and at this time of the evening a plethora of jet-skis and model hydroplanes sharing the entrance and cutting across you just as you're trying to not hit the dock in your tie-up manoeuvre! Very tense, lots of action and yelling, two very wide-eyed teenagers aboard Al Shaheen who had never heard that kind of language from John before! And who in the panic of all that was going down lost all sense of what they were supposed to be doing and which rope was supposed to be thrown where. Anyway, eventually all tied up, safe and secure, frazzled nerves unfrazzled, we all met up at the yacht club for an introductory chat with Vladimir - who by this time was almost on his knees he was so exhausted! Basics of the club explained, fobs for showers etc handed out, and we were free for the night. I'd decided cooking was not an option, so we decided to make for one of the beach bars next to the marina for a light supper. What an education! Some background to set the scene: to start with, the Baltic Sea is brown, not Caribbean blue. The water within the confines of the St Petersburg barriers (huge man-made flood barriers across the entrance at Kronshadt that cut St P off from the rest of the Baltic) is brown, murky and decidedly nasty. Not drinkable, quite smelly, with all sorts floating within and on top. But, and this for me was astounding, the marina runs along the shores of a small natural beach, dotted with a multitude of beach bars obviously, but also used as a swimming area!! Urghh was all I could say when I first saw it, and I didn't change my mind the entire time we were there. The marina is on Krestovky Orlov (Island), which was and still is home to some extremely wealthy people. Originally the aristocracy etc during the Romanov era, then the high level commissars during the Soviet era, now the nouveau riche oligarchs frequent said restaurants and beach bars. Which gave us our first introduction to Russian "high society". We chose the closest bar simply because it was the closest, despite comments from the Irish boat that the beers were very expensive. "But," said Bob, "the side show is fantastic." And so it was. Within minutes of sitting down, we were all gawking at the women on show. All tall, perhaps because they were all in the early 20s, all wearing 6" high heels, all slim (not anorexic skinny, just toned slim, all bronzed, all immaculately coiffed and made-up with long painted fingernails, all dressed (or undressed as the eye may see!) in the shortest tightest mini skirts or shorts that I had ever seen - it was a cat-walk of super-models that had Jamie constantly exclaiming "Nana! Look at that!!" But the girls were only part of the show. For every 4 girls there was one man; this was the "oligarch" for lack of a better word. Usually somewhere in their 30-40s, not very attractive, decidedly underdressed in comparison with the girls hanging on their every whim, they were of the t-shirt and jeans brigade ( except for the occasional gent in a linen suit - new to the scene?), but most importantly, they were paying! For the champagne the girls were all drinking, for the hubbly-bubbly hookahs they were all smoking, for the platters of caviar snacks that sat untouched on the tables; they were paying to be entertained and pandered to, and that's what happened. Every "witticism" was met with a shriek of laughter, every drunken comment was treated like Socrates' greatest pearl of wisdom; it was sycophantic, sickening, but very entertaining!! So much for the modern rich young Russians and their entourages. And as we travelled around over the next ten days, we saw more and more of this: the nouveau riche here wear their wealth ostentatiously, accompanied by gaggles of underdressed models and strong arm bodyguards in black glasses, driven around in cavalcades of black Range Rovers with smoked windows or flown in by helicopter to the door - the marina across from us is jammed with huge splendiferous motor yachts that never move. Oh well, that's how the other half live, I guess! St Petersburg is a city created by Peter the Great as a resort, and it still has that feel. He built it from nothing, reclaiming swampland to create his "Venice", and it comes complete with a system of canals and palaces to equal anything that Venice has! However, over time it has also developed bridges and roads, which were not in his original plan, so what you now have is a city that is connected to the sea, part of the sea, yet well serviced by fairly grid-locked roads. The old city itself is stunning, and retains a delightful character in its facades and wide streets: the people are a mix of government, military, official and oligarch-style: the feel is cosmopolitan and sophisticated, with little evidence of poverty or need until you dig quite deep below the surface. Generally the women are extremely well-dressed, the streets are full of upmarket designer shops: it is very obviously a city for the well-off. I would like to see some of the real Russia!
Checking back into Finland in Haapasaari, we were met with unexpected pressure. "You have to move, now!" said the Customs and Immigration man, very politely. "We have 60 boats coming in from Russia and Estonia today for the Gangut Race in Kotka." Having experienced the tedium of only 20-something boats in St P, there was no way we were going to hang around after that message, so we scarpered smartly! A motor-sail across to Loviisa to check out the M-Yachts yard where we plan to haul out, and met up with Belle Brise in Laivista Marina, where we were slid in through the mud with all alarms screaming "0.00' under the keel!" And made a fairly successful second attempt at a stern-buoy tie-up. Fairly because I got the hook nicely hooked to the stern buoy, but then as I was running forward to jump off and secure the bow lines, the whole damn thing came unclipped!! So, little reversing needed to re-attach, but all in all a fairly smooth exercise. In actual fact, watching all the Finnish boats in and out over the next few days (we vegetated somewhat in Loviisa!!) I've come to the conclusion that it's actually a very easy operation, and certainly one which fits these kinds of waters. Not much wind when coming in, smallish boats, easy to control. And certainly takes less dock space than lying alongside or pontoons. Just need some more practice! We spent 3 or 4 days in Loviisa, catching up with laundry, emails, grocery shopping - and of course sauna! I've flown in love with these sweat-boxes, and sat there one night working out how and where to put one in Broederstroom , before reluctantly deciding it was far too hot to have a sauna in Africa!! Nice little town, nothing very much there except lots of green spaces and wide shaded streets, but very pleasant. Had dinner with Bele Brise before they left, very nice. Also went across in the ferry to Shwartholm, the old fortress from 1780 times - again, nothing to get excited about, but quite fun. You can tie up there overnight: either at the official pontoons (looked bit tight and shallow) but also stern-buoy at the ferry dock once the ferries have stopped running for the night. Very nice, toilets onshore, and also barbecue facilities in a very pleasant grassy spot under the trees. There were people swimming off the rocks, but not sure I'd go in! The best part of the time there was meeting up with Robert and Sanna Lindstrom again - we had met them (with Sheppy their dog who is the spitting image o= f Shelley on Lalize!), and as they live nearby, had made arrangements to meet again. Drinks aboard one night led to an invitation to his parents' cottage in the woods near Kobole (Kallvic Cove) at a later date. They have also very kindly found us a cottage for the couple days we will be on the hard, which is great. So the next couple of days saw us toddling around; after much discussion with the locals, we bailed on Kotka as "you'll never get a space with THAT big boat" said several, "town's too full with all the festivals." Instead we moved somewhat west - only about 10 miles - there is no wind at all at the moment, so sailing is no fun. First two nights we anchored amongst the islands intotal isolation, near Pasolo, and both of us spent the entire time on the computer. I sorted out the 2014 Awards preparations, getting text to the newsletter and eBulletin, creating a judges' criteria sheet, then contacting prospective judges etc. now just need to sit back and wait for nominations to come in. Then moved a whole 5 miles around the corner to Kallvic to meet up with Robert and co - delightful spot, little hut nestled amongst the trees behind the sea grass. Had drinks and snacks and met his parents Fred and Teresia, most entertaining evening. They all speak English fairly well, if a bit rusty on the parents side - but certainly better than my Swedish or Finnish! Fred was amazed: "First time I've ever spoken to someone from the bottom of the globe!" he kept saying!! I think his amazement stemmed partly from the fact that I was actually fairly normal! Today off on another little anchorage - you could move 2 miles every day for a full year and still not cover all the anchorages available, even to deep draft boats like ourselves! And very few people around, despite it being peak holiday season - perhaps we're just off the beaten track? Little houses/shacks tucked away almost unseen amongst the trees, the occasional person on the shore fishing, small power boats whizzing around when you're near a recognised track (because of the plethora of rocks in these waters, there are very defined "pathways" to move in, each clearly marked as a 1.2m, 1.8m, 2.4m, 3= .6m, 8m etc so you can't really go wrong). But otherwise just us, the water lapping, a fraction of wind just taking the edge off the sun - paradise!
Oi vey, just when we have our life all beautifully mapped out, haul-out booked and preparations started, flights home booked, movers to the apartment booked, eaten ourselves out of house and home to clear the fridge for the winter haul-out, things go pear-shaped!! The news here in the Baltic re Big Bear and the future is increasingly worrying - long discussions into the night and continuing unabated as we motored back to Loviisa to ready ourselves for haul-out here on Monday: are we being wise staying so far north considering all that's happening and may happen?? Pros: we're here, everything is ready to go. Finland is a NATO country, non-Russian population, independent, not likely to be a target for aggression. Cons: it's very close! We hear Russian Border Control and the Coastguard calling all day on the VHF. Worst case scenarios - if things did escalate, it would probably be the old USSR countries of Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania that would be involved, not Finland, but would the Baltic Sea be closed off for tourist traffic? Or could we sneak our way through all the little Finnish archipelagos etc and make our way to Sweden anyway, even if the worst did happen? So what to do?? Stick to Plan A, which is haul out here in Loviisa Monday, go to Plan B which is leave her here, in the water, go back to UK and move in to the new apartment, come back later in August when things might be a but clearer? Or go straight to Plan C, which is re provision today (have just emptied all the food!!), take off tomorrow ie Friday and make for probably Kalmar in Sweden to haul out there? If we get there by 9/10th, we can still complete the apartment move on 12th, and John can fly back at the end of August to effect the haul-out. Truth is, I think he just wants a good long sail!! So watch this space to see what today brings!
Much discussion, many conversations, much heart and soul-searching, but we have finally decided to stick to plan A and haul out here in Loviisa, Finland, come back next year to continue exploring the Baltic. So we motored around to M-Yachts and started the process: the mast came out today, the boat is hauled tomorrow and will go into a heated shed for the winter – and in fact we will be back in the UK by tomorrow night (Wednesday) night.
Owners of M-Yachts, Martin (and Sarah) Rosenstedt are very good, and the facility left us both with a feeling of confidence – and warmth, and that not simply because Al Shaheen will be in a heated shed! They had just arrived home from Scotland, where they had been sailing for the summer, and came down to the dock in Laivista to meet us and welcome us – and get a look at the boat before encouraging us to come around whenever we wanted to begin the haul-out! Good to know he’s also a sailor, has a wooden boat and is very pernickety about how it’s hauled etc so fully understands the skipper’s jitters!
The facilities are basic: this is a boatyard, not a marina, so we’ve had to forgo the nice showerblock with sauna and the cafe on the corner and the restaurant just up the drag: what is here is efficient, workmanlike and does the job, but luxury it is not. However, having made the decision, and because we’ve actually prepared the boat anyway, we will only be here for two nights, so it’s not an issue – imagine, we have a bath waiting in the UK – bliss!!!
After several years of hauling at Gold River under the watchful eyes of Cindy and Darren, it was a bit of a white-knuckle experience watching the mast being lifted out by Martin’s Green Machine, but the procedure was well thought out, carefully done, slick and smooth. No worries whatsoever. Of course, tomorrow’s job involves the Red Machine and a 13 tonne boat, so that’s a tad more nerve-racking, but Martin and his two appies seem quite unconcerned. And if they’re not worried, I guess we’ll hide our nervousness too!
So, this 2014 sailing season is over – early, without a huge amount of sailing, and perhaps that’s why John suddenly asked (or maybe it was the bottle of red we’d just finished talking??) “So, are we too old to do a circumnavigation?” Realising quickly this was a serious question, my reply was simple: “Of course not. But we need a new fridge and a new dodger and new cushions and ...” “New rigging and a new engine,” he said thoughtfully. “Let’s sleep on it.”
We’re still sleeping on it!
An extremely slick operation! Extremely well carried out. I have to confess I had my heart in my boots, wondering if The Mammoth was actually going to be up to the job and envisioning Al Shaheen in little crumpled pieces on the steel decking after she'd been dropped, but Martin and his Apple Daniel were meticulous, careful, detailed - and The Mammoth was more than up to it! An hour from start to finish, and Al Shaheen is on her stand, drying out in the Finnish sunshine before being put away in the shed for the winter. And now we're off to catch the bus to the airport - fastest haul-out and leaving we've ever experienced!
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seems we were spammed!! Apologies for the last message from some strange woman - believe you me, it was not me!!
However, it serves as a reminder that I have not updated this blog for ages! So here goes a potted history of the past few months after the end of our Baltic sailing.
We returned to the UK and moved into our new apartment, a delightful 3-bedroom conversion of a 1908 Rothschild hotel, geared now for the over-55s (we just qualified!). Lock up and go, right on the high street with all facilities within an arms-length (even 3 funeral parlours!). Of course there were all the usual hiccups pertaining to a move - the floods back in 2014 had washed out our two double beds so those had to replaced - interesting how difficult it is to get a company in the UK to deliver a bed either that or even the next day!! But we're now well ensconced, and open for guests - please come visit.
Oct/Nov saw us both back out in South Africa, with a determined plan to do no, I repeat NO project work on the property, but instead just enjoy the sunshine and relax for a while. Ha ha. We did have a couple of weeks with John's granddaughter Lia from Australia, showing her the sights of Kruger Park and Cape Town over Christmas, then had our friend Jill from the UK out for two weeks in February - all great fun and a time to explore some of this incredible country. We also hosted several OCC events, in Richards bay and in Cape Town, for circumnavigators en route from the Indian Ocean and now on their various ways home - also fabulous meeting up with these folk.
But of course John can never keep his hands in his pockets for long, so it was all systems go to design and build a solar water heating system - which involved moving a water tank 100 metres up the hill - to get us somewhat more "off the grid". The set-up here in South Africa with electricity supply is a nightmare, with constant load-shedding as they call it, whereby your electricity supply is simply cut off, sometimes for a couple of hours, sometimes for 10-14 hours! It was initially an occasional thing, but it is now so regular they are actually publishing a schedule! Add to this the blackouts when we have a storm, and we are often without power for 20-24 hours at a time! So, this year we have put in a gas stove, will be converting to solar water heating, next year who knows what.
The electrical storms have been horrific this year - one evening in February we had a lightning strike that not only blew all our electrics but also knocked to the ground, unconscious, my Malawian manager and one of my tenants -very scary! No long term damage to either of them, but quite traumatic to say the least.
But generally it has been a great time, just too short. A lot of excellent family time, playing with Jessica who has just started on a lifetime of exploration on two legs, helping Connor with his horse-riding, helping Jamie with raising funds for a Scout trip to Japan later this year, spending a lot of time with the grandkids and their friends generally! We are going back to UK earlier than usual, as the OCC AGM is at the end of March - then off toick up Al Shaheen in Finland and take off for ports unknown. No real plans for this sailing season yet - watch this space!
Almost time to get back to Al Shaheen and sailing again: somehow it always seems to be sooo long between sailing, with a schedule packed so full I keep suggesting to John that it’s time to retire!!
So, since hauling out in Sept 2014:
we moved into our new apartment in Tring Herts, a delightful 1902 Rothschild hotel the Rose & Crown that has been converted to several very nice apartments – we have one of the two 3-bedroom top floor ones, with a stunning view out onto St Peter & St Paul church, so lots of greenery and interesting activity. Morris dancers every now and then, morning fetes, big bands marching past – all very exciting and keeps us active!
Then we scrambled out to South Africa as usual in October and spent some extremely pleasant months out in the sunshine – I soaked myself into Nana stuff with my beautiful little granddaughter Jessica, getting to know her and letting her get to know me. Seriously heartbroken when I had to leave her again after 5 months! But skype has helped a little bit, and it will get better as she gets older, I guess. Also spent some really good time with my other two grandchildren, taking Connor and his horse off to competitions and finding caves and diggings for Jamie and her boyfriend Michael to explore on Scout events. We also had Lia with us from Australia for 3 weeks, so did some game park trekking as well as driving down to Cape Town for Christmas. All very exciting!
We had planned to do NO building projects this year, but of course there was no way John could actually abide by that rule! So we landed up building a huge scaffold for solar water units, moving one of the existing large green water tanks up the hill – African fashion, muscle and manpower!! When we’re back in October this year, we will install solar heating units as well as put in two new bathrooms – the existing ones are very “ye olde farmhouse” style!
Then before we could catch our breath, we were back in the UK for a round of OCC shenanigans, committee meetings, the AGM and Awards Dinner at HQS Wellington, much paperwork, long hours at the computer, and many many “discussions” with other committee and members. Stressful at times, but all in all enjoyable. I think???
To take a break after a really hectic OCC time, John and I split up – he went to Perth Australia to visit Dan, and I flew to Vancouver BC to visit James – hadn’t seen them for some years so it was really good to do so now. John had a brilliant time SUPping, while I explored the mountains where Alex & Tyler were skiing – very different sports in very different environments! Back to the UK, both of us sick as dogs (is it something in the planes??), we’re now getting ready to go back out to start sailing again! Isn’t it amazing how you can write off a year so smartly???
Another season, another start! It kicked off well, with a Business Class upgrade on the flight to Helsinki - which apart from the fabulous lounge at Heathrow where I could have happily spent a month or so, was a bit of a disappointment. No big fancy lounging chairs aboard, just an empty space between our two seats and real cockery and cutlery - glad I wasn't paying for it!
Arrival in Helsinki is all very civilised, with a bus ride from the airport to Loviisa the next morning (we arrived after midnight so took a room at a local hotel for the night), collection at at the bus stop by Stefan with a hire car, and check-in to a room in a chalet in a very nice camp-site near Loviisa. Claim to fame? Sibelius used to stay here, wrote here, and played summer concerts here!
We popped round late afternoon to see the boat, and there she was, draped l ike a bride expecting her groom!! Dry as a bone after a winter in a heated shed - what a difference that makes! Quick potter around, John greased the propeller (had been done, but you know what he's like, had to be sure it was done properly!), scrub of the hull anodes and replacement of the propeller one, back to the marina for a very nice fish and chips supper amongst some local wags and very friendly jackdaws, then back to our little room in the camp site to crash. An exhausting day!
The next day we stopped quickly at the marina early lo load emails and the newspapers, then round to MYachts to launch. Too late - she had already been splashed, and was bobbing gently below the Big Beast, waiting for us to come aboard and check. I think John was disappointed: he does like to stage-manage, or at least watch with intent, but as owner/manager Martin said, he prefers to do the work without the boat owner breathing down.
Baby Beast does the mast, a far more delicate operation! And John this time was on hand watching. But the crew here at MYachts are highly organised, very careful, very efficient, and within 20 mins of cautious delicate manoeuvring Al Shaheen once again has a mast - now just the stays etc to be fitted into place and tightened, and bob's your uncle. Strange to see the Commodore' s burgee fluttering from the top of the masthead, even when the mast was not yet on the boat though - better not let that one out to all the OCC membership or it'll stir another hornet's nest! The next few days were taken up with all the usual palava of putting a boat back together, always a bit of a mission but I have to say far easier done when she's been in a heated shed all winter, the big difference is that we had not had to winterise anything, so everything is almost ready to go - basics like stowage and grocery shopping, running rigging and sails to do, and that's almost it. Some bits and pieces supposed to have been done by the hard over the winter weren't so that was a disappointment, but otherwise all is good. We found a most useful gas place, in Lovho, a good hour and half drive from Loviisa, which would quite happily refill our US propane tanks - always a mission when you get out of the U.S., but more complicated here in the Baltic because there are just so many different gas formats! So a day's outing, which landed up including collecting the rigging for another British boat just launched whose stuff was stuck in Espoo - all in a day's work as they say! So here we are now, Friday and we're almost ready to go - just the mast elec trics to do and a floorboard in the forepeak replaced (waiting for a fitting to be done by the yard). Cupboards restocked, lockers packed, gear all stowed, most of the boat is pretty ship-shape. Slept aboard last night - takes some getting used to again, that's for sure. The berth's comfortable enough, but definitely snug after 9 months of a large king-sized bed! And of course all creaks and groans take some getting used to again - I mean the boat's, not ours - although there are decidedly a lot more of those around this year too!! And I find it quite hard finding my way around everything again - definitely senility creeping up when I can't remember either how to tie a bowline or which flipping rope goes where anyway! I stood looking at the main sail for a couple of seconds after we had attached it to the mast, trying to remember how the hell I used to raise it - then realised I hadn't attached the head to the halyard yet!! Urghh. Hopefully things will fall into place as we proceed, otherwise I could be thrown overboard sooner than planned!
Took off from Loviisa in sort-of sunshine and slight winds, but that was fine, as it takes some getting used to, all these spar buoys and extremely narrow channels. The problem is that there IS deep (well, deepish ) water but it's all in a narrow channel that wiggles and wriggles down what looks like a clear passage ahead, something like the ICW except more wiggly! The choices of getting to Helsinki are several: we can go right out into the main ship channel and then probably/possibly sail if there's wind, but then we have to deal with all the shipping and the ferries: we can take the inner tracks but it's only 2.4m deep and with a keel of just on 2m that's a bit too nerve-racking: or we can do the more obvious and take the 4m channel, marked in green on the charts and with a thin black line on the chart-plotter. As I say, this wriggles through the islands, sometimes very close to islands and/or rocks, but is well-marked - if you keep track of the spars. I have placed the chart in a clear plastic sleeve, and mark off each spar as we pass with a chinagraph pencil otherwise we'd be lost in seconds. Or hit a rock that sits literally just on the surface, impossible to see until you pick up the bird sitting on it! We rolled the gib out, and sailed for a short time with the engine barely ticking over, but after about 30 mins of constant adjusting as well as having to check for spars and markers, gave up - maybe when we've got better used to the system again we'll sail, but for this first day out, it was engine. Gentle toddling along at 5 knots or so, beautiful scenery, lots of swans and terns and sucks of various shapes and sizes out, lots of bird noises off the land, but virtually no-one else around. Much too early in the season for tourists, and the locals apparently only come out after Mid-summer day, which isthe 21st. So we have this wonderful world to ourselves at the moment. Nice as it was though, it was also cold! John had long-johns and thermal vest on, I had two layers of thermal underwear and we were still cold - if we got behind the protection of a little Island there was a drop in wind and it was nice, but otherwise, it was Arctic. So we bailed by about 2pm, found ourselves a quiet little anchorage, and checked to see everything worked by dropping the hook. Success! Ensconced now for the night, just as the rain started, we lit the heater and retired to read The Times on our iPads - loaded this morning with the free wifi from Loviisa before we left. Isn't the modern world fabulous??
A very casual, easy dawdle along the green route, about 20 miles a day, quiet anchorages each night (although we did discover after anchoring the second night that we were in a Military Area - but no-one came to chase us away so we decided it must only mean the land, not the sea area?). We stopped at about 2pm each day, had a relaxed afternoon catching up on all sorts of little jobs like stitching the frayed edges of the ensign, clearing a blockage in the inlet sewage pipe (seems heads are a never ending problem) etc etc. Very gentlemanly lifestyle I thought. Then we woke to dire warnings this morning of wind up to 13 metres per second (which translates into about 25-26knots we thought) and a grizzly day. Oh well, we're toughened sailors, no hassle, so as planned we took off for the last 8 miles into Helsinki and NJK Blekholmen. Should have stayed in bed! Our little green route brought us in the back way, through a swing bridge which opened automatically on the quarter to and quarter past. Well it didn't, it was actually on the hour and half-hour, and after we'd fiddled around in 25kn of wind for some 28 mins or so, tempers were slightly frayed. However, little did we know what was astore. At one stage I said to John, "it appears to be kicking up a bit out there," pointing to the other side of the bridge. It was. We slide through the narrow sides, and got blasted by a squally for the next 20 mins to half an hour where the wind maxed 40knots and the heavens opened - not to mention the wavesbreaking over the port side of an Al Shaheen who was now lying decidedly onher starboard side! Oi vey - this was not in my plan for the day! In the flurry of rain, buoys disappeared (these spar buoys can be incredibly difficult to see against the water at the best of times!), and trying desperately to bounce between the paper chart which showed the big picture and the chart plotter which showed the more in-depth small picture, I sent us off on a wild goose chase of following red spars until John shouted "this ain't right, I'm turning around!" Which he did, to the consternation of a little pilot boat tagging along behind us and a ferry just about to cross our path! Back out into the big ship channel, with fast ferries and touristy paddle steamers chasing us down, to follow the LARGE ship buoys into the main harbour. We expected things to die down a little there in the protection of several huge cruise ships, and they did, somewhat. However, we still came into NJK's berth far too fast, helped in no uncertain terms by the wind up our tail! What a pleasure though, to be finally tied down, bouncing around in the berth that's for sure, but at least we're going nowhere else today, regardless of the weather. And I've already arranged for a sauna tonight!
We have spent a most delightful few days here at NJK, enjoying the ambiance, the food in the restaurant, the free laundry facilities and showers - and t he sauna! In fact, the latter was the scene of much mirth when I walked up to the toilet the other evening a 4 large Finnish gentlemen were sprawled on the benches in front of the sauna, draped only in towels, beer bottles scattered around them, very red- faced but more from the drink than the sauna I think. Of course being the shy retiring type, I had to accost them. "hey, aren't you supposed to cool off by jumping in the icy water?" I demanded, which started a rapid fire conversation peppered with all sorts of promises to do just that - and much more. One very inebriated gent, his greying hair tied back artistically in several knots above his head, kept waving thick chunky highly tattooed arms, finally said he wouldn't do the leap through the ice, but only if I let him hug me. "I've never hugged a South African," he said. What can you say to that?? So he clumped over and I was enveloped in this huge bear hug - all very warming and tender, until I realised from the shrieks and shouts of laughter that he had lost his towel, and I was now warmly pressed to the chest -and rest - of one large very naked man!! Oh well, all in the name of friendly relations! Vladimir and Alla Ivankiv arrived from St Petersburg, and we had a very convivial evening in the NJK restaurant, before making the PO Medal presentation to him. The Commodore of NJK joined us, along with several of our Finnish OCC members - all good fun. Then the next day we took off by car for Espoo, about 20 m away, to watch the start of the annual Espoo to Suursaari race - 98 boats started, including two ex-Vendee Globe open 60s and two extremely fast trimarans; quite spectacular down wind start with spinnakers flying! It's a 170m course out to the island and back, and as Suursaari (Gogland) is now Russian, of course permissions have had to be obtained for the boats to round the island, hence Vladimir's involvement. Quite sticklers these guys are too, the Russians I mean; they kept phoning him to check that the names/numbers were right, what time was the first boat expected etc etc. heaven help us if anyone has to go ashore!! It was an interesting but quite emotional time being with Vladimir, discussing events and happenings in the former USSR. Really tough for them all. He has a property in Ukraine (he's Ukrainian by birth) but cannot go to check upon it as there is a real possibility he would be treated as a spy when he tried to come back into Russia. And of course the tourist and boating numbers are down drastically, so things are tough for business too. The remainder of the weekend has been spent in catching up with boat jobs, restocking grocery cupboards - and going to Stockmans, one of the best bookshops in the Baltic! And of course having a nightly sauna - I'm trying to workout how best to create something like this in Broederstroom - except that it's usually so hot there the last thing on earth you want is to be heated upsome more!! But I do enjoy it, I have to say.
A late farewell to NJK, and we were at last heading west, towards the Turku and Aland archipelagos. The weather forecast was okay, moderate winds and la e afternoon showers. Well, they lied! We were barely out of the Blekholmen channel and onto the reen route when the wind piped up fairly dramatically, the sky darkened, and the drizzle started. Not too bad, we thought, we can live with wiping our lasses every few minutes to see the spar buoys marking the channel - and the rocks. It was irritating, made for some minor tension when the next buoy could not be seen, but really, what's a few drops of rain to hardened sailors like ourselves?? Of course it got worse, what could you expect? And by the time we turned off the green route in order to twist and turn our way up the back channels to Max Ekholm's place, it was a totally black sky and lots of thunder. I have to admit to never seeing such a dramatic setting: heavy indigo clouds overhead, little forested islands dotted all around us, rocks peeping out below the surface very too often - and a whipped-up sea that was an absolutely eerie shade of lime green! Startling - I wished I'd had the time to photograph it, but was too busy wiping my glasses and trying to find the next buoy! Once again we made a fairly dramatic entry into a strange berth, turned through the reeds to tie up to port, where Max waved us in and caught our lines, a welcome sight even if he was hunched down in yellow slickers. A trip to Biltemi to replace our starter battery, a quick stop at the supermarket to replace fruit and veggies, and it was over to visit with Max and Jane for a delightful evening of good food and excellent conversation. Despite being in the midst of radiation treatment for cancer, Jane fed us royally and was a wonderful hostess. And their house is a collector's dream: from the Steinway and cello in the music room where they put on concerts amongst walls lined with Max's classical LP collection, to the bookcases that invade every room including the toilet (where all the "popular" titles are sent to, to the umpteen chairs and tables and knickknacks that have come from both sides of the family, it is a treasure-trove. Populated by two wonderful people and their two incredible cats! It was a joy and a privilege to be there. Then the next day, after watching an early morning Oppie training course just off our stern, we were off again - in sunshine and under blue skies this time! We wove our way up and down the green route, occasionally tripping over the main shipping routes before edging out behind some little Islands again: just pure fun. We're learning to trust the chart, but not necessarily takeit as absolute gospel - we trickled our way slowly up what was marked as a 1.2m route (remember we have a draft of 2.1m) and never had less than 4m under the keel! So we are anchored for the night in a lovely enclosed bay, entered through a long narrow channel, surrounded by some extremely elegant homes ashore, all with their own jetties and saunas - which we shan't be using!! And no sooner were we here than others have followed us in - either we have landed in the middle of a solo Finnish rally, or everyone else knows this isn't a 1.2m route too!
The invasion remained a quiet evening where everyone stayed aboard their own boats - no dinghies down, no friendly greetings over the stern. In fact we were just commenting that very few of the Finnish boats actually have dinghies - with all this leaping over the bow of the boat to tie up to a rock, I guess they don't need a dinghy to get shore!! Off to an early morning start, and we had a most delightful toodle through the Borasund area: quite different to the day before, much higher islands, many more big houses rather than traditional little red summer houses, lots of smart powerboats around. Each one has an immaculate jetty, with a sauna to the side and steps or a ladder down to the water so you can simply sauna and a ping into the ice-cold water - and ice cold it still is! 10 degrees water temp! We did some 27 miles, then anchored snugly behind an island marked Stromso on the chart - and the big resort-looking place ashore had a flag that said Stromso too, so guess that was it. Looked very touristy, but there was absolutely no-one around, despite a beautifully combed beach and what at first I thought was a kids playhouse but then decided was a duck house! Too early still for the holiday makers, so everything's quiet. Another early start (we've decided the wind comes in later in the afternoon, and then it does come in hard, so early morning makes for easier travelling!), and with some wiggling and squigglying, we found our way into Hanko east harbour, Itameren Portii. Refuelling was a bit of a stressful situation - or at least getting to the fuel dock was! Big winds, on the nose, blasting us off the short little jetty - and an inexperienced summer hand throwing ropes at us every which way!! However, we were finally refuelled, and did a jig across the marina to lie port side-to on a long pontoon - lunch of leek and potato soup was a welcome break in the stress! Hanko doesn't strike me as the most exciting of towns, but perhaps that's because everything's still so quiet? Nice old wooden villas, a very sparse "town" as such, a row of good looking red framed restaurants to explore tomorrow - but for tonight it's relax and recover!!
First impressions of Hanko were very bland, but that might have been as a result of a "small" contretemps between skipper and crew when coming into the extremely short fuel dock with 25kn of wind on our nose! But in actual fact, it's a pretty little town: very very quiet at the moment , in fact all the shops are only just starting to put their stock into the shelves for what I imagine will be a busy summer season! It was a spa town back in the 1800s, and some beautiful old wooden villas still being used as accommodation facilities - big leafy boulevards, lots of trees and even more rocks (very large boulders these ones!) The little Marina here (said to be the largest in Finland but I can't buy into the claim that they have 430 slips here??) has an area on the rocky shore looking out to sea with saunas and a restaurant - only the Erdchin side open and firing steam and filled with large lounging Finnish men so I bailed on that! Restaurant not yet open except for drinks between 6pm and 10pm, at which time it is full of raucous guests standing outside on the rocks - very strange! But last night we landed up by accident in one of the nicest restaurants we've been to in ages - and old converted wooden warehouse built on huge blocks of rock, the owners have kept all the Rock and simply place burning candles in the various niches and cracks in the rock, giving you the feeling of sitting in a cave - a warm cave! Tables with immaculate white linen, gleaming silver and glassware, and red roses on each table all add to the atmosphere - capped by a smorgasbord of fish delicacies to die for - 5 different kinds of salmon, about 10 different herring, several kinds of white fish, and an accumulation of interesting and unusual salads - we made pigs of ourselves!! Paid for it though - it also landed up being the most expensive restaurant in absolute ages!! But worth it for the treat! So, having caught up on all the OCC emails and activities, organised a signed letter for daughter Tracy to get visas in South Africa and booked air flights 2015 London-Washington-Johannesburg-2016 Washington, it's time to move on! Off to visit Tom Tigerstedt on his island tonight, then simply explore some of the 3680 still left.
We had our first sail of the season today, a beautiful beam reach from Hanko along the big ship channel for about 15 miles, absolutely glorious! What a difference some sunshine makes - no wonder the Finns become jovial and sociable once summer is here! Tom Tigerstedt was waiting in the channel for us in his little speedboat, to lead us in to his family archipelago of islands, Mellanlandet plus. And just as well he was there, because we would never have dared enter where he lead us without him! Very narrow was not the problem, very shallow was - never mind the rock or two in the middle of the entrance!! However, we squeezed through, eased very cautiously up to the dock (mainly because the end of the dock was a huge slab of rock waiting to stop us dead in our tracks, and Eugenia (generally known as Nana) was there to greet and take our lines. They have the most amazing place, literally an archipelago of islands bought by Tom's father back in 1965 as a summer get-away, but Tom and Nana now live here pretty much year-round: a genuine slice of heaven. Three main islands and a conglomeration of little ones create a perfectly secluded and protected harbour - sure it's small, but it's big enough to hold both Al Shaheen and Tiger Lily on opposite sides of the dock, and still have room for Tiger Lady (a small trawler) on another small jetty and the little speedboat on a third jetty! Lunch on the patio overlooking the fairway, with John and I just overwhelmed with the beauty of the place - it is incredible! I can quite understand them never wanting to leave - if I owned it, you'd have to carry me out in a pine box!! Tom gave us a short tour of one of the islands; we were walking on moss that just sank inches beneath our feet with every step, weaving our way over huge boulders and layers of pine cones. Apparently they get deer, foxes and elk swimming over, and when the fairway freezes over in winter they have had wolves! A plethora of birds, including two nesting pairs of swans: pure paradise. A wood-fired sauna, followed by a genuine Finnish dip in the freezing cold ocean - boy that wasn't really something I'd planned on doing - and not sure it's something I'd want to do too often - but it is certainly invigorating! What a day!
It just gets better all the time! We landed up spending 3 nights at Tom and Nana's bit of paradise, partly because the weather turned, but partly because it is just too beautiful to leave! Tom went out of his way to make us feel welcome and show us some of his enticing archipelago: in his little Minor he spun at 25 knots across to Oro for lunch, an island that used to be owned by the Tsar, then was a Finnish military base. It has been closed to the public for the past 100 years, now just opened for tourists, and we lunched in the old Mess Hall, cutlery and glassware immaculate, napkins marching in perfect line across the tables! Then the next day, still cold and windy, we took Tiger Lady at the same kind of speed across to his closest Marina, at Kasnas, for an incredible fish buffet (and also to restock grocery cupboards - but it was the buffet which is the memory!!) Interesting sitting watching: there is a definite culture here of having to be in place, either in a marina or an anchorage, by 2pm - apparently if you're not, you won't find a space!! So everyone does short days - leaves about 9am, dash a few miles to be in place by 1-2 pm. Then sit and relax for the rest of the afternoon - well, life could be worse I guess!
However, by the 4th day we were being to feel like the guests who never leave, so reluctantly we eased Al Shaheen out of her tight spot, crept over the shallows and around the rocks, and made for other waters. It was cold out! So we ducked into a lovely little anchorage some 8 miles or so up the drag, put out an anchor and settled in for the night with the heater going. Tom had told us about this spot, said it would be very quiet, no houses around (the idea is that if there is a house and it has a flag flying, you do not anchor in front of it). Well, one other very small boat with one man aboard who ignored us completely as we anchored far away from him - and a work barge with two caravans, plastic table and chairs - and a sauna! Home away from home for a tree-cutting crew working out of sight in the forest ashore. By 5pm the sauna was belching smoke from the woodpile, making me wish we were closer to them and could hop in too! Next day was sunshine - and a light breeze! So we took off for Nagu, planning to stop there overnight and then make our way to the "big city" of Turku. But Nagu is such a delightful little place (Marina), and it's Mid-Summer in Friday and we're in no rush - and it's supposed to be raining for the next few days - so we decided to stay till Saturday to celebrate too! Did the laundry, bought some booze (we'd made a big mistake in not bringing stocks from UK and we're almost dry!), had a sauna and another delicious meal in a local cafe.
Today (Thursday) was wet and miserable, so we decided to take the bus to Turku instead: an hour's drive through lovely countryside, over on one ferry between islands - found the mall in Turku and managed to buy a sim-card for our modem so now we're hooked to our own hotspot rather than a marina's which at least means I shouldn't be bombarded by Finnish spam again -last year was dreadful! By the time we got back, the crowds were starting to roll in - and the boats have been steadily arriving all night. Big 50' just pulled in alongside us, 11 youngsters on board - who promise drunkenly that they won't keep us awake - fat chance!! Suddenly the Marina is full of under 30s, all waving beers around the cockpit and playing music - bit like being in the middle of a set of drums - different beat and rhythm from every boat, big or small! The girl in the Marina office told John she thought the party happening tomorrow night might not be his style - an understatement!! Watch this space - more tomorrow!
Well, the party's started, and it's not even 9am!! The boats have been rolling in, all shapes and sizes - and experience. A big DuFour 45 ( charter crewed by 8 French people of definitely the older age group) cam in to tie up alongside us, in a light breeze. First they decided to go stern-to to the dock, so picked up the stern buoy from the bow - the heavy boat promptly swung in towards us, and John spent a frantic few minutes rushing around with a fat fender trying to keep them off our new paint-work. I didn't hear him, but I'm sure he was muttering "the French" under his breath. Finally, after making an absolute meal of it all, they managed to change the stern buoy line from the bow to the stern - two Finnish boats skittered out the way and deftly man levered themselves past him to give him three boat widths to now come in bows-to. Then the old lady on the bow got the warps so badly tangled she almost threw herself in the water trying to throw them to John and another guy now standing on the jetty - then it was too short so instead of easing off the stern line which was now bar-taut, they released it, sending the boat, engine gunning, bounding forward!
Was I glad it wasn't us making such a mess-up - there but for the grace of God!!!
Other than that, we have all sorts in here now: a little open dinghy covered with a tarpaulin from which much merriment and drunken laughter emanates - and cardboard boxes that had contained 12 packs of beer are regularly thrown out over the side, to a large barge, tarpaulin in the front with a large wooden table creating a sleeping pad for some dozen or so youngsters, while another tarpaulins at the stern covers a sauna!! These Finns and their saunas! A BBQ and a big boombox complete the furniture - they are tied up 4 boats along from us, so this evening is going to be noisy!!
The big charter boat that came in at midnight left at about 10am, bound for the island we'd stopped at a few nights back ( where the work barge was) - for a family Mid-Summer. When I asked why they stopped here, I was told they wouldn't be allowed to drink so much with the family! "It was a real party on board last night," the skipper said very blearily, "it looks like a tsunami down below!"
By 10pm the place is humming: every available space has been taken by some 20 yr old driving Daddy's boat, and the beer is flowing faster than the River Thames! Beat boxes abound, overlaid as you walk down the dock by acoustic guitar and harmonica trying to make themselves hear. We put up our. Flags to dress overall, and hey presto, within a couple of hours some 16 others had done the same - a festive air abounds!
We had Tomek & Magda, with their friend Bogdan, all from Poland aboard a charter boat, over for drinks - think we have some new OCC members!! Very interesting folk, and a great evening spent with them. They are much younger and have now gone off partying while John and I retire quietly, at least to the cockpit to watch the proceedings for a while - several glasses of wine plus a couple glasses sangria and I'm out of it!! Boy, these Poles can certainly more than match the Finns at drinking.
Things took a long time to get moving this morning after the sessions last night, and there were a lot of very bedraggled youngsters with very sore heads moving gingerly down the jetties! The noise level wasn't as bad as I'd expected actually, but judging from the debris there was a lot more partying going on than we heard from within the bowels of Al Shaheen! And the party continues: it's 9am and already they're at it - I have seen no coffee mugs in hands, but an awful lot of beers clutched desperately - hair of the dog?? The sauna boat moved sometime during the night, losing it's tarpaulin on the way - it was covered with a layer of comatose bodies when I passed but I thought I'd be polite and not photograph them - not that they'd have noticed, but still. We're leaving Nagu today, making for another little Island called Stenskar, a whole 15 something miles away. The problem is we're spoilt for choice - it’s a case every day of saying where to now - the real choice is simply north or South, with a world to explore in between!
I think summer must be on the way, now that we've passed Mid-Sommer and the days are getting shorter! We've just today exchanged our double-glazing panels for our bug-screens! Sitting in the little harbour of Aspo last night, we were suddenly attacked by hordes of mosquitoes, the first we've seen this season - one minute there were none, the next minute we were inundated! And of course we couldn't find where we had stored the beautiful mosquito net we had got last year, so it was a frantic close the hatch, cover it with an old screen made from net curtailing bought many years ago back in the Caribbean, and retire to bed with the electric bug-zapper. Only advantage was that the weather seems to have turned too, as the sun was still shining at midnight!
We left Nagu in what was supposed to be sunshine last Saturday - well, the sunshine lasted for the first 15 minutes, then the drizzle started and it just got progressively colder. After about and hour or so, we both looked at each other, shrugged, and started looking for a plan B. Found in the form of what appeared to be a nice protected stretch of water, fairly deep (well, 8m or so!) and no rocks, so we tucked in, skimmed quietly past 2 houses with pennants flying and anchored out of sight of two more that seemed deserted. As usual, things are never what they seem: by 5pm we were sitting in the middle of the fast lane for motor-boats en route to somewhere or the other, making the most of the late afternoon sun that suddenly appeared. Then almost like the door to the cuckoo clock opening, at 6pm bodies (some naked, some in swimsuits) appeared and hit the water before ducking into the little saunas built right on the shore. Trying hard not to stare, we sat on deck with our sundowners, before retiring to a dinner of salmon and new potatoes. Looking at charts and thinking about the weather of the past few days, we decided an early start was the way to go - get out before the rain starts??
So 7am Sunday saw us en route to ... Well, we had a vague destination of Stenskar, but quite frankly would see where we got to. As it turned out, it was a brilliantly sunny day - not a breath of wind and a sea of glass, but you can't have everything I guess. So we motored down past Stenskar without stopping, through Brunnskar (literally just a crack between two islands with a narrow jetty on one side) then a 3-hour long motor dead straight ahead, 3kn of wind on the nose, and turned in to Aspo. What a treat! It is a delightful little place; small jetty with some 6-7 small boats tied up bows-to with stern anchors out, and a big jetty which we thought we could lie alongside then realised it was probably the ferry dock - not a good plan. So we anchored out - had to re-anchor almost immediately as we realised we were too close to the huge slab of rock astern of us, but sat very comfortably all night.
Aspo is a seriously delightful place: very small full-time community of 11 people and 13 cows, but on Mid-Sommer the hordes arrive, mainly family visiting or folk with summer houses coming for a few weeks vacation, and then the place hops. Aspo-Erik Janssen is the local accordion player, something of a legend in this area, and nightly jump-ups are the order of the day. Unfortunately we arrived the day after Mid-Sommer and most of the visitors left on the ferry, so the place died at 4.30pm - even the sauna seemed closed! We were a bit nervous when the ferry arrived: big inter-island job that comes in, picks up, drops and leaves within 10 mins so no messing about - and turned right in front of us in a very narrow spot!! Thank God he could turn on a tickey, but it was quite nerve-racking for a few seconds! John then decided on a walk ashore, or rather a scramble up the huge slabs of rock - all went well until he slipped and fell in. Very bedraggled man returned to the boat!
Today (Monday) we woke to drizzle again - Oi vey! But taking note of others, we sat around until about 11am, then simply motored all of 4.8m across the shipping channel into Noto - another absolutely delightful anchorage. This has a much bigger bay, a bigger shop, and a fuel dock - but the jetty looked far too cramped for us to get anywhere near, so once again we anchored. This time the ferry turned a way away from us, no hassles. We took a walk ashore, chatted to a lovely old guy who was cutting his front garden - the flowers/weeds/whatever obviously grow feet high over the winter, so it's a major task clearing your front garden each summer. And the roads (apart from the few main dirt tracks) are simply mowed or scythed as people wish - wonderful freedom! Had coffee and chocolate cake at Cafe Alli under some huge oak-like tress, and met her helper, a rasta man from Zanzibar!! What next?
Three little harbours/anchorages, each one completely different to the other in character. Näsby was a disappointment: the harbour manager very new and battled to understand what she was doing - gave us the opening times for showers/sauna etc which turned out to be closing times, restaurant was very much a greasy spoon so we bailed on eating out but dined aboard. Went for a bit of a walk up to the town, found one rather understocked grocery store but another very nice one with lots of fresh veggies, accessed by a trail through the woods marked "Privaat - verboten" but also signposted for M-Mark! Still we sat out some not-so-nice weather, generally simply hunkered down and stayed put.
Next day we had an absolutely glorious sail most of the way across to Lappo, about 16 miles in mainly sunshine - all of which makes for a better impression, I have to say! But when we arrived in Lappo, it was to be greeted by a long piece of jetty, with stern buoys but we're getting used to those, and in fact lots of anchoring room if we wanted it. We took the stern buoy option, and slid in quite confidently. Practice is making us better - certainly not perfect, but better! And what a welcome ashore! Lovely signage over the jetty, flowers in tubs, table and chairs next to a gas BBQ for cruiser usage, reserved but very genial harbour master who explained all the facilities which as well as all the showers and sauna etc also included free bicycles for a 2km ride round the island and if you wished to extend things, pressing a button called the small ferry over for another 2km ride around the neighbouring island! Little grocery shop (should have stocked up in Näsby at the M-Mark, the only good thing on the island!) with nominal fresh stuff, but the ferry came in later in the afternoon and did bring in more fresh veggies etc. A very good little museum with old wooden fishing boats and some amazing old photographs of 1800s women in long dresses and thick coats pulling said boats across the frozen sea to the next island to move their cattle around!
But all in all a nice vibe in Lappo: the people on the other boats chatted to each other, and for the first time we saw other than Finnish or Swedish flags: German, French, Dutch all appeared. We also discovered, when the man several boats along played the trumpet to warn all to lower their ensigns, that we were now in Älund and should be flying the Älund flag, not the Finnish one! We actually spent two nights here, partly because it was just such a nice relaxing place to be, and partly because the weather the day after we arrived was grotty again. So instead of moving out, we worked aboard: John sorted out the AIS connections which had been giving us trouble (a job which involved practically pulling the boat to pieces in order to get at the defective cables!) while I continued working on an edit - interestingly the story of a little pug dog who falls overboard off the coast of Cape Town and gets caught up with the lives of the sea creatures living in the band of warm water between the Indian and Atlantic oceans - could have done with some of that warm current up our way, I can assure you!
And then today, Friday, after John had done his morning exercise of 2km on the bicycle, we cruised a whole 10 miles across to Bäro, and have found the most astounding little place! Someone suggested this had a good restaurant hence the trip, but what a find! Tiny, very tiny, with tie-alongside room for maybe 4 boats and perhaps 4 more stern-to, it is an old Coast Guard station, now run as a hotel (7 rooms) and restaurant. But what a lovely place! Once again, a welcome second to none. We'd planned from the photographs to tie up along the right side dock as the left looked a bit odd, but when we arrived someone else had just pipped us to it! But as we came in slowly, a woman came rushing down and waved us over to the other side - as John slowly circled while I ran around putting fenders and warps out, she put out two deck chairs in front of where she wanted us to tie up - first time that's ever happened!! A light lunch of salmon soup and some interesting conversation with both the owner (it's a summer place only) and some guests, one of whom has just bought a 2nd hand Halberg Rassy and plans next year to start a circumnavigation, and then we were off for a "nature walk" - an hour and a half later, after some major rock scrambling, we were back, exhausted but delighted.
This is a lovely little place, so much so that we decided to spend another day here enjoying the peace. Everyone else had left by 11am, and we had the place to ourselves (with the owner and staff of course!). John has acquired a recipe for the fabulous bread they make - every island has its own recipe, and this one involves orange juice, malt and syrup! Had a great dinner last night here in the Glada Laxen, a fish tapas starter followed of course by salmon - I think I will be developing a tail and fins soon. Climbed the Coast Guard tower after dinner, just to work some of it off - 40m high metal structure which felt quite flimsy but what a view from the top! Spectacular.
Bäro was such a great little place, we decided to spend an extra day here - and were very pleased we did. Midday another Brit boat pulled in, only the second one we've seen this season, and the first we actually got to talk to! Snow Leopard, with Elvin & Fiona Patrick and crew Clive Chalk had specially come across for dinner - their 4th year in this area, so they were a source of much good information for us. And many entertaining stories - all in all a most convivial evening over several bottles of wine! Also Royal Thames members, friends of George Ehlers - small world. And just as we were all preparing for dinner, having helped another yacht tie up astern of us, across the water came the most amazing sight - a little open wooden boat, bedecked with boughs of birch, carrying bride and groom and two supporters - what a contrast between the crew of the incoming boat in full could weather gear and ourselves in thermal underwear still, all gawking at this newly wed very pregnant bride in flimsy white chiffon and bare shoulders!! But all good things come to an end, so it was a parting of the ways next morning, with Snow Leopard off due west to explore the old Russian fort of Bomarsund, while we hived down south to Kökar and Källskär, which had been highly recommended by several people. Actually we'd have done better to have followed in their footsteps, as they probably had a good sail while we motored most of the way: lesson just learnt - stop setting the schedule by where you want to go, and set the schedule by where the wind is blowing!!! Initial impressions of Kökar were iffy: we'd no sooner anchored than some kid ina aria came out to tell us to "get out of the fairway" - not a good thing to yell at skipper John after a long day! So we took ourselves off to the other side of the harbour and re-anchored far from anyone, and had a sausage and mash dinner in the sulks. Next day however dawned bright and fair, the area next to the fairway was empty so we moved closer, and went in to see what was what. The Info girls suggested we get down to Karlby and take the ferry across to Källskär for the day, as the next day would be better weather for walking around Kkar, so we took their advice and hiked the 5 km into the little harbour town and bought tickets for the ferry. Little harbour was the word,must the lady there was insistent we should have brought our boat round - so glad we didn't as we discovered there were very few marks once we left the initial red/green buoys right in the harbour! Breakfast at the local cafe was coffee, bacon and eggs - four eggs each, scrambled, with 6 slices of bacon and two big slices of open sandwich with ham, cheese and tomato!! The latter we wrapped up for lunch and manfully lowed through the former! Then off on the little ferry, about a half hour ride out through the skerries and channels - no markings, the skipper had no GPS or chart, just "knew where it all was"! Tied up to the rocks - that's scary - and then another humping walk across scree from the Ice Age and boulders the size of 4 storey mansions, to the Witches House - and old eccentric Scot Miss Morris, who moved a shore from Scotland and lived off the land on mushrooms and plants with the occasional fish. Another stomp further inland up and down boulders brought us to another little house (one room houses these, both of them), with a magnificent view out across the channel to Sweden: Tove Jansson stayed here to write the Moonim books for children - great stories! Then down to the most amazing place, tucked away so that it was impossible to see, a beautiful wooden house built by Count Göran Akerhelm in the 1960s, with a garden that anyone in England would die for! Rhododendrons in full bloom, strawberry patch, rock pathways and huge slabs to create a BBQ and a "cheese board for fine dining" - it was the sort of place I would quite happily move into and never leave. Göran had one of those sad stories: black sheep of the family because he was a homosexual, he decided to make Källskär his home. With family money in his pocket, he employed locals to manually build this amazing place, and until his death in the early 90s entertained friends here royally (hence the cheeseboard!). Today the little cottages (2 or 3 of them) are available for net by artists and writers for short periods: a retreat of note. The ferry ride home was thoughtful, and the 5km walk home tiring! Today, Tuesday, we decided to do the Nature Trail, thinking it would be a doddle. Ja-well-no-fine! It landed up being a goodly 11-12km, up boulders, down boulders, through bogs and swamp, into a long (beautiful) birch forest, up more boulders, until we finally came to the Coast Guard station - most unfriendly officials so we didn't stay - and a trek back along the main track road to the harbour. Actually a fabulous walk, if exhausting! Back at the boat, we both crashed! Then took the laundry ashore and had some fish soup in the local little cafe and watched as the afternoon's boats arrived - some elegantly parking themselves, some making a real hash of things. Very easy to be supercilious when you're at anchor!! Tomorrow's another day, where to from here? Depends on what the wind does.
Amazing how some places hold your heels down fast with unstickable glue! We inched our way into Bomarsund, not very comfortable about the place at all: a little jetty at the head of a long braid channel sides too steep to anchor off (we haven't got brave enough to attempt the Scandinavian tie up to a rock stuff!!) which really forced us to go bows-in with a stern buoy. Of course this was the first time we'd tried the Happy Hooker and it sort of worked, but we slewed across the space because we had the rope threaded outside the boat instead of inside it - mistake! Add to that the fact that the jetty is simply a strip of planks around a curved rock of immense size, and it was a recipe for some disaster - not as bad as it could have been, but certainly not our best efforts either. We'll learn - I hope! Once tied up, we gazed at the slab of rock ahead of us in awe - some 40' high, probably 150' long, a gentle slope to the top that was eminently scramble-able, surrounded by pine and birch trees - really very very pretty. Behind us a thick dense forest, off to our right the head of the anchorage, reeds leading to a slope of mowed grass we later found out was the campsite, and to out left the broad entrance to seaward. Delightful! A trip up to the office to pay and suss out the land, and we landed up in Bormarsund proper, the ruins of an old fort built by the Russians back in the 1850s to be a barrier to all invaders attempting to enter "their territory" and built in gigantic proportions with massive gun stations facing inland as they believed no-one could ever attack by sea. Of course that's exactly what the English, French and Turks did - waited for some 25 years for it to be half-built, then simply sailed in about 12 man-of-wars and blew the hell out of them! After abject surrender, the peace treaty of the day declared that never again could Bomarsund be militarised, and despite remaining in Russian hands for another 50 something years, that treaty holds good to today. Quite something. Chatted with some of the other cruisers as we all had to jump around helping people in; the wind had got up somewhat, so by evening folk (even experienced ones) were having problems! By morning however, we were in real trouble - all of us! The wind was now blowing like stink across our sterns, slewing everyone and making it extremely difficult to get a boat out as it meant going across someone's stern and getting involved in someone's lines. We ran around helping where we could, pulling lines, pushing boats apart, holding bows off the rocks - exhausting! After watching one poor couple battle for some 30 minutes to get their stern hooker off the line, we decided to call it a lay-day and stay - wait for the wind to die down. As it was we had no chance of leaving, as we would have had to go under the neighbour to starboard to get out!! And it's a beautiful place, we have nowhere to get to in any hurry - so relax! More boat jobs, two Port Officer info pages completed, a whole lot of emails done and dusted plus a walk up to the little cafe for lunch - well, very pleasant day. Late afternoon the fun started again, as the wind was still piping, everyone was still slewed at an uncomfortable angle, and now the new set of boats were coming in! A boatload of old dears (husbands don't sail but they love it) couldn't get their boat hook sorted, so after much fuss and palaver we launched our dinghy and John rowed out to the offending hook to latch it properly. No sooner were they almost tied up than another two boats came in - no buoys left because of the way the boats were all lying, so they were throwing out stern anchors to try to stop themselves hitting the rock! Oh what fun this sailing lark is!! It's a very different style of boating here: very quiet, nobody really chatters to anyone else, no visiting of cockpits for evening drinks etc, by 8pm there is just a very low occasional mutter to be heard from the 17 or so boats tied up a couple of feet apart. Couples will sit on the slab of rock with their little BBQ or drinks, watch the sunset, alone and silent, then meander back to their boat-caves again. Very unusual for me!! So, hopefully we can make it out of here tomorrow. The wind's died down, we should actually leave right now, but it's almost 9pm and despite the fact that it's still light, I'm ready to relax with my online Times newspaper and catch up with the shenanigans of the outside world! Tomorrow's another day.
Several things strike forcibly about the Finland/Åland archipelago and I guess about the Finns and Swedes generally. That is, apart from the fact that the marina showers are wide open to the multitudes, no doors, no cubicles - we all stand stark naked, facing the wall is the polite way to do it, I've learned, no-one talks to anyone else but quietly soaps up and rinses off as if we were each in our own private bathrooms!!
1) they're so quiet! No noise once they're tied up, even the kids seem muted. And you never hear the dogs aboard barking!
2) everything is immaculately clean - never really see the cleaners except by mistake occasionally in the toilets - but no litter on the shores or roadsides, no plastic or old rope floating in the sea - not even any weed growing!! Amazing.
3) no convivial chatting with strangers/cocktails in the cockpit stuff - everyone sits in their own cockpit having a beer or glass of wine, rarely an invite to join or even a suggestion they'd like to visit. Is this a cultural "keep ourselves to ourselves" thing - or is it that booze is so flipping expensive you don't want to throw it away on strangers?? Certainly cheaper to do rum punches in the Caribbean, maybe that's why there's so much conviviality. In fact we took a day trip on the ferry from Marienhamn to Kappelskar - free ticket from the marina so long as you don't get off - and you can buy duty free booze!!
4) swans abound - I have ever only seen swans in zoos or on the UK rivers etc, so to see pairs of them in every little nook and cranny here, all wild, is astounding. It's breeding time, so many of them have little cygnets, either trailing behind in a scurry or often catching a ride on mom's back - delightful! Considering all the swans in England are spoked to belong to the Queen, wonder who all these wild ones belong to her in the Baltic??
5) the noticeable difference in sailing in the Baltic is the lack of big seas and big waves - the distances between islands and/or bolt-hole anchorages are short, so the water is protected, and even when major winds blow up the sea doesn't get much chance to develop huge waves. Makes it very pleasant.
6) there must be 90% of the world's spar buoys planted here in the Baltic - I have never seen such well-marked channels or so many buoys. Makes it very confusing at times when several routes cross, as you have yellow over lack next to black over yellow, both telling you to do a different thing depending on which route you're on! Can be extremely confusing.
So, a few days spent at Marienhamn avoiding weather - I know the Scandinavians say there is no such things as bad weather, only bad clothes, but you know what? I hate standing in the rain, good clothes or not!! So we did the ferry to Sweden to stock up on booze thing, restocked the grocery lockers and the fridge, bought a new pick-up stick to replace the one we bent so badly we had to leave it behind, caught up with a zillion OCC and personal emails, and just generally chilled. Had a delightful German couple, Berndt and Elke, aboard for drinks - chatted to a couple of Brit boats but they have obviously become acclimatised to the Finnish silence and didn't want any further conversation so never invited them! It's a good life if you don't weaken!
It has taken us almost a year to get to Stockholm - been a long trip! We were supposed to be for the end of last year's rally, but because we decided to haul out in Loviisa Finland, we actually never made it to the last dinner in Stockholm but left everyone in Helsinki.
So it was with almost trepidation that we finally set off, out onto the ocean again, out of the protected waters of the islands - big adventure! Last year the rally had some real problems weather-wise, and I had images of huge winds blasting us in. As it was, we had a goodly breeze for sure, between 15-25kn most of the way from Marienhamn to Arholma, some 35 miles into the anchorage, and I have to confess to being quite pleased when we made the abrupt turn to port in order to enter the little channel behind the Swedish islands at last - it was a long day!
Arholma was a delightful anchorage - about 8 boats wedged up, stern anchors out, tied to a narrow rounded jetty at one end, but lots of protected space to drop the hook. Which we did, and retired gratefully below for a cuppa tea! By nightfall, the anchorage was choc-a-block, and still they were coming in! We watched with bated breath as a largish sailboat frootled around for about 30 minutes, skipper on his mobile all the time, dropped anchor in different places 4 times then raised it again, until he finally got entangled around the chain of a fairly sturdy motor boat - I think in desperation he simply tied up to the motorboat! We did see them both weigh anchor within the hour however, and make off for ports unknown!!
That night we had a call from Simon and Janet on Simoon, Baltic Roving Rear Commodores, who said they were in Saltsjobaden and enquiring whether we'd make it there before they left. So we changed plans, and made our way there instead of to either Navishamn or Wasahamn, the inner city marinas. Good plan, as it worked out - nicer little marina, very convenient transport into Stockholm by bus and/or train, good facilities including a small restaurant on site - and we are tied up facing the crumbling edifice of the very old Grand Hotel, still viable but in a state of very genteel decay!
The next few days were spent visiting Simoon and the Woolens aboard WishHound, making ourselves familiar with the systems of getting into Stockholm centre, visiting some museums (there are some 40 or so in Stockholm alone!!), and restocking the larder - grandson Jake is joining us for a week's sailing, and according to his mother he has a large appetite!
So, more of Stockholm later.
Wow - ten days, no blog. Must have been having too much fun!!
That's partly the truth, partly the fact that the Swedish telecoms system is not as comprehensive as the Finnish - wherever we were in the Finnish archipelago we had a signal and could use our wifi modem: here in the Swedish archipelago, it has been far more difficult to find this, so we have had far less access to modern communications.
Not that that has stopped us enjoying ourselves however! We have moved from Arholma, where we anchored after crossing from Finland, in and out of umpteen islands, anchorages and small marinas, zigzag tacked across channels to make some headway against winds consistently on the nose and crept in through the narrowest alleyways and scraped over shallow entrances into secret harbours to our hearts' delight, as well as spending some considerable time tied up to the jetty in Saltsjöbaden in front of the restaurant for several days of "civilisation" while we explored the museums and sights of Stockholm - all in all, a good time.
Stockholm has some 42 museums, so there was no way we were going to get to even half of them! We did visit the Nobel Museum - very interesting, the Vasa - fascinating story of this huge wooden war ship built back in the 1600s to be the "biggest and best" that sank within 30 minutes of its launch because the dimensions were all wrong - built too narrow, too high, and the slightest breeze that came in as she was launched tipped her over so water poured in through the open cannon portholes - and she sank, all sails still up, all flags still flying! What a disaster!!
We met up with several OCC friends: Nigel & Bindy Woollen, and Simon Fraser and Janet Gayner were in Saltsjöbaden, and later in the next 10 days we met up with Carol Martin from South Africa, and also a whole tribe of German and Swedish ICCY folk, waiting for a big ICCY rally to start at the end of July. Nice marina, great facilities (although no sauna - the only available sauna is in the Swimming Pool, which is a plethora of oversize naked ladies and gents stretched out on lounge chairs taking the sun!!), and a very nice restaurant.
Across from us is the Grand Hotel, a somewhat faded grand old lady of a bygone era - best story we heard on the trip was that friends attempted to book for dinner for 9 that night. "Que?" said the bewildered manager. "For a booking for 9 you must give us 24 hours notice. We can only take tables of maximum 5 for tonight." "Ok," said our friend, " can we book two tables, one for 5 and one for 4, for tonight?" "Of course," replied the manager, "no problem!"
John's grandson Jake joined us for a week, and it poured with rain for much of this time - nothing quite like a mile-long dinghy ride in our little Lodestar loaded with 3 adults when the rain is streaming down one's neck to make for an enjoyable evening! But we explored a different harbour every night, picking up a buoy in Sandhamn (known as the Cowes of Sweden) where boy the marina was jammed with some 250 boats of all shapes and sizes and the overflow marina of Lockholmen had a motorboat rally of some 50 fairly large powerboats stacked out to the rocks on either side.
Delightful anchorage in Grönskar found by a very tortuous entrance threading our way through rocks and shallows (0.7m below the keel!!) into a fabulous totally enclosed area - John and Jake went ashore to explore while I made dinner and John managed to collect a tick on his leg. Bit of a panic, with all the warnings of Lyme disease etc, but no ill effects - must have been the strong rum used immediately afterwards!
Örno was a island selected because of the various reports of the fabulous restaurant: narrow marked channel in (and of course what should we meet but the local bunker boat coming out, so we had to swan around for a few minutes because we couldn't both fit between the buoys at the same time!), leading to a small jetty. Oi vey, stern anchors needed - we haven't mastered this system yet, so we bailed on tying up to the jetty and instead went about a mile further up and anchored. That evening, just as the rain came down, we took our afore-mentioned dinghy ride in for dinner - stood like drowned rats in front of the manager pleading our case when he informed us the restaurant was completely booked out that night!! A mile back home, feeling very sorry for ourselves, but saved the situation by creating a 3-course slap-up dinner aboard for probably 1/4 of the price!! Next day we decided to stay put, walked the island flat (found the most interesting little museum), and had a slap-up lunch instead!
Then we took off for Malmo Kvärn, aiming to show Jake how to pick up a stern buoy and tie up to the jetty - arrived in the middle of an absolutely torrential downpour, thunder and lightning, couldn't see an available space (in fact couldn't see further than our noses!), so opted to go across the bay and anchor on the other side instead. Then watched several other boats being turned away, so we're happy we'd made the right decision. Next morning we raised not only the anchor but also a huge wooden pile about 5' long and at least a foot wide - no wonder we sat so securely!
Back to Saltsjöbaden, squeezed in tight next to Simoon IV with Simon and Janet aboard and immediately opposite the bar so lots of music and excitement. And then it was time to put Jake back on the plane to the UK - Norwegian Airlines, very slick, very efficient self-service check-in, which John and Jake promptly used - and just as promptly lost Jake's luggage as it disappeared into the bowels of Stockholm airport sans a baggage ticket attached as Jake still had it in his hand! Two hours later, still no bag returned, so we put him on the flight in the hopes that it will eventually turn up in Gatwick!
So the next plan is to make our way, weather permitting, to Denmark to haul out. The weather however is just not playing the game: it is foul, raining, wet, wind from totally the wrong direction. Do we just call it a day, haul out here in Stockholm and go home early?
Might be a good idea!
Well, what do they say about old Murphy? Never get too comfortable, because things will change!
No sooner had I sent the last posting out and we'd discussed plans for the next three - four weeks before haul-out than John discovered an engine leak! What had been a very minor drip was now more than was comfortable, considering the upcoming weather forecasts of adverse winds preventing us from sailing all the way south to Denmark.
So, quick search and some recommendations from friends took us just a few miles up towards Stockholm, to the Sune Carlsson Batvarv (yard) in Möroviken for a discussion with their mechanics. Once the confirmation came that it would mean taking the engine out to redo seals etc, and considering we are in the middle of the Swedish summer vacation so many spare parts places are closed or short-staffed, the decision became a no-brainer: the choice was plug on and maybe do some serious damage, or haul early and get it fixed.
So, the upshot of it all is, the mast comes out tomorrow, they start work on the engine (hopefully) on Thursday, but by that time we'll be back in dry land in Tring again!!
Short season, cold and wet season - as the Swedes say, summer here is short, and if you're indoors on that day you miss it!!
But we'll be back next year, with lots more to explore and places to tickle around in.
Well, someone told me it was summer, but I have yet to see the evidence of it! Long slow start to getting going this year: we left Tring, the car groaning under the weight of new sail, new charts (have to have paper charts and guide books as well as electronic - my skipper is a very traditional sailor!) - in the cold drizzle and 3 layers of warm weather gear. Off to Ipswich as a first stop, to buy She'll oil from Foxs and also meet up with Colin Jarman (newsletter editor) and wife Mary. Great lunch with lots of laughter together - Colin has been a sailing journalist for some 50 years so lots of stories! Then to the ferry, overnight Harwich to Hook of Holland. Blustery, in fact blowing such a hoolie as we say waiting to load that I hauled the Stugeron packet out the bag for later - just in case! But in actual fact the North Sea crossing was "plain sailing" - nothing to disturb a great night's sleep. Woke to thick fog, however, and by the time they lowered the ramp and let us off the ferry, it was chucking it down with rain. Great start. Remembering to stay on the other side of the road, we managed to negotiate through the sheets of rain and find our way out - destination Kiel, with a stop to lunch with OCC Rear Commodore Peter Paternotte en route. Another interesting get-together! Back onto the road to Kiel and another ferry - leaving a sedate Holland we are now screaming down the German motorway system past Osnabruck and Bremen - no speed limits, lotsa BMWs and Mercs and Audis doing their thing very quickly while we try to keep up and read the road signs at the same time! That hotel in Bad Bramstedt tonight can't come quickly enough - although the sun is shining, it's all very green and forested (except for the huge windmills churning away above it all) and it's all actually quite pleasant. NDR2 on the radio (although be good if they didn't play so many Justin Bieber songs!). See you tomorrow!
What a week! From the luxury of a 20 hour passage on the Color Line ferry from Kiel to Oslo, more like a cruise liner than a ferry boat, to an 8 hour drive from Oslo to Bergen to meet up with the participants of the Arctic Rally, then another 15 hours of driving back from Bergen across Norway and Sweden to Stockholm - Oi vey, launching Al Shaheen will feel like a holiday after this! But it was a fascinating week. The luxury ferry trip was interesting, although I have decided I'm not really cut out for cruise ship travelling - I got very bored with all the shops and restaurants, and spent most of the time in the observation lounge watching the stunning scenery up the Danish coast and envying the little yachts way down below us who were having a blast of a sail ! So much for thoughts of round-the-world cruising aboard the Queen Mary. However, the drive from Oslo to Bergen more than made up for it. The lush green fields sound gave way to spectacular mountain vistas as we climbed up the Hardangervidda -I was completely bowled over to discover not just snow-capped mountains (this is June, mid-summer remember) but huge still frozen lakes amongst massive snow fields. It was an incredible sight, and slowed our progress considerably as we had to stop and take photos all the time! The houses here in Norway are an eclectic mix of red wooden dwellings and old traditional dark wooden double-storey buildings with the top floor larger than the ground - why? Not sure! Many of them have "gone green" and have grass roofs - and we found one little village of just sod houses - must have been the local trolls who live here! It was a wonderful drive, done twice as we decided to come back the same way, just to see it from the other direction - it was just as spectacular. Once in Bergen we stayed with Jan Isaksen and Eli Steffensen, OCC POs who we had recruited back in Cape Town while they were still on circumnavigation - they have what is the ideal set-up for any cruiser and one that had John drooling. A lovely comfortable home with huge picture windows overlooking the fjord, their boat Jenny on a mooring at the bottom of the garden, and a boathouse with workshop that had John sighing! A great BBQ (chicken on a special gadget that was reminiscent of the South African beer-up-its-bum way of doing), some terrific conversation and just after midnight, Jan, Mike Bowker (their crew for the rally) and John decided it was time to fillet the last of Jan's barrel of herring! I bailed and hit my bed at that stage. Next day we sailed (well motored actually as there was no wind whatsoever, brilliant sunshine) around to the Bergen town marina to meet up with the other 9 boats on the Arctic Rally: a very interesting mix of youngish and older, big and small - 68' Nordhavn and 34' sailboats, Brits, Americans, Swedes, Norwegians: it looks like it's going to be a great rally up to the Lofoten to see the midnight sun, and I'm really sorry we're not on it. Then it was time to make the trek across to Stockholm, some 900plus kms. We broke it into two; with no booked accommodation, we started looking for something about 7pm. First hotel we found in a little village, not a soul in the place, one car in the parking lot, a snooty receptionist who had to "check the reservations" and then quoted us €1400 was smartly turned down, and we drove on: the next guesthouse (found on the Garmin) was closed for the long weekend, but the garage attendant pointed us in the direction of a place that had chalets - they were full with locals enjoying the sunny long weekend, but he suggested "maybe" a place a bit further away, down a 4km track. Pay dirt! For €600 we got not only a 3 bedroom 6-bed chalet with extra sleeping loft for another 6 at least, a big lounge, kitchen, dining room and enormous patio - but our own private sauna! It was on a farm, in a beautifully wooded area with a lake on the doorstep. What a pity we were only spending the night here! We raided the cooler box in the car, made a scratch dinner, had a sauna and crashed. Bliss. The next day we were into Sweden, complete contrast. Long low flat valleys, extremely tidy little farmhouses, no traffic on the road. We made very good time, in Saltsjobaden and ensconced at Var Gård, our hotel for the night, by shortly after 4pm. Which was an experience in itself: the hotel was actually closed for the long weekend, but they had "left the key in the little grey box next to the main door", so we retrieved this and let ourselves in, the only guests in a huge hotel/conference facility of some 200 rooms! Met with Jon and Cindy Knowles (Abracadabra) who were also at the same yard as Al Shaheen but have launched and on a buoy in the KSS marina here for cocktails, then a great salmon dinner at the Marina restuarant - and bed! Tuesday is mast-in day, then it's getting her ready to sail. Another season due to start!
What is it with boat yards?? Even the best have their off days it seems!
Tuesday bright and early we were at the yard so John could oversee the putting in of the mast (having watched the shenanigans of taking it out, this was a prerequisite to her being here for the winter!). Slow start; very slow start. Workers arrived at 7am prompt, then had coffee. At 8.30 they broke for breakfast; by the time we had offloaded our car of all our bags, boxes of groceries and alcohol and loaded same onto Al Shaheen (who was already in the water, mastless), it was time for tea. The travel lift did manage to launch one boat, then developed problems. Promises of a spare part for tomorrow, but no hassle, the crane was working so our mast could go in - when they found it, which took another 2 hours! And then it was lunch time.
After lunch it was all systems go, until John discovered that they had broken the VHF antenna bracket some time over the winter - another delay as a new one was quickly fashioned, replaced and the mast finally lifted. Very careful manoeuvring saw it slip cautiously into the requisite hole in the deck, wedges in place, and the riggers arrived to put the stays and shrouds in place - after tea of course. There was a problem with the two forestays which required someone in a bucket contraption to be lifted up by the crane to untwist the fitting at the masthead, but finally, in overtime as John refused to allow them to "finish it tomorrow", we were able to motor back to our spot on the dock, with a mast and basic rigging up.
Back to Var Gård for a shower and wifi catch-up, over to KSS for another great dinner (roast pork belly), bed!
Wednesday I decided to stay at the hotel and catch up with work, knowing that nothing would be ready for quite some time. Sure enough, when John arrived to collect me at midday, the tale of woe had grown. Now the crane had also given up the ghost! Still, we let them get on with their tea and lunch etc, while we beavered away doing our own thing and getting ourselves sorted. Accomplished a lot so long as we stayed away from them! Except that we discovered the bracket made for the VHF antenna was creating a 12 volt charge to the boat, so has to be removed and another one made! That of course requires someone to go up the mast, and according to them, needs a crane. Which is not working at the moment.
We opted out early and took the train into Stockholm, to meet with Elvin and Fiona (had a couple of very socially raucous meals with them last year) - great restuarant, great meal, great conversation!
Thursday was another day, another problem - the 70 ton crane they hired to launch 3 boats whose owners are champing at the bit had a flat tyre en route so didn't arrive; the 30 ton replacement crane only got here well after lunch. So far it has launched one small motor boat and the crane driver has been asleep in the cab the rest of the time as the yard folk meander around looking lost. While all this has been going on, John has been up the mast 4 times for various things, and replaced the offending fitting - sans crane or any other fancy gadget! We have also put on all the running rigging, and right now he is stripping the furling gear for the jib for maintenance as it feels a bit tight. But the yard guys have at least had morning coffee, breakfast, a morning tea break, lunch and afternoon tea - and launched a boat. Glad I don't have to pay their salaries!
Well, it’s not Friday 13th so I suppose that’s one good thing!
Plans as usual have changed: when bending on the sails, we have discovered that the genoa furling drum has possible corrosion (probably from being stored outside over the Swedish winter!) and John, ever cautious, has decided to replace it – preferable to having it seize up somewhere on the North Sea in a howling gale, I have to admit. So that means an order to Massachusetts, and a delay of a week while they ship it out. On the strength of being here in the SC Batvarv (boatyard) for another week, we took the gap on Saturday to drive down to Mem and Soderkoping, the beginning of the Gota Canal, just to get a feel for what it’s all about. Very interesting – I think this Canal bit should be a fun trip! Some 58 locks in the 190 mile Gota Canal alone, but also two good size lakes to cross to give us some sailing as a break; lots of little villages and medieval towns along the way. And as someone said to us, “hope you like the colour green, because it’s green everywhere!”
Today (Monday) John is driving our car 470km across to Gothenburg, a 5-6 hour drive, to either put the car on a ferry from Gothenburg to Immingham UK and then catch a train back here tonight, or alternatively go with the ferry to Immingham and fly back here Weds. At least that means we will have a car in the UK (not Sweden) when Al Shaheen arrives back in UK in August sometime. So that’s been a good use of the time.
Talking of driving, these Scandinavian tunnels are incredible – miles of tunnel, with huge side branches coming in and going out mid-tunnel – and best of all, enormous round-abouts mid-tunnel to split traffic in another direction. It’s a bit like coming up on a vast space-docking set-up, except it’s subterranean! Driving here is an absolute pleasure, I have to say; everything is extremely well-marked, the Garmin works, the roads are not jammed with traffic and even peak hour moves along comfortably.
The yard is still in a bit of a mess, with no travel lift working: a German couple arrived this morning (Fri 13th for them for sure!) expecting to see their 60’ Halberg Rassy in the water, ready to go – well, the mast was put on today by means of a hired crane (crikey that mast is huuuuge), but no way that boat is going in yet! Two not-so-happy chappies pacing the docks, bags in hand, waiting to board. I suggested a hotel, but got somewhat of a scowling response! But as no mechanics and no parts have arrived to fix the travel lift, there’s not much else they can do – and Stockholm is a lovely city to explore, especially with the sun shining as it is today. Of course if they’d been here yesterday they’d have been really p...d off!
The summer had to end sometime - I was hoping it would be later than this, but what can I say?
Skipper John suddenly got his knickers in a knot this morning, decided we'd been enjoying the sunshine and the lack of stress too long, so before I had a chance to think twice, we had cast off the lines from Sune Carlsson and bade farewell to Stockholm!
Of course it was ideal weather - drizzling, foggy, chilly, no wind - what else could one want for a first sail of the season?? At least we got to try all the mechanics - glad to say the engine purrs, the winches work, the instruments are doing their thing and showing us where we're going - just as well, because what with the fog and double vision I had a real problem seeing either the red/green buoys or the direction to go!
But here we are, 19 miles down the drag towards Mem and Soderkoping, in a beautiful glassy anchorage, totally enclosed with only the narrowest on entrances between rocks splattered either side - one other boat ensconced tidily tied up to the rocks who looked on in disdain and amazement as we anchored mid-bay! No flag flying, so I'm not sure who the impolite gents are who refused to acknowledge my wave - but their dinner sure smells good!
An interesting first day, I trust the weather improves in the morning.
What a difference a day makes, as the song says! While the sun is not exactly shining, the skies are bluer, the cloud is clearing, the rain has held off. Lots more wind - but all dead on the nose for our destination, so it was another few hours motoring, but we'll take the bad with the good!
We have finished up in another delighted full anchorage, this one completely on our own except for a myriad of water-birds and babies - the noise is amazing! Swans and cygnets, ducks of at least 3 different breeds (I'm no duck fundi except when it comes to eating Peking-style) and little black balls of ducklings sticking close behind, seagulls and gullet yes - every rock ( and this being Sweden, there are a few!) is covered with birds. My twitchy son would be in heaven!
The biggest difference for me today was the ability to see - it freaked me out yesterday not being able to differentiate between the real land and the fog shadow! But today I can see the reality and pick up the buoys from a long way away, and feel much happier. The joys of eye problems!
Quite a few other boats out today (yesterday not one!), but they obviously knew something we didn't and we're all going in the opposite direction, towards Stockholm I guess for Midsummer festivals - and sailing. Our turn will come tomorrow, the weather guru says!
So in the meantime, it's home-made cream herring, by virtue of Jan Isacson's kind donation of herring already in brine so all I had to do was add the rest of the goodies. Delicious - this could become a firm family favourite.
It's been a changeable week, to say the least. Thursday drizzle and cold, Friday warm and dry, Saturday very wet and blowing a fair hoolie! So we stayed put in Soviken (on Toro) for another night, enjoying the bird life and late evening a solitary small boat that dived in past us in the driving rain and shot round the rocks to pick up a mooring buoy at the head of the anchorage where we'd almost gone aground in 2m of water - he'd obviously done this before!
Sunday the weatherman promised sunshine - he lied, but at least it was only grey, no rain. We'd planned to do a 30m leg out to sea, aimed at a little island of Harvinga, some 2 miles long and half a mile wide with a very small port. But the same was horrid, lumpy as hell, the wind in totally the wrong direction, so we bailed on that idea, and instead made for Lundarna SW of Agglosa, a tortuous passage twisting and turning through myriads of little passageways strewn with rocks for some 45 miles. Pretty tense at times - neither John nor I do shallow rocky water well, I have to say!
Nevertheless, by mid-afternoon we had tucked in at Lundarna, right near the entrance as again the inner anchorage, while beautiful in the extreme, showed dozens of X-marks denoting rocks, inevitably right where we would have anchored! The sun came out, we both relaxes in the sunshine (in fact both had an afternoon snooze!). Awoke to the wind having got up and having swung very close the the shore, a huge rock slab now uncomfortably close to our stern. So it was up anchor and off to find another bed for the night! Several attempts at spots marked with an anchor were discarded, when we saw a fairly open small bay, couple houses at the head with boats at their docks - and best of all, only one rock marked underwater. In we crept, mooched around, then dropped anchor - seemed no-one was at home as there were no flags flying and all the boats were closed up tight, the place was completely sheltered, so we stayed. Peaceful calm night in Arko Bak.
Today (Monday) we have moved a whole 10 miles to Karoholm! The sun is out, the wind has dropped off completely so it's absolutely pointless even putting a sail up, and we have taken an easy passage through the islands (lots of islands, as you can tell!) and dropped anchor off a huge farmhouse in - the farmer and family are sitting out on the lawn having lunch in the sunshine, and we are going to drop the dinghy and actually go ashore - motor around to the other arm of this little anchorage to see what the marina there offers.
By the way, we have been lunching on herring, kept in brine for some months by Jan Isacson then passed over to us to soak in water to reduce the salt, then bottle with sour cream and herbs. Delicious!
Ps just back from a jaunt out in the dinghy - Kareholm offers 3 pontoons and about 10 moorings, not a soul around so I would guess it is not a guest mooring place! But we're very comfortable at anchor in the inlet other side of the rick, in front of the farmhouse - owner has a beautiful wooden gaff-rig sitting at his dock so we feel quite at home.
One down, 57 to go - we came through the first lock of the Gota Canal today, a fairly comfortable experience considering this is known as the Divorce Ditch! But we do have another 57 locks (including two big "staircases") before we hit the end, so I'm not crowing yet! Then of course we still have the Trollhatten Canal after crossing Lake Vanern, but that only has about 6 locks - but about 12 bridges! Oh well, we will either be very slick by the time we get to Gothenburg or divorced!
The major drama of the lock was a little duckling, separated from its mother by the closure of the lock gate, who spent the entire time swimming frantically against the incoming thrust of water trying to reach Mom on the other side - poor thing would make it into the Lee of the two boats against the wall, get right forward, then just get shoved back to the other end of the lock by the force of the incoming water. A unanimous cheer and round of applause as the water drew level, the gate opened, and duck and duckling were reunited!
Bigger problem perhaps is the news from South Africa - major riots and violence in Pretoria/Tshwane (not quite sure why) means the town is burning and an absolute no-go area - and Garth needs to get into town to collect Connor's visa for a Friday flight out to Stockholm. Cutting it a bit fine? My nerves are shot!
Staying here in Mem tonight, then a slow move up to Soderkoping for the next 5 nights, from where we'll catch a bus/train to Stockholm to collect him, hopefully. Friday night is MidSummer Festival in Soderkoping, and the joint will be jumping, they say. Should be fun!
Huh, we have a neighbour rather closer than I like! Assured by another Swede that it's not poisonous, but all the same don't want him climbing my fenders!
Another few challenging days! We collected Connor (15 year old grandson) from Stockholm's Arlandia airport, which entailed a half hour bus ride then a 2 hour fast train direct to the airport, all very efficient. Connor had made a long long trip in - Johannesburg to Dubai, a layover, then Dubai to Stockholm, so he was looking pretty bleary and saw nothing of the Swedish scenery from behind closed eye lights on the return journey! However, he perked up on arrival at the boat, got moved in and claimed the pilot berth immediately. "My man-cave," he exclaimed in delight. Everything stowed, we had our first dinner together, salmon with new potatoes, then a trip to the famed Sodekoping ice-cream shop for dessert - 67 choices, each larger than the last!
We had our first full day in the Canal Sunday - 10 locks cleared, including two which were 3 gates in one. Definitely understand why this came to be called the Divorce Ditch - it can get fairly tense, to say the least. Especially when you're in a lock with a group of charter motor boats, who have no frigging idea what to do, so their boats are constantly swinging back into you or across the entire lock because they haven't tied on properly!
Anyway, we tried a combination of allotted tasks - John helmed, while either both Connor and I jumped ashore to take the lines, or later on the locks that were close together (some a 100 metres or so apart, the 3-gate one following on from each other) one or the other of us stayed ashore while the other stayed on board to thrown the lines up - worked better that way I have to say.
These are definitely not little UK type locks - these are vast 3m high raises, and the water churns in, demanding a careful watch on the lines to keep the bow pointing forward and not swinging across the lock! After coming through the last lock today, we have climbed 23m above sea level - only another 70m to go up before we start going down again - quite a feat of engineering, to say the least!
At one stage we all got stuck, tied up to a little dock in the reeds as we waited for the lock master (all youngsters on vacation jobs) took two boats through the next lock and then brought down a massive passenger boat - glad we didn't meet her mid-canal! Sat there for about an hour, so had an early lunch while waiting and a chat with the Norwegian boat behind us. Arne has done 3 Arcs, so is a well-seasoned cruiser!
The weather turned grungy late afternoon, so with still an hour to Norrsholm, we called it a day and anchored in little lake Asplengen for the night. John spent some time taking Connor through a whole series of knots (for his Scout Seamanship badge) - then the wind suddenly exploded into 20 knots with major thunder, lightning and rain and we dragged! Change of plan, we motored on to the next lock and tied up alongside - in the lee of the lock and out of the wind.
Connor and John stripped the inlets for the engine, and discovered they were full of grunge - perhaps this is why they suggest switching engines off in the locks! Dinner of curry and rice served and everyone crashed - a long and fairly stressful day.
Monday was an early start (that is 9am here, as that's when the lock keepers start!) through the first lock on onwards: several locks, several variety of bridges (swing, raised, sliding on castors, high overhead), including one interesting set where we had a road bridge (swing) followed 10m later by a lock, followed 20m later by a raised railway bridge! We were held in the lock pending rail traffic stoppage, a gap of some 20 mins to let boat traffic through. Oi vey!
Then a long passage across Lake Roxen - quite a lot of wind, on the nose, hobby horse motion not pleasant. The plan was to tie up at the start of the Berg stairway, a chain of 7 locks going uphill rapidly, and do those in the morning. Of course, all good sailing plans are pencilled in, so when we arrived this one changed, enabling us to climb the stairway and tie up at the top, in Berg.
I must say a huge thank goodness Connor's aboard - not sure these knees would cope with that agile jumping ashore. It makes a huge difference having a teenager aboard!
Those initial 7 locks at Berg were just the beginning: by the time we reached Forsvik 4 days later, we had done up locks, bridges, covered miles - but were up at 91.8m above sea level, a place an ocean going yacht like Al Shaheen should never be!
It was hard work, but with the 3 of us, we got pretty slick at it - when the weather played its part! It was traditional Swedish weather, we were told, sometimes sunshine, followed by torrential downpours for half an hour, drizzle and wind, then sunshine again. Very difficult to dress appropriately!
We took a lunch break on Tuesday to meet up with OCC PO Micke Westin and his father Jurgen, who are using a drone to map the various canals (there is quite a labyrinth of other canals as well as the Gota) to write a new guide. Then it was back to business again, and to our first manual local - thank goodness for Connor's muscles!
It can be somewhat tedious, to say the least, this Canal business. Several times we had to tie up and simply sit, thumb-twiddling, waiting for the large passenger boats to pass through first - mind you, seeing how narrow some of the canal is, you really don't want to meet up with them en passage!
We motored down to Vadstena, site of a 1500s castle where there was a possibility to tie up in the moat - we tried to do the tourist thing around the castle, but they were preparing for a wedding in one part so had closed some of the rooms off, and we couldn't get into another part because of construction, so it was a bit of a washout. Interesting, but nothing to rave about!
So then it was off again, across Lake Vattern making for Karlsborg for the night, and hoping for a good sail. Well, we managed to get the new genoa up to shake the wrinkles out - and give Connor some helming experience - but it really wasn't a great sail. Short seas, hobby-horse motion, then suddenly lots of wind when least expected!
We met up with Lore & Peter Vörsmann of SV Orion in Forsvik - fascinating couple and interesting boat. They were coming up the Canal, good friends with the Knowles of Abracadabra, and we discovered over several good aperitifs, also of Wolfgang & Gabi Schilling, last seen in Newfoundland. Small world! Lore is an exceptional sailor, professional crew, singlehander, kept us regaled with tales of derring-do around Cape Horn etc - a great evening that, tied up just before the last uplock, where the locals were out in force for a squashbox concert! Much hilarity and singing, a great way to spend a beautiful evening.
Then next morning it was goodbyes all round, and our last up-lock: 91.8m above sea level! Quite an event.
Now it's downhill all the way!
Forsvik to Sjotorp and the end of the Gota Canal: 58 locks in total, 19 done on Sunday alone! Fortunately all going down, as the downhill is definitely easier than the uphill!
Once again a complete mix of weather - Saturday was drizzly with thick black clouds overhead most of the day, Sunday started off in brilliant sunshine which became torrential rain just as we had to frootle around waiting for bridges and locks! Lots of bridges today, as well as lots of locks - quite a day.
But now tied up in Sjotorp, have just celebrated with a pizza (the ice-cream shop was closed!!) and need to decide where to go tomorrow. We have to cross Lake Vannern, and the choices are whether to spend time exploring the Lake or make for the Trollhatten Canal, get through, and spend the time exploring the W Coast of Sweden rather? We have to get Connor back to Oslo by 15th to catch his flight back to South Africa - choices, choices??
Tomorrow's question - I guess depends on the weather!
Wow, 64 locks, 54 bridges, miles of shallow canals, deep lakes and a combination of farmlands and beautiful wild scenery - and despite the Divorce Ditch name, we're still happily married! Due in large part to the presence of Connor on board, who was a great assist in doing those agile leaps ashore at the Gota locks and became an excellent lasso artist in the Trollhatte!
All in all it was a great experience, but a word of advice to anyone intending to do it: give yourself time to meander, time to explore, time to go where the wind blows you on the two lakes. We had a Schedule (self-imposed but determined by Connor's flight home) which meant that we spent a lot of time motoring with the wind dead on the nose in order to get to a specific point instead of being able to sail somewhere else simply to enjoy the sail! A lesson learnt.
The two canals connecting Stockholm with Gothenberg are very different: the Gota (built 1810 from Mem on the Baltic side of Sweden to Sjotorp on the east coast of Lake Vanern) has 58 locks rising 92m above sea level before dropping back down to 44m on Lake Vanern, and is 190km long. It is far narrower, shallower, with lots of pleasure boats with the interruption of the big pleasure boats working the passages - about 100' tourist passenger cruisers who have right of way. The locks are all worked by extremely friendly students during the season, and it is a pleasure to intact with them as you traverse. The cost of traversing the Gota includes 5 nights in each marina if you wish, and there are some 21 marinas and a gazillion cheerful little specialist ice-cream stands - you can make the Gota your entire holiday, take in major summer festivals and activities - and many do. We met one Swedish boat preparing to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary who had done the Canal, back and forth, 14 times!
The Trollhatte Canal (original built in 1800, runs from the west side of Lake Vanern to Gothenberg) has 6 major locks built for commercial shipping, drops 44m and is 82km long. Much deeper, much broader, far less traffic - except for the very big commercial cargo ships and bulk carriers that use the locks, leaving very little room for anyone else. We never saw an operator, as they seem to stay in their cabins and operate the locks without contact except occasionally by VHF channel 9. Very few marinas, and what there is is small: nowhere to anchor or hang out for the night. It is very much a means of getting from Lake Vanern to Gothenberg, not a holiday in itself! Except for the Trollhatte Steps (3 very deep locks) there is little to attract the tourist, definitely no ice-cream stands, the shops are a walk away, and in Lille Edet the toilet/shower facility was not nice. Not a holiday venue but a means of moving from one point to the other.
The methods of operation are very different too: the Gota are smaller locks (4 boats max), with rises/drops of approx 2.5m. A crew member is dropped ashore before the lock, and once the boat enters the lock stern and bow lines are thrown ashore to him/her, passed through a ring ashore and back to the boat: the stern line is attached fast to the boat while the bowline is played out as necessary. There is a fair amount of turbulence in the lock both going up and coming down: depending on the youthful operator you could have a fairly slow gentle water flow or a full-on gushing fountain!
On the other hand, the Trollhatten, while being far bigger locks (average rise/drop is 6-9m per drop), have been constructed in such a way that the water flow is beneath the boats, not ahead, so there is no turbulence at all. Here the deal is to have long ropes fore and aft, simply held by two people aboard: there are alternate gaps in the side with an upright hook to lasso and a ladder to thread a rope through - we found it easiest to have the hook as the stern rope and the ladder as the fore. As the water drops (going down obviously) the aft rope needed to be moved to the hook below (generally three hooks to go down), so we had two ropes, one in use, one ready to be looped over, as we never had a line long enough to cope with the full drop. On the ladder at the bow, we used a boat hook to hold the ladder, with a supplementary rope threaded through as well. Worked well, and we had no problems with the drop once we were attached - the problem comes in positioning the boat close enough to the wall to lasso the hook or catch the ladder - claus of some bad language at times! Still by the last lock, no 64, we were pretty slick! High fives all around as we cleared that lock and the last bridge out of Lille Edet: now a straight lock-less run to Gothenberg for the night. And a major food restock before moving up the Swedish coast to Fredericksburg, where we need to catch a train to Oslo to drop Connor off - hoping for some good sailing and quiet anchorages!
Later: well, a final crash-landing into Gothenberg in some 30knots of wind, of course, only to find the small Lilla Bommen marina recommended by all was a) very small b) choc-a-bloc full of little boats sheltering from the wind! So it was a case of being blown onto a stern-to tie-up against the outside wall, one fender popped, a small dent in the teak, some extremely bad language from both adults and horrified expressions from Connor, and we were finally attached to the wall, bouncing away merrily as ferries and big boats rushed past! Not the best place to be, but the wind is supposed to ease.
A Norwegian boat ahead of us agreed, but says it is the best of several bad options: no sooner had we tied up than another Norwegian boat launched itself at the wall between us - frantically fending her off the wall, we managed to get lines tied off and fenders down before she hit the wall too hard! Half an hour later she decided to move - an abortive attempt even with all of us helping, so they decided to also stay the night!
Just when we thought live was simple!
What was intended to be a morning's stop for grocery shop, laundry and showers turned into a two night tie-up to the wall outside Lilla Bommen marina - a Marina not worth the name of marina as it is too small for the volume of boats wanting to use it, too full of high speed ferries and tour boats, and too expensive - if you can get in!
We couldn't on Thursday night when we arrived, at the end of a long tiring day of frustrating bridge waits and lots of cross wind, and landed up having to make a crash-landing on the wall outside. Used up all our fenders on the port side! Not to mention several springs and double bow-and stern lines to try to help wi the constant rise and fall of the boat as the ferries charged past. Most uncomfortable. Initially just ourselves and another Norwegian boat, we landed up with 5 boats on the wall and spent several hours helping others as they crashed in!
We decided to take a longer break than planned, and spend the full day on Friday. Connor took off for McDonalds - not for burgers but because he'd found they have free wifi - and John and I walked to the two markets in town to restock for the next few days - great cheeses, bakery goods, fish to die for! Stocked up with hot smoked salmon, a great whopping slab of fresh salmon, and a huge block of fresh tuna - had to refuse the roe (Baltic Gold, at 450krone per kg!), and ten different selections of herring, as the fridge on Al Shaheen just would not cope.
The rest of the day was spent sorting out charts and putting in waypoints - the next legs up to Fredrickstad will be mainly inshore, what look like very tortuous passages, so lots of checking needed. These Swedish charts are in book form, but I find them very scrappy to use - a large scale map on pg 9 goes to a small scale on pg 47 then back to another large scale on pg 15 etc etc - and then to compare these to the chart plotter requires a bit of ingenuity and imagination!
Planning to leave Saturday, we woke to gale warnings and 25kn of wind, so landed up spending another day in Gothenberg. Connor spent most of the day in McDonalds, tucked in a corner out of sight of the staff, using their wifi and chatting up his friends. By this time we had made friends with all along the wall, and even manage to convince the Marina to give us the code for the laundry and showers!
Sunday it was drizzly, of course, but no wind, so we took off as planned, and motored out to Bjorko to refuel before setting off to weave in between all the little islands and channels - to Marstrand, home of Swedish racing, up the coast to Skarham, a mass of housing boxes on the hillside overlooking the bay. After aborting an attempt to force our way through a narrow rocky unmarked channel, we took the longer passage and landed up anchored of Norvikstrand - nice calm spot.
Connor had to get rid of some energy, so we dared him to make good on his claim to wanting "to swim in the North Sea" - this is as close as he's getting to it, so off the boat it was. Somewhat of a gasp when he hit the water, some vigorous strokes to stop the blood freezing - well done, I certainly won't be joining him!
Can't believe it's three weeks gone already - time to say goodbye to Connor already! Tied up to a high wall in the guest harbour at Fredrickstad, preparing to catch the bus to Oslo on Saturday to put him on the plane back to South Africa - it's been a good time, although as usual the weather could have been kinder!
Still we got some good sailing in the last few days up the coast from Gothenberg; some fairly boisterous sailing at times, with 25-30 kn of wind bouncing us around and putting a slight tension into the crew - hauling in the gib at 24 knots was quite an experience for him!! Retired down below after that, with his hoodie pulled up over his head "to sleep".
Our last day's sail into Fredrikstad was a delight; mellow seas, a good 15 knots on the beam, beautiful sunshine, everything anyone could have wished for. Six hours of sailing, then the motor on as the wind dropped and we slipped into Fredrikstad up the West River. Tied up in this little guest harbour - one middle pontoon with boats either side, long high wooden pontoon aides, probably about 35 boats maximum: bright yellow containers for the showers, laundry and toilets, water and electricity. And a caravan park of typical Scandinavian style - but of a shock for a good South African like me, but they seem to be ubiquitous here - big motor-homes parked on a marked road surface, with inhabitants sitting in their deck chairs on the tar! Not a tree or blade of grass in sight: not what I'm used to!
A major clean-up and some minor repair work done, and we were off to explore - free ferry across to the old town, built 1564, home to some delightful old houses and cute kids making a quick buck from the tourists. The usual tramps under the bridge waiting for the ferry too; and the most amazing model railway set-up: 2 miles of tracks weaving in and out of a complicated landscape filled with fabulous little vignettes of life. What a find!
Back to the boat, wifi work in the later afternoon (Jenny doing the eBulletin, John sourcing charts for Norway, Connor what's-apping friends back home again). The little guest harbour slowly fills in, the light slowly drops, and it's bed time once again.
Well, Connor's left us, to make his way via Dubai back to South Africa and school, and now John and I are lone lost dogs again - suddenly there's no-one to call on to make a cuppa or more importantly, to hoist the main when needed! I'd forgotten just how heavy that dratted thing is - watching Connor haul it up hand over hand with seeming ease convinced me otherwise. Know that you're missed, Connor!
Not that we've had to haul the main up all that often so far! With serious heavy weather keeping us in Fredrikstad for an extra day (which we though we'd use to reprovision only to discover all shops in Norway close on Sundays!), we finally left early Monday morning, planning on a good sail (NW 10-15 the weather guru said, perfect) across the gap to the east coast, aiming for some 10 hours away. Of course no-one should ever believe the guru, and that day was no exception. SW all the way. Dead on the nose, big lumpy seas left over from Sunday's blow - we plugged away motoring at it for some 6 hours before eventually deciding to raise the sails, and take several huge tacks back and forth, increasing the miles extensively but at least making for a more comfortable ride.
It was a nervous passage: the GPS suddenly decided to play silly buggers and did it's own thing for a few hours, so we were relying entirely on the chart plotter GPS. And our chart books, which John had made a special trip into Oslo to buy, only started after our anticipated stop for the night - so it was a bit worrying. Especially as the chart plotter had been giving us trouble just before! However, all was good, everything came together, and we finally anchored in Asvika, on Krageroe - 53 miles and 11 hours later we anchored, exhausted. But in an anchorage so sheltered I don't think we moved from where we dropped the anchor! A good sleep, in almost total silence, after a great meal of seared tuna.
The Norwegian Havnaguiden are great, with photos and short descriptions of each anchorage: of course the photos are taken by one of those real estate salesmen who manage to make things look much bigger than they really are, and the charts are full of X-marks-the-spot where the known rocks are, so things are always somewhat different than appears - and of course it is peak holiday season now, when every Norwegian and Swede is on vacation and at their holiday home/cabin on the coast with at least one if not two boats in the water: to say it is full is an understatement! The one advantage we on Al Shaheen do have over the Scandinavians is they all either tie up to the rocks bows-to or tie up along the rocks with fenders out - as there is no way my skipper will take his boat anywhere that close to a rock, we anchor out in the middle of somewhere accessible - which brings its own problems as most places here in Norway are steep-sided narrow bays, where the depth is on average some 20-50' (we usually anchor in about 10' max!) almost up to the sides of the rocks! Learning curve!
Today (Tuesday) was more amenable. We had planned to skirt along inside all the little skerries and inner passages behind the islands if the wind was still bad, and John spent hours mapping out the route and putting in waypoints on the plotter. We had several alternative anchorages selected, just in case. But regardless of the forecast, there was absolutely no wind at all, 2-5 knots at most and Al Shaheen takes at least 10 to even get moving - so once again we plugged along. Every other boat was doing exactly the same, except for the occasional brave soul with a flapping spinnaker going in the opposite direction! We changed plan, and went outside fairly close to shore, thinking that if we made more time and distance today, we could get to play a bit tomorrow or so, with some time in hand before our Stavanger deadlines arrive.
So, 32 miles later, we are anchored up in Alvekilen (having aborted our first choice of Tromlingene as just too small and crowded - looked like half Norway was camping there, with tents for Africa ashore and zillions of little boats everywhere!), a delightful spot. Connor, why aren't you here with us - this is swimming territory for sure! Big Norwegian boat came in just after us, and to John's horror anchored right on top of us! But he dragged badly (it's that Bruce you see, not a Rocna!), and finally ended up, red-faced, appropriately far enough away. Said he wasn't used to dropping an anchor!
So what will tomorrow bring? Grimstad, the sailing ship town? Who knows! John is using the time to do some more of those odd jobs (where does he always find them?), while I am about to catch up on the world by reading The Times!
Suddenly realised I have not posted anything for some time - too busy having fun!
We have day-sailed (well, change that to day-motored) all the way round the bottom coast of Norway, anchoring in Asvika on Monday (52.6 miles from Fredrikstad) after painfully beating to windward for a few hours but mostly motoring in wind on the nose.
Tues: Alvekilen 32.4 motoring - beautiful little protected anchorage with just a few summer cottages dotted around - a family on shore barbecuing watched in amazement as we crept in through a narrow passage, avoiding the rocks. Not a breath of wind all night - another big 47' plastic fantastic came in late, anchored and promptly dragged down into us! Conversation ensued re the best anchors, he preferred to tie to the rocks, we preferred out our Rocna! Woke in the morning to find them all shut up and fast asleep, his stern inches from our bow. Our somewhat disgruntled exit was spoils by hitting the only rock in the exit! Teach us to concentrate!
Weds: Grimstad (14.7nm) was our next port of call, nice little town where we tied up alongside - a kind boat left the pontoon just as we arrived so we zapped his space. Unusual tie-up, shackles on the edge of the pontoon which were all taken up by thick green rope tying the pontoon down to massive concrete blocks underwater. Interesting exercise threading docklines. John spent the afternoon climbing the hill behind the town - dinner ashore at the local dock cafe, nice to eat someone else's cooking.
Thurs: Kristiansand (31.5nm, motored all the way through the Blindleia). A stunning passage, if a tad nerve-racking! Very narrow, very crowded (and this isn't even full season!), so every narrows is a competition to see who will get in first - a train of boats behind (sailboats remain behind, but power boats all try to overtake!) a train of boats in the opposite direction. Barely gives one time to appreciate the beauty of the passage - we'd hoped to anchor somewhere in the Blindleia, but John just didn't feel comfortable with the swinging room etc, so we exited and pushed on to Kristiansand instead.
Arrived in Kristiansand in rain and light fog, to a Marina that was overflowing with boats, so we skipped on the Marina and opted to anchor in 6-7m just outside below the cliffs; lovely spot, originally had 2 Dutch boats with us but they left early so we spent a night alone - except for the beery cheery campers on the rocks nearby who sang Norwegian folk songs until late - and the Norwegian large Viking lady who appeared alongside in full wetsuit, obviously training for a Channel swim!
Fri: Mandal (25.2nm) - lovely little town, very friendly, with a fish shop to die for! Once again tied up alongside: there is already a slight decrease in the numbers of boats around as we turn the corner slowly. Had a crab dinner at the fish shop - very nice. However, for the first time we encountered the system of having to pay extra for showers, over and above the already fairly steep Marina cost. John decided he'd have a cold shower, and came back very disgusted because even cold water was going to cost him £4 for 5 minutes of water! Needless to say, we showered aboard (water hot from the motoring) and then filled up the water tanks with free water for the next day - and washed down the decks too while we were about it!
Sat: Farsund (27 nm) another motoring day, dead flat sea, sunshine, not a breath of wind. Could be worse I guess! Another cute little village nestled on the sides of the mountains, another charge-for-showers Marina (tied up alongside with 3 other yachts after chasing/asking politely if a small motor boat would please move his skiff back to give us space) but interestingly an honour-box system for payment of Marina fees. Wouldn't work in South Africa, that's for sure! Late evening had a Dutch boat arrive and manner around looking for space, and we suggested he tie up alongside us: convivial hour or so thereafter with them, who brought Norwegian Aquavit and their charts to show us some of their favourite spots.
Farsund has an interesting entrance, where you slide along a lovely empty beach into a narrow channel, take an abrupt turn to starboard to sail down through what almost appears to be midtown, into a big pool where the Marina is.
Sun: Rasvag, Hidra (21.2 nm). One of the most delightful places so far - a gem! Suggested to us by the Dutch couple last night as a stop-off midway point on the long boring run to Eggersund, an incredibly narrow entrance (which we would never in a month of Sunday's attempted without his say so!) into a tiny little bay completely surrounded by hills and the Listafjord mountains, with about 30 beach houses and dozens of little boats, run by everyone from 5 year olds darting about to visit friends across the other side to wizened old codgers off to garner their daily catch. Once again an honour system, but we didn't have the correct change to pay the 150krone so used their washer/dryer to make up the balance and paid 200 - free showers though, lovely hot water, an absolute delight!
We took a walk up the hill, and met up with 73 year old Leon, owner of a traditional summer house that's been in the family for generations, and who has landscaped the hill behind him to create a magnificent rockery. We had a great chat sitting up on his deck surveying the scene, and left the richer with lingonberries and a packet of crab claws for dinner!
Mon: en route to Eggersund - and sailing! Overcast skies, but 15kn wind, cruising along comfortably at 6kn with just the mainsail up. Fabulous!
4pm what did I say about never believing weather gurus?? No sooner had we got used to this wonderful sailing experience than the wind blew up - 29kn+ was the highest seen - the rain came down and the sea turned nasty. With eventually just the mainsail up and two reefs, we were still doing 7kn - Connor, another record!
In to Eggersund in foul weather, dropped the main ahead of a big warship (interesting!), and motored into the harbour. Horror of horrors - only stern to pontoons!! So, frantic change of docklines and fenders, and we attempted our first bows-to mooring of the season - much yelling and shouting later, I had managed to jump off the bow of the boat without landing either on my arise or my nose, and was frantically attempting to stop a 13 tonne boat from riding up the pontoon! Connor, did I miss you - we kept promising you a bows-first jump, but always managed to avoid it. Worst of all, just after we'd tied up successfully, a family of 4 with 2 small kids aboard came in next to us, and gave us a masterclass in controlled calm docking. So glad they hadn't seen us crash land!
An absolutely glorious sail all day 26th July, in fabulous sunshine - this is what heaven is made of! From Egersund 56nm north, around the pointy bits and into Stavanger past huge oil rigs in for repair and ginormous supply vessels and tugs - wow, different scenario from the little anchorages of the last few days.
We tied up alongside a floating pontoon in an extremely crowded Boreviga Marina, under the shadow of a huge cruise ship. Well crowded maybe gives the wrong impression - there are only some 30 slips, so doesn't take much to crowd it! We heaved and bounced all night as the ferries and tugs charged past, so when a yacht on the inside left the next morning, we dived in to take it's slightly more sheltered space - also alongside (unusual). Here we were now, tied up for the weekend we thought - there was bad weather coming, so we decided to take up the option of flying back to the UK for an 80th birthday celebration.
Great to see old friends back home, and to clear the postbox! Back to the airport again after a hectic 60 hours travel, and back to Stavanger, hoping to set off for the Orkneys early in the week, with Eoin Robson as crew.
Not to be. A huge front moved in, with big winds dead on the nose, so we sat for another two days - then another one - then another two. It seemed that just as one front began to clear, the next one rolled in right behind it!
So here we now are, 10 days after arriving, now taking what we hope and pray will be the right gap and changing plans, leaving tomorrow (Thursday 4th) to do some offshore sailing straight down the west coast of Norway and round the end across to Skagen on the coast of Denmark. We will drop Eoin off there to catch the ferry home, and proceed down the Kattegat towards Schlei (drop in on PO Claus Jaeckel) and through the Kiel Canal to Borkum. I remember Borkum well from our initial entry into the Baltic - we sat there with bad weather for a few days too!
However this time instead of a trip across the North Sea, we're planning to take the mast-up route through the Netherlands - pick up a few more friends along the way, and be back in the UK by the beginning of September. That's the plan - but of course as you all know, sailing plans are always written in pencil!
Well, what did I say about sailing plans being written in pencil??
After sitting in Stavanger 5 days longer than expected, waiting for a window to jump across to the Orkneys, we realised it wasn't going to happen within the time-frame we had for Eoin Robson to join us, so changed plans (twice) - first attempting to get to Inverness and through the Caledonian Canal - scrapped for the same reasons as the trip to Orkneys, winds in the wrong direction. Then planned to jump straight down the North Sea to Ipswich - also scrapped for weather reasons!
So the final plan was to take off in the window promised, cruise offshore around the Norwegian west coast and head for Skagen, a little promontory on the northernmost point of Denmark, some 240nm. Eoin would then catch a ferry back to Stavanger on the Sunday, and we would continue down inside the Danish east coast towards Kiel and the Netherlands. Not as planned, but the best of several options.
However, even that got blown out the window, literally. As you can see from the picture, that sunny window never materialised, we had strong winds on the nose for a good part of the trip so motored. Then finally when the winds changed slightly in direction, we took off under 1/4 of a gib and sailed downwind at 6-7 knots for about 100miles - huge swells breaking both astern and abeam, really unpleasant.
By the time we got to Skagen after 36 hours, we were in Force 7, shipping was piling into the tiny little bolt hole of an anchorage, and we couldn't fight both the wind, the swell and the current to get around the corner and behind the Lee of the land. We tried, believe me, for about 90 mins - Skagen tantalising 5 miles away, clearly visible, just impossible to get to!
So finally plan D came into operation, and a screaming downwind ride for 35 miles brought us back into Gothenburg, some 4 weeks after we left! Tied up in almost exactly the same place, with relief I have to say. It was a hair-raising 36 hours, and all I can say is thank God we had Eoin with us - fabulous crew, great help and a great companion.
What next? I don't know - that's tomorrow's problem!
Maybe we will at last escape Gothenberg - the gurus claim the winds are slackening and the gales dissipating - so who knows, the plan is to leave tomorrow morning (Thursday) and head down the Swedish coast for some 40 miles before making the jump across to Denmark. Second time lucky!
However, it has actually been a really good time: I have got an enormous amount of OCC admin done, John has done a lot of boat jobs (never-ending!) and we have met some really great people and had some really fascinating conversations!
Tied up across the pontoon from us is Laura, a little 1975 Halberg Rassy, one of the original, owned and skippered by Beate, a 50-something German lady who works for the EU Environmental agencies in Copenhagen. Disabled after a disastrous nerve disease back in her 20s, she lets nothing get in her way - an inspiration and lesson to us all. She, together with her musician partner Enno (who has just left to go play a jazz concert with a fellow sailor/musician up in Iceland) joined us for some raucous evenings, swopping stories.
Then we met up with Monet, 3 Brit gents on board (wives had left to fly home while they enjoyed a leisurely trip back to Dover) - and once again, some great evenings of fun and laughter over a few drinks. Sailors beat fishermen at tall tales anytime!
Then the Irish arrived, in the shape of Pylades, fresh back from a lightning trip from Ireland to St Petersberg, sheltering now prior to making a dash for Inverness and the Caledonian Canal (which if you remember had been our plan B?). Again, wonderful stories, told in a lilting Irish brogue, which covered circumnavigating, buying a new motor-bike and being told by the previous owner of the 15 ways he could die on the way home, writing and philosophy - all the topics you cover when with an Irishman!
We'll miss them all, but feel we have made some very good new friends!
However, today there was an emptying of the marina as brave souls took off in the rain and wind, believing those gurus' promises that all would get better. So tonight we have been out on the pontoons, fielding off plastic fantastically as they slam into the dock sideways or using our big red buoy as a protector, running up and down the side of Al Shaheen trying to stop these idiot motor boaters who think bow thrusters mean go faster not go in the right direction - one clobbered us, big shrug of the shoulders under his long matted locks was all we got - but just as well he was Polish and his English bad or he might have taken umbrage at John yelling "get away from my boat you fat cow!" Or the kid on the Belgian sailboat who was quite startled when John yelled "hold that rope you twit - don't just stand there with your hands in your pockets!" Crazy end to an industrious day!
Hopefully off again tomorrow morning early (Monday) - we crept into Halmstad two nights ago, just making it ahead of 28 hours of 30-35 kn winds and tanking rain. Bashed our way into one of these Danish box moorings - two poles astern that you have to loop your lines over before creeping forward to jump ashore over the bow and attach bow lines to the pontoon: not the easiest thing in the world when your freeboard and pulpit is as high as Al Shaheen's - or when your depth of perception doesn't work properly! However, a bit of squeezing and shoving, with some help from the man on the next door boat who was absolutely gob-smacked by our inability, and we were in. Tied up tight for the next two days.
No sooner were we ship-shape, after a fashion, than a kid came down to take the money for the night, give us a card for the facilities and point us in the right direction. We decided to go ashore for supper - and had only got 200m down the road when the rain started! Oh well, we were in full foul weather gear - and hungry - so we battled on. To find the most delightful little place, tucked away in a new-build complex of apartments, 15 tables max, incredibly friendly and good. Well worth the getting soaked!
We bounced around all night aboard - ever been seasick when tied up in a marina?? Howling gale outside, pounding rain - by the time morning came, we had decided we needed more sustenance than a muesli breakfast aboard, so legged it between the rainstorms to the little cafe on the beach and had the most amazing buffet in the quaintest place - chatted to locals, got some good advice (most of which consisted of "stay put, don't move today"), then back to the boat for a day of trying to dry extremely damp clothes and catch up on admin and inside boat jobs.
The rain stopped today, but the winds were still strong and the sea pretty unsettled, so we took their advice and stayed put. In fact went walk-about into town: pity we hadn't made it last night, as the circus was just packing up. Literally!! Big caravans, fairground rides, the whole nine yards. What it would have been like in the rain, I shudder to think.
Back for late smoothie at the beach cafe, and a giggle - must have been Pug's Day Out, as the beach was inundated with pugs tearing around chasing each other's tails while the owners stood chatting.
Weather has changed, the wind has definitely dropped, the rain has definitely stopped. So we will take the gap tomorrow early, and make for Hundested in Denmark, some 55nm west. We're getting there, albeit very slowly,
An absolutely glorious sailing day from Hundested, sunshine, wind on the beam - we had just commented on the fact that there were very few boats out enjoying this special weather when the VHF radio burst into life: "Al Shaheen, Al Shaheen, this is Danish warship Absolon. You are in the direct line of fire of a live firing exercise. Please leave the area immediately." Well, that sort of spoiled breakfast! Inspection of the AIS showed that those 3 marks astern of us were 485' military vessels (presumably the shooters), the mark or abeam of us was Absolon, the guard watchdog, and the one vessel directly astern of us was another military vessel chasing us!
Prompt alteration of course 90 degrees to make for shore and get out of the firing line - not 30 minutes later there was a series of crumps as they let fire - followed by several more series. We couldn't see any massive eruptions or spumes of water, but were followed by a drone for a few minutes, I guess just ensuring we stayed out of the way. That's what happens when you have a boat with an Arabian name!!
Other than that, it's been a delightful few days - a good motor-sail from Halmsted Sweden to Hundested in Denmark, where we were greeted at the dock by Mike Smith, long time OCC Baltic sailor (been sailing these waters for 10 years now). Good supper ashore with him, catching up - last time we met was in Helsinki on the Baltic Rally - and then he came back to the boat to share some of his favourite spots with us. Pity we're not spending more time here!
Yesterday, apart from the live firing exercise, was a fantastic sail - in sunshine all the way, into the little island harbour of Sejerea. A fishing port really, not very busy, we lay alongside very comfortably, took a casual walk into a lovely little village to buy some fresh bread, had a hot shower (5 krone for 3 minutes hot water so it was lather up and rinse off fast!), caught, up with emails and the inevitable bad news in the papers, then a bed which I couldn't settle into as it wasn't rocking! After the horrors of Halmsted where we almost bounced out of the berth at times, this was very strange.
And today, Wednesday, we have the spinnaker flying! Gentle 8 knots of wind, sort of on the beam, just enough to get us down the passage we want towards Lohals, another one of Mike's suggestions. No military exercises today - but chatting to a Danish lady last night, she said all the Danes used an app provided by the military which tells them where and when the live exercises are going to be. Should have found out about that sooner!
Well, amazing what weather does for you! Our sailing plans this year have been somewhat thrown out the window, changed so many times I've lost count, but here we are, 3 years after we arrived in the Baltic through the Kiel Canal (and a wild and woolly entry that was, almost run down by 2 ferries and a huge container ship in the dark of night!), back in the same little yacht basin at the Kiel Canal, waiting to exit tomorrow (Monday) morning. Lots of water under the bridge, as they say!
We had a wonderful motor-sail across the shallows from Lohals into Kappeln on the Schlei, and landed up staying for two nights at Viking Willie's boatyard, entertained royally by Claus & Lindi Jaeckels, old friends and also OCC Port Officers. Lots of stories, lots of laughter - although John kept his clothing well away from Otto von Bismark this time, as the little schnauzer had merrily chewed his rucksack and hat to bits last visit! Viking Willie is a real old reprobate, with a wonderful boatyard that concentrates on wooden boats - he lives aboard a converted fishing boat (complete with sauna!), and takes off every summer to sail, leaving his boatyard with just an Honesty Box for visitors like ourselves. What faith in humanity!
Leaving Kappeln is a bit of a drag, in more ways than one, as it is a long 7m trek through the shallows back out to sea - where the wind that wasn't supposed to be there hit us at 20-21knots! Two reefs in the main, skinny jib, and we were still doing 7 knots - only to get tangled up in a Saturday Regatta of note, some 80 boats of all shapes and sizes, tacking and gibing and crossing us at every angle imaginable! Add to that the ferries doing 25knots and the container ships and tankers all making for the entrance to the Kiel Canal, and you understand why things got a bit heated at one stage.
Then the locks - Connor where were you when we needed you?? We got thrown out of the "small craft" lock as this was closed and put into the big ship lock - pontoons way down at water level making access a feat of gymnastic endeavour on my part (in fact a nice young man came to take our lines, but I literally fell into his arms when I jumped down - mis-calculated the depth altogether!). Then coming out John's favourite waxed cap blew overboard - he spun Al Shaheen round to pick it up only to find ourselves staring up into the bows of the big tanker exiting the same lock! Hat lost.
Two hours later we called it a day, and anchored in the only stopping point along the 50+ miles, a little river just off the main canal. Quiet, secluded, only 3 boats there - until the storm arrived! 25 knots of wind and chucking rain for about an hour - one of the boats dragged, much torch-shining and yelling in the night (by now pitch dark); then it stopped, as abruptly as a light being switched off, and all was calm again. Oi vey, life does get exciting at times.
Long motor down the Canal today, 8 hours of fairly monotonous stuff - nowhere to pull off unless you actually want to go into the only town on the way, nice enough scenery, not too much traffic (only about 30 big ships in both directions), so it was good to finally make it into this little yacht basin. We had arrived fairly early, so got a spot along the pontoon - by nightfall, the yachts are rafted up 3 deep on both sides! Still, it's an overnight stop only, right next to the main Kiel lock so these towering great monsters exit right alongside us - quite daunting!
Tomorrow to Cuxhaven (only 16 miles) to get charts of the area down to the standing-mast inland waterway route through Netherlands: Connor, we could definitely do with you now - another 20+ locks to go through!
A series of events have culminated in us making a major jump across the North Sea from Germany to the UK, with the amazingly gracious help of Port Officer Albert de Heer, who has dropped everything and joined us by train from Rotterdam to make the 50-60 hour passage: an angel in disguise, Albert!
The trip through the Kiel Canal and along the Elbe was anything except what the weatherman and the gurus said it would be: light winds and sunshine was actually 15-18 knots on the nose and thick mist! When will we stop believing these guys?? About 16 boats left Brunsbuttel at the same time as us, most making for Helgoland, the staging post in the North Sea - and most of them turned in with us to Cuxhaven, giving up after 3 hours of hectic rush with a 4 knot tide along the Elbe. Needless to say, the marina was jammed full - the manager lady usually works 8-11am, then 4-6pm. Well she never had any break that day! Squeezed us in on a red marked space "on condition we leave first light" - well, by the next morning at first light, we had managed to find crew to help us get across to Ipswich, but said crew would only arrive that night, so we had to move berths.
Not a hassle, a day spent in Cuxhaven was actually well spent. Nice little town, great Lidl (see editors note below) (first one I've found where I could actually find anything!), raucous singing and musical accompaniment from some somewhat inebriated campers in the caravan park next door (80 camper vans parks on the hot Tarmac!), hot showers at €1 for 4 mins, two fabulous meals at the local yacht club restuarant - what's to complain about?
Albert unfortunately has had several train delays en route from Rotterdam, so will only be here after 11pm - but the beer is waiting and we should be off on the 8am tide out (running we're told at 6 knots in our favour, so that should be good!), and hopefully in Ipswich by Saturday midday. All being well. Not superstitious, so no fingers crossed or walking under ladders or whistling aboard!
Editor's Note: Lidl??? For North American readers think Costco or Sam's Club!
Full circle! We left Foxes Marina Ipswich in May 2014 for the Baltic, and here we are, back again - in almost the same berth! Hopefully some quick touch-up paintwork done, and then trek round the coast to the Hamble in time for the Southampton Boat Show and hopefully a quick sale.
Well, the question of course now is do we really want a quick sale?? Or do we want to keep her for another year, maybe go back to Holland and do the Dutch waterways for a season? Only time, and/or a potential purchaser, will make that decision!
We had a good passage across from Cuxhaven, 340m in 55 hours, very light winds most of the way so lots of motoring but that at least meant a nice calm flat North Sea - every cloud has a silver lining. Albert de Heer, PO from Rotterdam, joined us for the crossing - great guy, full of stories about his RORC racing days, and a great help as it meant I didn't have to do night watches. He was most impressed with Al Shaheen and her complete set-up, wanted to try all the sail configurations, so at one stage or another we flew the spinnaker, then the main and Genoa goose-winged out, anything to get some more speed! A born racer, all he wanted was more speed - difficult to do with a 13 tonne boat in 3-4 knots of wind!!
We made his day, however, by sailing up the River Orwell in a cracking wind, roared past Daq Attack who had arrived from France just 12 hours ahead of us, and only managed to get alongside the fuel berth at Foxes with the help of some serious manpower pulling on the warps from ashore. Settled her in, and hit the clubhouse for a cold beer - most welcome!
And what a welcome - a BBQ, cocktails and live music - we crashed early I'm afraid but the party went on until midnight. Music provided by Vic, an ex-Rhodesian, who insisted on calling me up to the mike to be presented with some biltong as a fellow African! Sat next to a delightful couple who had come in on their Triumph motorbike and who were exploring all the various marinas in the area looking for a permanent berth for their boat - he had worked for Triumph in Thailand for many years, just returned home. Interesting people one meets in the sailing community!
So, off back home by train today, will collect the car and come back to Ipswich Monday (public holiday here) to be here when they open for business on Tuesday - pressure is on to get them to do the necessary work and get to Southampton. But I think I will drive to Southampton, let John take the boat round with some other big strong male friends!! We'll see.
Back in Tring, Hertfordshire for the moment - Al Shaheen is in Ipswich having some minor maintenance and retouch before we take her the last few miles around to the Hamble to put her on a mooring for the winter (and accessible for buyers!).
We spent the last week clearing out lockers - as anyone who has a boat can testify, it is astounding how much one can fit into a smallish 42' boat - we have already filled a VW Golf to its rooftop 3 times and still have more! The apartment in Tring looks like we've just moved in: where the hell we are going to fit all this extra stuff I have no idea. OCC Treasure Chest, here we come!
Looking back it has been a mixed summer: some absolutely great moments, some frustration, some long boring times. Wonderful having Connor aboard for two weeks - only wish it had been longer and we could have taken him round the Norwegian coast, as this was some of the most interesting area! But sitting stuck in marinas with bad weather was very frustrating, and we did a lot of that this year.
Great trip back from Cuxhaven with Albert de Heer aboard - as a relative youngster (well below the 55 age mark!) and a racer, he encouraged us to put us sails when we probably wouldn't have, so we landed up using the spinnaker, goose-winging and generally sailing when the inclination was to motor - fabulous to have his enthusiasm!
The final leg is always a drag somehow, and this is no different. Crossing the Thames estuary is a pain at the best of times, and I hope we can plan to get a long single passage to get round to the Hamble, and don't have to make a series of short individual hops into harbours like Dover, Eastbourne etc along the way. Not that I've anything against any of those harbours, but would just like to get it over and done with now!
End of an era for us and Al Shaheen? Well, only the next few months will tell. If she doesn't sell, we will be back aboard next summer, looking for the next adventure
I know many of you will relate to this, as so many of you are also letting go of your existing old friend and moving on!
It's been a good 15 years for s/v Al Shaheen, culminating in an excellent last 4 years of OCC service as the Commodore's flagship, but all good things come to an end sometime!
So it is for Al Shaheen: launched in 2001, with some 36,000nm now under her keel and some astounding adventures (which included my losing both the anchor and my red knickers on my second night aboard), the time has come for her to move on to other oceans and other shores without us. Sad, heartbreakingly so at times, but new things lie ahead for all three of us!
Looking back over these years, it becomes very obvious that Al Shaheen is an OCC boat! Born under the pencil of naval architect and past OCC Commodore Mike Pocock, with beautiful traditional lines and much that made the old sailing boats great, built in aluminium she is also pretty thoroughly modern: much as one celebrates and admires the olde ways, life has moved on and it is foolish in the extreme to constantly hark backwards to "how it used to be". So she has the best of both worlds, and always moves forward in good trim.
A very sociable girl, she has spent her time dancing along the waves to OCC meets and gatherings on both sides of the Atlantic, hosting cocktails in the cockpit and dinners down below to umpteen fellow members - at last count, John and I estimated we have physically met and interacted with some 50% of the OCC membership and have made many lifelong friendships and heard many many incredible stories.
At times she was abandoned in preference of a 747 to visit Australia, South Africa, British Columbia and Europe, or by train, car or ferry to Glasgow, Bergen, Holland and even far-away Dorset and Devon, but most of the myriad OCC events we have participated in have been reached under her sail. Events throughout the Caribbean, the Bahamas, the US E Coast all the way from Florida to Maine (where fellow OCCers were witnesses at our unexpected wedding) and up to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, up and down and across the Atlantic several times, members and non-members alike watched her appreciatively, graceful and proud as she paraded through the anchorages and marinas, delighted to show off her lines and welcome friends aboard.
What can I say? Al Shaheen has served us well, as an impeccable sailing yacht, a warm home and a welcoming place to gather friends - she is an exemplary example of good design, good build, with much forethought and planning put into both her execution and her maintenance. She showcased the skills and temperaments of her owners, past OCC Commodore John Franklin and Jenny Crickmore-Thompson, Port Officer Co-ordinator (and Jill-of-many-trades!).
May the next owners be as blessed as we have been: may they have the same dedication and work ethic as they travel the globe: may they enjoy the same excitement as we have as they explore new seas and new shores with her.
The future for John and I brings new challenges - a trawler on the E Coast of USA? A canal boat in Europe? A classic wooden boat up the West coasts of Scotland and Ireland? A land rover trip across the Russian steppes? Who knows!
An end? No, not really - just a wind-shift!
1st May, May Day, and we are off on an adventure of a different kind - one where we have 3 meals a day provided, someone else to worry about the navigation and weather problems - and I don't have to put the sails up or drop the anchor! 10 days of ultimate luxury aboard MS Vesterålen, from Bergen to Nordcapp via the Norwegian coastal ports. A combination of birthday celebrations for both myself (March) and John (May) - kicked off with a Business Class flight from U.K. I've died and gone to heaven!
Well some sort of routine has already developed: chat to folks, explore the ship, eat, chat some more, explore some more, sleep, eat, explore some more! Arrived in Bergen after a delightfully comfortable premium class flight c/o airmiles, took a taxi to the dock and checked in, no.2 on the list as we were very early! Chatted to some Aussies from Perth, Pat and Richard (in tertiary education) who were no.1, and like so often happens became firm friends almost immediately. We boarded shortly after 4pm but could only get into our cabins after 6pm, so after an initial explore, landed up in the coffee shop - where we met up with Bob, an absolute scream, another Aussie, this time an insurance agent and Anglican priest from near Sydney. This is going to be a good trip!
Wandered around exploring, fascinated to see that even though we are relaxing and doing the touristy thing - workers still work - two youngsters with a pot of paint spent the entire time the ship was in the dock dekicately toouching up the sides of the vessel,
Our cabin is small, but more than adequate considering we will not do much more than sleep in it. Unpacked, and back up to join our 3 new friends for buffet dinner - and what a meal it was. As always with buffets, the temptation to overeat was far too strong to overcome - although we did all indulge in several bottles of water (the wine even by the glass is just too expensive!), and we had a great meal with lots of laughter as the ship sat on the dock loading cargo. 9.15 we had a hilarious intro by the purser detailing the schedule for tomorrow, which I gather will happen every evening, then it was time to slip the lines and set off: John and Bob stayed at the bow for several hours ensuring the captain knew what he was doing, but the rest of us bailed and hit our beds.
Big day ahead!
John and I have not done any of the organised tours yet - yesterday in Alesund we met up with Frank Cromer, our OCC Port Officer, who kindly gave us a short personal tour before we settled down at the top of Aksia with a spectacular view (that useless superlative again!) to discuss a possible rally here in 2019 - exciting!
John went ashore late last night in Molde for one of the purser's whistle-stop tours, but I retired to catch up on both emails and reading up on the area - fascinating.
Today we walked to Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim, and had an exceptionally interesting guided tour of this ancient cathedral where St Olav, patron saint of Norway and erstwhile king, is buried. Begun on about 1070, this cathedral boast two magnificent organs - love to have heard them play! Magnificent building - how come the medieval builders could put up edifices like this while we modern folk can only manage cold concrete slabs or glass boxes??
Then a lightning visit to the Resistance a museum, covering the years of Norwegian resistance during WW2 - fascinating to read of Quisling and the collaborators, of the "Norway buses", fishing boats that travelled in secret between Norway and the Shetlands to both rescue and land Norwegian and British soldiers and provision and supply arms to them. John's just reading The Shetland Bus by David Howarth covering exactly the same time period and people, so this was very timeous.
Back on the move again by noon, next stop Rorvik at 20.45 but we leave by 21.15 so I can't see myself going ashore! Before that though, we have the Coastal Kitchen - a daily experience when the Chef de Cuisine demonstrates a delicacy of the region and provides a taster - yesterday was salted mutton (exactly the same as biltong, air-dried salted meat, delicious), today is mussels on the aft deck. Interesting!
We have absolutely raucous meals at our table: we have made from friends with 3 Aussies, Richard and Pat from near Perth, and Rev Bob from near Sydney - latter gets off at Kirkenes, former at Trondheim on the return trip, and we go our own ways during the day but are all at the same table for dinner. Wednesday night Bob decided to enquire whether it was possible to have a sticky date pudding, as he'd fallen in love with this delicacy in Shetland. Needless to say, our delightful waitress Kirsten had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, and the conversation degenerated very rapidly into a discussion about what she called blackthorn berries, the closest she seemed to come to dates. However, she has promised us "something special" later in the trip, and sure enough tonight's dessert (Friday) is made of sea berries (blackthorn/looks like a lingonberry but is golden yellow - apparently has as much vitamin C in one little berry as a full orange!
There is an interesting mix of people on the ship, quite a few Germans, some Dutch, a tour bus full of Norwegians boarded in Trondheim yesterday swelling our numbers noisily, and a fair contingent of Brits and Aussies. Great fun talking with different people each day! Couple of the usual dour folk, a German couple who barely speak to each other and certainly to no one else, an English woman who keeps asking the purser the most inane questions "When are you going to speak English?" being the most common one, refusing to hear that he switches fluently between German, Norwegian and English in order for all explanations! But most folk are here to enjoy themselves, and enjoy themselves they do.
The chefs special of mussels Weds was a great success - shades of Indian Point and Mahone Bay, Peter & Terry! But freezing cold on the aft deck, despite the sun screen shelter - not somewhere I could have spent long I'm afraid. Fascinating rack of drying fish up there - wonder when we get to eat that??
Then it was round to the bow, to stand outside in the howling wind as the captain negotiated us through what seemed to be an impossibly narrow channel - those 10 minutes outside confirmed that I would never make a Polar explorer!
Thursday morning we woke early (having slept through 3 stops in the early hours, one of which was only 5 minutes, Nesna, from 05.25 - 05.30 - what happens there that they even had to stop? No time to even through the line ashore before we left again!) Sudden announcement over the tannoy "we reach the Arctic Circle in 10 minutes" had us scrambling to get up and dressed - not easy in these little cabins! Then up to the bow to watch the globe glide past - quite a special feeling, I have to say. And absolutely spectacular scenery, no words. A little house on the starboard side - a hotel for people wanting to sleep on the Arctic Circle?
Our first stop, after an early breakfast, was Ørnes - I couldn't believe how many people live in this outer outpost of the world! It's -2° outside: what must it be like in winter? Lovely little fishing village of some 1700 inhabitants, until recently only accessible by sea. Villagers were totally dependent on the local freighter merchant to both sell their catch and provide necessities, and often the villagers were so in debt to the merchant that he basically owned the village. Now tourists visit, to see the old houses and experience the peace. A 30 minute stop didn't give us any time to explore though.
And no sooner had we left Ørnes than we had Neptune come aboard: we had crossed the Arctic Circle some 3 hours earlier, but he's obviously a late riser! Not that I blame him, it's getting colder by the minute. The blue sky has gone, lots of snow and ice capped mountains, decidedly feels more Arctic! I bailed on the ceremony, being an absolute wimp when it comes to cold, but John was brave enough to go forward for his ice bucket christening and free warming shot - quite a birthday celebration!
We wound through narrow channels and avoided skerries and rock, to finally reach Bodo, our first shore exercise for the day. Not impressive! A new town, soulless, cold and grey, a big unexpected industrial town. We spent an hour or so wandering around concrete boxes then retired back to the ship for coffee. Some six hardy souls took the rib out to see the whirlpool at Saltstraumen where some 372 million sq metres of water are forced through a narrow gap at 29 miles an hour, four times a day. No wonder they have a big hydro electric scheme! But the thought of an open rib on a day like today was not at all appealing - did I mention I was a wimp about cold?
Many people left the ship here, and many newcomers came aboard. We chatted to Don, an 84 year old who is backpacking for three months, while his wife stays home. Says he phones her once a week! He has the cheap ticket, inner cabin in the bowels of the ship, breakfast only, has to either supply his own linen or pay $7 for sheets and a towel. Fortunately he has his own, and a sleeping bag, so he's ok. Actually I lie, that's not the cheapest ticket - I see you can also sleep on the deck for a nominal amount!
Dinner Thursday big was a hoot - we actually had a bottle of wine for the table (John's birthday celebration), first alcohol since leaving London so it didn't take more than a glass for us all to be decidedly tipsy! I had organised the crew to come sing a Norwegian birthday song - certainly not the traditional Happy Birthday tune but a delight of flag-waving and bobbing: very sadly I hadn't taken my camera so no record! The. Rev Bob has organised a chocolate muffin as a birthday cake - no candles as that would be a fire risk, but it's the thought that counts after all. A greatly jovial meal.
Bob and John took off to explore Svolvaer, but the grim weather had me retiring early - only to be hauled out at 11pm to go watch the ship turn around in the Trollharden Fjord - incredibly narrow, incredibly sheer-sided. Unfortunately we couldn't go in, as there was too much snow and ice on the mountainsides still, too great a risk of avalanches.
We are definitely in the Arctic now: surrounded by mountains and snow and ice, either towering above or or an occasional low-lying piece of flatter ground with, wait for it, some brownish grass!
Friday, day 5 tomorrow, and we are going dog-sledding!
Glorious fun day today - we went dog-sledding in Tromso! (As an aside, for those interested in military history, the Tirpitz was finally sunk off Tromso, killing some 1200 men).
Some 34miles out of town, up in the mountains where there was still a fair amount of snow even though it's near the end of spring, we were dropped at the dog centre on Kvaloya, to be greeted by 280 dogs all howling to be chosen to pull the sleds - what a row! They are housed in little wooden cabins, two to a cabin, and each pair shares both their cabin and is a running pair as well - Hannah our guide tells us it's like marriage, sometimes they are good sleeping partners but don't work well together in harness!
We all had to get togged up in these one-piece " survival suits", padded puffy suites that covered every exposed inch except hands and face - seemed overkill at the time but we were very glad of them once out on the trail. Allocated to a sled and team of 11 dogs who were champing at the bit to get off and running, we were tucked in behind a coarse reindeer hair blanket, and as the lead team took off, we fell in behind, a straining, snarling team of huskies trying to get ahead. Two other teams fell in behind us, but every now and then the competitiveness got the better of them, and we had a heaving panting mass of dogs up our left side - cries of "Gee!" and "Ha" got them back in line, somewhat disgruntled but fairly obedient.
It was a great run, some 40 mins charging along behind these wobbly-butted dogs - they settle into what is obviously the most comfortable style of movement, not a normal dog running, but a sort of bum/hip wobble that just keeps them chugging along steadily. Most amusing to watch! We climbed up gentle hills of fairly soft deep snow, rushed down areas where the snow was packed harder so the sled ran more easily and the dogs were almost pushed along - over little bumps of scrubby bush and stiff grassy tufts, never avoiding them, just bouncing over them. "There is too much water just under the snow to try to miss them," was the explanation - not convincing but also a bit scary to think we were running over water! And nerve-racking when the sled tips sideways - if we'd been going any faster the possibility of falling over must be quite high.
Our driver explained that the dogs can do 6-8 runs a day like this: she races a team in a 15 hour non-stop race up here, and there are several other races that do 600-1000 miles, with stops. Watching these little legs go, you can see that once they're In a rhythm they certainly could go on for hours!
Back at the dog centre again after an exhilarating ride, we visited the dogs who hadn't got to run today: some standing proud and expectant, some catching a snooze in their cabins out of the sleet: we met the oldest dog, 15 years old and still running but about to be retired, the blind dog who is an excellent middle-of-the-team runner and hates being left behind - then met the puppies, some 16 weeks old, and just starting to learn by being taken out walking by the trainer on leads and taught to respond to commands.
Then into a large round wooden cabin for coffee and chocolate cake. Back to the ship 3 minutes before sailing, just in time for dinner! All in all, a fabulous day.
Day 6 - Hammerfest, Havoysund, Honnigsvag, Kjollefjord, Mehamn, Berlevag, Batsfjord. Foul weather today: snow, sleet, wind, cold. Not at all pleasant. The snow and ice was still so thick that both the trip to North Cape and the Birding expedition out of Honnigsvag were both cancelled, as the roads were impassable -hope we can still do it as booked on the way back, even though it means a 5am start! Rev Bob was pleased however, as he got to the Sami fishing village and interacted with them, can imagine he had a ball.
In Honnigsvag John and I wandered around a bit, but with little open on a Saturday afternoon and the only museum in town also closed, we eventually made our way back to the warmth of the ship - icy roads, icy wind: at one stage I was convinced my contact lens was freezing and cracking!
Then we were off again, on a 3 hour passage that got bumpier and rollier as we made our way out and around the North Cape. The ship population disappeared as people took to their cabins and their beds: dinner became a buffet with free seating, and was very thinly attended! The staff met everyone at the door, and took your arm to lead you to a table - those who refused the helping arm dived from pillar to pillar as the bow bucked and heaved. No-one had soup! Pity, because it was probably the best meal we've had on board, huge king crab claws, shrimps, mussels, 5 different kinds of herring, salmon, trout - and for those who didn't want fish, slices of hot reindeer and veggies!
Berlevag - by the time we got here, just after 10pm, the sea was very rough, so bad that the Hurtigruten took one look at the huge waves breaking over the mole at the entrance, did an abrupt 180° turn and scuttled back out - bad luck for the guy waiting on the quay, suitcase in hand! This is listed as the most exposed port in Norway: twice the great stone mole has been crushed and the entire fishing fleet destroyed. Subsequently a new mole of tetrapods (giant 4-armed 15 tonne concrete blocks) was built and things became easier, but with huge waves breaking over this mole, the captain decided against going in. Wise move I think. Except for that poor guy with his suitcase.
A fairly bumpy night, lots of big waves slapping against the side of the ship - hate to think what would happen if we didn't have stabilisers! But all bad things come to an end, and as we turned down towards the Varanger Fjord, the sea quietened and life got easier. Strange movement aboard the ship I found, very different to a sailing boat!
First port of call on day 7 was Vadso at 06.45 and I left John to do the jump off the ship thing! Breakfast saw a few more people emerge from their cabins, some still slightly green around the gills even though the sea was like glass now. Takes its toll does this seasickness!
Kirkenes was the end of the road for many, and we said goodbye to Rev Bob amongst others. Sad to see him go, we'll miss his wry remarks and explosions of the giggles! We walked into town with Richard and Pat, spent an enjoyable couple hours looking at an exhibition of photos in the town square of one Ellisif Wessel, an incredible photographer and writer of the 1890s who recorded life in the area and championed the rights of the poor. Very interesting.
Drawn by the bells, we wandered into the little church, very plain, big sign at the entrance "please take off your spikes"! A Sami choir practice was taking place, so we spent a fabulous 30 minutes or so, absorbed as much by their costumes as their beautiful voices!
Turn-around time here, and we're on our way back, calling at some different ports, other same ports but different times. Big day tomorrow, with a land trip out to NordKap starting at 0500 and finishing with a midnight concert in the Arctic Cathedral in Tromso - maybe a granny nap sometime during the day?
We have turned around, and are now on our homeward journey - interesting how different things are in just a few days. More snow on the mountains, the weather is greyer, snow falling often - first time I've ever been in a snowstorm at sea! We debated long and hard about doing the trip both ways, but it is very good to do so, as you are able to see different places at different times.
Day 8 - aborted trip to North Cape: such a disappointment, as this should have been one of the highlights of the trip, but was not to be. We were up for the 5am Cafe & kjek (a hard ships biscuit-type affair), docked at Honnigsvag by 0530, in the bus by 0531 - they run tight schedules, these ships and only had a 15 minute stop here. The bus trundled out with a delightful guide introducing himself, only to turn around 3 miles up the road as the pass to North Cape was closed in! Then the fun started: the Hurtigruten had left, and was only due to pick us up some hours later in the next major stop. Frantic phone calls to Egbert The tour leader to get her to return, otherwise the bus would have to drive us to the collection point at Havoysund, something he was obviously not planning but which we were quite keen on! However he caught them early enough and we had the strange experience of watching her turn around mid-channel and come back to fetch us. The loading ramp was dropped almost before they tied up, so we were shepherded back aboard, too early for breakfast but too late for an extra lie in. Oh well, that's what happens.
The day passed sitting mostly in the Panorama Lounge, in a blur of short stops in cold blustery little places, each time either dropping off or collecting cargo and the very occasional passenger, interrupted by "Information sessions". Today's was entitled Meet the Crew, so we went along - only to be handed a stick, a short piece of cord and a piece of paper detailing how to tie a reef knot, a round turn & two half hitches, and a rolling hitch. Obviously not used to sailors aboard this cruise, the information sessions generally have been poor: inane questions asked off an obvious script, equally inane answers given. Could do with some serious work on this part of the programme.
There have been some good ones though, and today's was a brief explanation of the Battle of the Trollfjord, according to Egbert our tour leader, one of the most significant battles in the world! The Trollfjord ihas an extremely narrow entrance, opening up into a large protected basin rich in fish, where the locals came up annually catch cod etc. As the wooden fishing boats were beginning to have to give way to more modern larger steam ones, an enterprising steam captain parked his fishing smack across the entrance, charging locals to enter. This caused an uproar, but started a trend which Egbert says was the forerunner of the fishing quota systems, the bane of so many fishing communities. Interesting.
However the aft deck sessions have been generally excellent: as well as the nefarious ice cubes down the back as ritual for crossing the Arctic Circle, we have had a fisherman come aboard to talk about the salting of cod (makes it as hard as wood and last forever), and give a demonstration of cutting out the delicacies of cod's tongue and cheeks - John got very into this, to say the least.
The other generally good sessions have been the Chef de Cuisine ones: I anticipated these would be "how to" sessions, but were really just opportunities to grab a little snack mid-afternoon! The cod flakes were a bit gross, looked like potato crisps but tasted like very fishy flakes. But a hefty helping of mussels the other day, a good cupful of shrimps today.
And there is this great barman, Jose - originally from Malaga, but has spent the last 30+ years in Norway. Great sense of humour, really nice guy. Is amused by the fact that we (a changing group of about 6-8 of us) always sit at the smallest table for 2 for after dinner coffee. So now he puts a reserved sign up for us!
The day ended on a high note after a disappointing start however. A trip to the Arctic Cathedral as we arrived in Tromso, for an excellent concert: a flautist, a piano/organist and a fabulous baritone, giving us a combination of Norwegian folk songs and light classics, really very good.
To make up for yesterday's expedition being cancelled, we did two today!
Harstad to Sortland - a bus trip through the most stunning alpine scenery in the part called Vesterålen, along narrow little roads which had to have laybyes every so often to let vehicles pass. We started off with a visit to Trondnes Church, beautiful site on the cliff overlooking the bay. The bells were ringing as we arrived, in a separate belfry as the architects were concerned the movement would disturb the original wooden walls and fall on the congregants! Now a beautiful stone church, with walls some 5' thick, and we were invited to join in a special service to "greet the morn" - couple of prayers, we all sang a hymn in a multitude of languages, a quick Bible reading, and then we all wandered over to the museum next door. Much of old Viking artefacts and history and description of the old way of life, very good.
We passed one fairly flat section, where a local farmer has made millions out of strawberry tunnels - Strawberry fields forever ! He brings in seasonal workers, many Poles who come for 2-3 years before returning home with enough money to build own houses - different scale of economies!
We criss-crossed several bridges across several small lakes, with the water getting less salty as it got further away from the sea. Mussels abounded under one bridge, where tide comes in and mixes salt with fresh streams - if I'd had a bucket I'd have been down picking them!
Many of the little villages have salmon farms, a source of potential wealth but also huge problems, as the salmon become infested with salmon lice requiring harsh chemical and antibiotic treatments. What do we eat??
Until the fairly recent oil discoveries, the Norwegians generally were very poor: Egbert informs us that only Ireland had more emigrants than Norway! Only 2 generations ago a father would go off fishing for many months, leaving his wife with maybe 7/8 kids, 2 cows, 5 sheep to cope with over the hard winter. Not an easy life.
We trundled up and down the Troll Berge and our guide had umpteen troll stories to tell - most of them were in German however so I didn't catch them. He kept telling us about some troll who had been turned to stone, with his goat, an pointing it out, but I could never work out which of the umpteen peaks around us he was talking about! It was a tad irritating: he would tell a long story in German, every German on the bus would roar with laughter, then he'd tell the story again in English in half the time but obviously sans the punchline as they were never funny - or is that just the difference in humour?
He did make us laugh though when he told us of going ice fishing as a young boy- religiously drilled a hole in the ice, dropped in his line and hooked a big one - but the hole he had drilled was too small to pull 10kg cod out!
We arrived in Stamsund to find the ship had not. Consternation(!), as the bus had to turn around smartly and get us off so he could catch the return ferry! But 15 minutes late she arrived and we were aboard just in time for lunch.
This afternoon's aft deck session was how to carve up a huge cod for sushi - great fun, and once again very interesting. Although this time John didn't do any carving or kissing of the cod!
We spent about 90 minutes travelling through the most beautiful sound, the Raftsundet: high walls, lots of ice and snow, stunning environment. As the blurb given out each day by the tour leader Egbert says: "the most beautiful part of the world's most beautiful sea voyage" and for once I'd probably agree with his hyperbole!
1830 and we were in Svolvaer but instead of the bus leaving at one minute past docking time, we were given an extension of 15 minutes to finish our dinner! Another great bus ride through the countryside, this time through the Lofoten Islands. Dozens, if not hundreds of little islands, very different scenery from this morning, much rockier coastline, more little chunks of islands in the inlets, more farming and even more fishing!
We seemed to pass acres of drying cod, huge fields of cod heads drying to send to Africa, mainly Nigeria, and sky high A-frame racks loaded with cod bodies. The first two weeks these are covered with nets to stop the seagulls, but then they become so dry not even the seagulls are interested! But apparently the Nigerians buy the heads by the ship full, and the Portuguese national dish is a soup made from salted cod from Norway - who'd have guessed?
We stopped at a delightful little fishing village with a very sheltered harbour - I could see John planning where to lay up the next boat for the winter season! Quick walk around (a photo stop, as the guide called it) and we were back in the bus again, off over another bridge, down another unbelievably narrow road. The snow has all but vanished except of the high hills now, and there are clumps of green pine every now and then. But the strangest of all is the grass in the fields - at first I thought it was smal lichen covered boulders, but a stop to feel determined it was just clumps of grass, bent over with the weight of the winter snow into little brown balls all over the field. Very peculiar.
By two-thirds of the way through however we decided two tours in one day was one too many: John was nodding off, I was getting irritated with the big British army type complaining about everything, and we were both cold. One of the problems with a bus tour is you're forever putting on/taking off clothes - too hot in the bus, too cold outside!
Delighted to see the MS Vesterålen docked alongside in Stamsund when we returned, we were in our bunks within minutes!
Tomorrow's another day.
I took a "quiet" day today, staying aboard to read and relax on the couple of occasions the ship docked long enough to go ashore - two 15 minute sessions in Ornes and Nesna, a 30 minute session in Sandnessjen (just time to see the famed "fat" priest Petter Dass's statue). There was a longer stop in both Bronnoysund (where Egbert led a walk) and Rorvik, but it was so nice to just chill on an empty ship!
There were several special events today however: we crossed the Arctic Circle again, this time with a very special ceremony. Called to the open aft deck once again, we all lined up - for a teaspoon of the famed. Cod liver oil, the reason for every Norwegian's food health apparently! I surmise the actual reason however is the tot of aquavit they gave us to take the taste away - although I doubt the kids were given this treat! All good fun, and they gave us each a lovely spoon memento, engraved with the lat/long and date. Nice touch.
Egbert gave us an excellent lecture later, giving us some book suggestions. I just wish he'd done this earlier in the trip, as it would have been great to read them along the way!
Petter Dass (1647-1707) was a vicar, rather larger than life in more ways than one, a poet and accomplished author who travelled the length and breadth of the country. Trumpet of the North is his greatest work.
Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906) well known for Peer Gynt but really unknown in Norway until Dolls House caused a revolution with its affirmation of a woman's right to be her own person - this was an almost unknown thought in the Norway of the day.
The list went on, too many to elaborate on: Knut Hamsun, Nobel Prize winner in 1920 but who by his death in 1952 was shunned by many as a Nazi collaborator: Karen Blixen whose story Babette's Feast was set in Berleveg, a small village we had visited: George Simenon, author of the Inspector Maigret series (now on Brit TV with Rowan Atkinson (Mr Bean) as the star!) who also wrote The Mystery of the Polarlys: John Steinbeck - whose novel The Moon is Down is about Norvik. I was ordering them on Amazon as he spoke - much to look forward to when we get home.
We made an afternoon detour to see the hole in the Torghatten mountains - a natural phenomenon explained away by a long and complicated story of a beautiful young woman, a handsome young man, an angry troll shooting an arrow to stop them escaping ... etc etc!
Dinner that night was a special event: the Farewell Dinner, as many of the passengers will be leaving tomorrow in Trondheim. Attended by all the Captain, Flag Officers and crew in full dress uniform, we were given a glass of wine to raise a toast of thanks, before sitting down to another well prepared meal. Richard and Pat ordered a bottle of wine for the four of us, so we were all pretty merry by the time we got up from dinner! Merry enough for John to call for the microphone and make a short thank you speech to the crew and staff for their part in a great voyage - very nice and much appreciated by Captain and crew, I thought!
It's been a strange day today: we had to have an early breakfast as we were docking in Trondheim early and had a bus trip around the city booked - and also wanted to be up in time to say goodbye to Richard and Pat, Aussies from near Perth that we have got very friendly with over the past 10 days. They left us in Trondheim, to go on to Oslo and Copenhagen by train, then London and finally home. Still, like all good friendships, we will meet again!
The bus trip was one we could have skipped actually, but you only know that in retrospect. Fairly uninteresting trundle around town with one photostop at the top of a hill facing into the morning sun, then a 30 minute tour around the Nidaros Cathedral which we had already done last time we were here. Still, it was good to see the university where Wolfgang Schilling taught (Wolfgang & Gabi, sailed together in Newfoundland), and the old wooden houses beautifully preserved up in the expensive part of town!
Back aboard, and Egbert gave us a talk on the law of Jante: strong Scandinavian characteristic underlying all they are, embodying the 10 laws of Jante which basically insist on what I would call the Tall Poppy syndrome - don't stick your head up above the others, remain one with your peer group. Not something I've ever ascribed to, I have to confess!! He went on to say that Paula Coehlo's book The Alchemist had an enormous impact especially in Norway, as this basically told people to ignore what others said and to stand up for yourself - ignored by most Norwegian men, but changed many Norwegian women's lives!
The afternoon was a lovely slow ride along the coast, interrupted by a "short talk on navigation" which John was interested in until he found out it cost 580kr and realised he probably knew far more than the audience anyway! But we did have a special treat, taken up to the bridge for a personal visit to that holy of holies. John was like a pig in mud, asking all sorts of highly intelligent questions that had my eyes glazing over and startled the young helmsman on duty!
The ship population has thinned out quite dramatically since Trondheim, and another batch left to do the Atlantic Road bus tour from Kristiansund, so we are down to one sitting tonight, 7pm. Then it's "Chef Surprise" at 21.30, and a 40 minute walk in Alesund at 00.05 - not sure I'll make that one.
The end of the trip was the cherry on top of everything! The highlight of a quiet last day was a short visit to the bridge to "play Captain" - only the First Mate was on duty, and Egbert did all the explanations and answered all the questions, but John loved his time to play with the Big Boy's Toys!
All too soon it was time to dock back in Bergen, and Jan Isaksen was there to greet us warmly. So good to see him again - last time was a year ago, at the beginning of the Arctic Rally he ran from Bergen to Lofoten - prior to that was in South Africa as they were completing their circumnavigation! Back to his and Eli's house, a beer and a BBQ, and lots of good conversation and catching up.
Then Saturday we took his beautiful one-off Hoek design yacht out for a spin - weather slightly gloomy but that didn't dampen any enthusiasm from John! All I heard was "it's so good to be on a proper boat again! It's so good to be on a big boat!" I know where this is going, and it certainly isn't towards buying a small 27' Pocock-design boat called Twilight!
The weather improved, the sail covers came off, and we sailed home in great style - what a brilliant end to a lovely fortnight! Back to committee tensions and aggro, a flying trip to Ireland, the last minute chaos of getting ready to close Tring up for 8 months, a trip by road to Scotland for an OCC do - and then over to South Africa again end of May.
It was an excellent holiday!
Wow - long time since we updated this site - and so much to add it will take a month to do so!! This just serves to advise that I will be updating, hopefully this wee, with some of the exciting adventures of the past year or so. Watch this space!
So what's happened in our somewhat hectic lives since getting off the boat in Norway? Well, lots - I'll need to break it down into chucks, but probably easiest to start with the most recent first! So here goes:
June 2018 was spent in Horta, the Azores - mid-ocean, the meeting place of all Atlantic cruisers. John and I ran an OCC Rally, 46 boats congregating from all over the Atlantic, with the aim of joining in the centenary of Peter Cafe Sport, a huge event in this area! The OCC and Peter Cafe Sport have been long-time associates, and it was a privilege and pleasure to be a part of the celebrations.
46 boats, including King Bee from Japan, Embellie V, Trevi, Isode and Bohanig from France, Intrepidous, Gregal Cuarto and Cabaillito from Portugal and the Canaries, as well as all the usual mix of US and U.K. boats - a truly I ternational mix! Some 186 people at the first two events, reducing slightly as the week ran on, culminating in a glorious prize-giving in the splendid Amor Da Patria on Friday night.
During the week we had beautiful walks through the hills above Horta, exhilarating bike rides down the zigzag roads of the caldera, whale-watching which experience stunning wildlife shows, bus tours and hikes up Pico VolcNo: the Azorean authorities were unbelievably gracious hosts and offered us amazing hospitality.
All in all, a wonderful event. Hope you enjoy the photos!
I am back in the UK for a few months, while John has taken Al Shaheen on his last major trip with her - oh I didn't say did I? Some months back, the new owners of Al Shaheen asked him to sail Plymouth to Azores, the back to Gibraltar, Sardinia and Greece! So, a final swan song for him, some 4000nm before he hangs those sea boots up completely. But have no fear, that's not the end of his sailing - watch this space for future developments as he begins his next project, building a 30' planing keelboat - in South Africa, 600kms from the nearest ocean!
So, excitement abounds! John and I flew out of Heathrow on Monday. Bound for Boston, where Don and D Wogaman picked us up and within hours we were aboard Southern Cross, a beautiful 41' Dickerson almost completely restored by Don. That was after meeting with Al Hickey for a quick dinner, our Port Officerin Portland, who had very kindly leant Don & D their house and mooring while D had to make medical calls in Boston - generosity of the first degree. We settled into the v-berth in the forepeak (the Dickerson is a centre cockpit, with an aft cabin and a fore cabin), and after some brief catching up, passed out - TransAtlantic flights do that to you!
Tuesday morning, after a great D breakfast, it was provisioning time - a trip to Hunnafords to fill the lockers and bilges with food and drink, and we were ready to take off - for Cliff Island, to buy lobsters from Pam the lobsterman. The instructions were to be there by 4.30pm, tie up to the mooring buoy or the dock. Well, we were there, no mooring buoys but lots of lobster boats and little skiffs, a crowded anchorage, getting shallower by the moment as we crept in to this cup-de-sac! A call to Pam, she was very busy serving customers at the house but said her husband would row out to us. Well, we frootled around somewhat nervously, just skimming the shallows, and finally a little old rowboat came trundling out -Norm was 90 if he was a day, rowing with great difficulty because he "had a bad back" and finding it very difficult to get to us with the wind against him! We were finding it equally difficult either not to run aground, hit another boat or run him over! With much difficulty we eventually managed to pick up his painter, at which time he promptly stood up in the is little boat and almost fell in!! Transaction finally complete, with relief we waved him goodbye, watched him chug back shorewards,and wound our way out to Jewell Island to anchor for the night. 4 huge lobsters for $25! It was a hoot just getting them cooked, never mind the eating of! D cooked corn in a skillet, no water, very slowly, so they seemed to "braise" - absolutely delicious. D and I had sunset rum cocktails - that plus wine with the lobsters meant an early night for us all!
Wednesday morning was an early rise, muesli and coffee on the run. Off to Christmas Cove, en route to Camden and the OCC Rally on Sunday. No wind: it built slightly throughout the day but was always dead on the nose, so no sailing today. Beautiful sunny day though, much pleasant conversation, and after several attempts by D we managed to book a mooring in Christmas Cove for the night - very full little harbour, only mooring buoys, in no particularly obvious order so we rode around the area for quite a few minutes before someone on a motor boat pointed out No 1, our designated spot for the night.
My goodness though, the biting flies are out! Gets to the point where each of us is sitting fly swat in hand - and still they get through and take a chunk of blood and a nasty bite. Early enough in the mooring for John to make curry for tomorrow - interesting substitution of some ingredients! The guide said there was both a launch service and showers: well it turned out there was no launch service and the minimal reception from the marine probably ruled out showers too, so we never launched the dinghy, simply stayedaboard for a lamb grill dinner - delicious!
D is in the process of dealing with a very recent double mastectomy, so is under pain killers etc and waiting for news of whether she will need chemo and/or radiation. She is immensely strong about it all, not allowing it to overwhelm her and turn into a pity party, but also accepting the fact that there are things she cannot at the moment do. So in a funny way, our being here this week has been a blessing in disguise - we're able to act not as carers but as interesting diversions to keep her mind off things.
Thursday was another early rise, easy as there was no anchor to haul, but frustrating in that the fog had rolled in overnight. Still, no peace for the wicked as we need to move on, so we motored out with all systems go to brace the elements - what's Maine without fog! Or biting flies!!! Don has an interesting navigation system - on the dodger frame he has a series of clamps, each one holding another gadget: his iPad which carries the navigation systems, a smaller iPad which has a radar set-up, while another Garmin gives all the usual navigational info. Very good, as it can be changed from side to side as the sun or weather dictates. The fog burnt off intermittently: we put the genoa up at one stage to see if we could stop the excessive rolling, but eventually decided it wasn't worthit, so back to motoring. It's definitely been a motoring year this year! But still the flies are here - fog doesn't deter them! I think they're roosting in the little open cockpit lockers, waiting for daylight to come out in their hordes and attack. Doesn't seem to matter how many you kill, there are always dozens more.
Into Tennents Habor, off to port and into Long Cove to anchor is a lovely sheltered spot and very few boats! There is a lobster facility at the end of the cove, probably about 15 small lobster boats moored there, but other than that, very quiet. Lovely relaxed afternoon - and D got the news that her onco scores show she does not need either chemotherapy or radiation! Excellent news!! Celebrated with Downton Abbey scones and raspberry jam - what a treat! John's chicken curry for dinner - another treat. Slight change of ingredients, but the adaptation was good.
Friday - slow start to the day, as we don't have far to go. Fun getting the anchor up as John and I did it under supervision from Don while D handled the helm - always interesting when folk do different chores from normal! Cute little biker earphones that they use for bow/stern communications didn't work on John as one battery was flat - but they are excellent, should get some! Drifter up, very nice spinnaker style sail in brilliant red with yellow stars for the Southern Cross - very elegant. Drifted along for a while at 4 knots, then put the main up just as some wind came in and were suddenly cranking along at 6.2!
En route to Pulpit Harbour to pick up mooring from Al & Maggie, will meet them tomorrow for the Northaven festival day and dinner at their house - they have been fantastic, letting Don & D stay on their mooring and in their house near Portland while D has been hospital-hopping and immediately post-op. Great POs, great people - worthy of a PO Award. Also fun to be able to organise things! That makes several arranged from afar - mooring for Southern Cross both in Portland and Pulpit Harbour, a lift for friend to Camden from Rockland with Peter & Peggy McCrea, plus big new OCC burgee for This Side of the Pond Rally use! This flag will now stay this side, in the Stricklands care, and be "drug out" for various OCC rallies Stateside. Chance crossing with Equinox, Dick & Moira, organisers of the Rally were sailing to! Quick chat on vhf, they have grandkids aboard, off to High Island to explore. Friends of Don & D, potential OCCers, may meet us in Pulpit tonight or tomorrow: listening to Cruiseheimers again every day brings back many many memories of great socialising along this coast! Wind suddenly died, all the boats absolutely dead in the water after a great couple hours sail with drifter and main up. So the engine is on again, and we're tootling along aimed for Pulpit Harbour.
Well, it's Maine, so there has to be fog! Monday: Barb of Camden Yacht Club came back on her day off to pick John up in the launch, and then run him to catch the bus to Logan Airport to catch the plane back to UK and on to South Africa - what a great service!
We left Camden after a great event, and motored up to Stockton Harbor in fairly thick fog, just catching glimpses of the shore along the way-but not enough lobster pots to worry about so that was good! It cleared as we turned into Stockton, a most delightful harbour, a real undiscovered gem, as the yacht club manager told us. Large harbour to anchor in, several moorings, and a small dock. We had reserved a dock space, and landed up tied up alongside Ruth and Herb Weiss, the Ancient Mariners. What a hoot! They came aboard for an hour or so, and kept us thoroughly entertained before we all realised Happy Hour was about to start and we needed to get moving. Herb turns 100 this week, but his "much younger" wife is only 92 - unbelievable both of them. Someone said Ruth is an energiser bunny, and she sure is! She was off their little trawler, taking our lines ashore and tying us up before any of us younger folks could get to it! Herb spent much of the visit telling us about his time as group leader of a team at MIT during and post WWII, fascinating stories about his team's involvement in the original air collision prevention gadgetry, then sonar development in U.K., then finding a way to stop the A-bombs wiggling in the air as they were dropped - fortunately he says, they didn't have to drop in anger any of the ones he sorted out as Hiroshima had already taken place!
All too soon it was time to go ashore for drinks and snacks at the Stockton H arbor Yacht Club - built by the developer who had built a series of 48 condos on the shore front. Lovely club, but it stood empty for some reason until the current owners bought it and are now running it - 80 club members only, guess they need some social members to boost the numbers. But a great harbour, and the island at the entrance is completely uninhabited and has lots of trails. At this event, I welcomed Herb and Ruth as our newest, but certainly oldest, Port Officers!! Tuesday: Next day was a huge trek - a whole 7 miles across the bay to Castine! We anchored in Smith Cove after some footling around, while the rest of the fleet all anchored on the opposite side. Remembering from the past what a long dinghy ride it is across to Castine, and we were fortunate to get a lift from Tom and Denise on Epiphany - delightful couple. A good lunch at The Wharf, where I had a great time chatting with Todd Engelskirchen - who used to spend time at Critchley Hackle, Dullstroom, South Africa, where Garth & Caren worked! Small world! Then it was time for the crowd to all go off on a historical walking tour of Castine, while I scrambled over to the Castine Yacht Club to use their wifi to do a voip meeting of the Membership Committee - participants from Norway , France, Ireland, Wales, England and Maine - what an amazing world we live in!
Wednesday: we woke to thick fog this morning, and the 8am radio net was fairly suggestive that we all hang around to see what was going to happen before taking off. The 10am net confirmed that most people would rather stay - Epiphany have left as work calls, when the sun came out the Ancient Mariners left to make their way to Belfast, and I think John & Wendy Richards have left, but everyone else is taking a lay day. So instead of a dinghy raft-up in Seal Bay, we will do a raft-up in Smith Cover or a gathering on the beach - but if the Mosquitos chase us, probably meet aboard Grayce for snacks and drinks. D is cooking up meatballs, smell fabulous! The sun has just come out, the fog has lifted, but there is thunder rolling i the background somewhere. Another beautiful day in paradise.
Last day of the mini rally saw us motoring once again, although we did put the beautiful red drifter up for fun, this time down the west coast of Islesboro and turn in through Bracketts Channel to slide up past Islesboro again and anchor in Cradle Cove - a delightful anchorage that can hold a lot of boats! About 8 very large boats arrived from New York Yacht Club, obviously also coming for a party somewhere, adding to the excitement. We dinghied across for a pot luck dinner at Pam McBrayne and Denis Moonan's little island, a 7 acre spot of mosquito-infested pine forest covered land in the middle of the anchorage. 7 acres at low water, far larger at high! They have been building a small cottage for some 8 years, and it is still a work in progress, but we got a great welcome and had a great time terrific las t meeting for the Rally.
So that's it: by 10.30 this morning (Friday) most of the boats have left the anchorage, and we are just trying to decide how to spend the next couple days before I need to be in Rockland to catch the bus to Logan Boston to fly out to Vancouver. More later!
Another day, another world!
I flew out of Rockland ME after some fabulous weeks sailing aboard Southern Cross in Maine, into Vancouver BC to be met by James and Toni (Alex and Tyler were out partying until very very late!). The plan is to spend two weeks visiting them in North Vancouver, see the boys of to uni in Toronto, then the 3 of us (James, Toni and myself) will join Liza and Andy Copeland aboard Bagheera for the BC Rally. Won't see South Africa for a while yet!
So, Tuesday was spent catching up with three weeks of emails and OCC work, and preparing for the Board meeting on Wednesday. A short meeting this time, only really one topic and that was to replace Peter Paternotte, previous VC, as Cruising Chair. As the only hat in the ring, I was selected, so walked away from the meeting with a lot more on my plate! Oh well, my grandmother always used to say, if you wanted something done, give the job to the busiest person in the room!
Friday very early we set off for Lake Osoyoos, where J& T have a cabin. What should have been a beautiful drive up through the Okanagan Mountains turned out to be a tug of smoke - some 530+ wild fires are burning throughout the area, and the smoke hangs like a pall over everything from the coast to some 450km inland. Dreadful!
Roxy spent the drive on my lap, trying to stick her nose out the window and getting blasted back every time she accidentally opened it with her paw on the button! But at least she didn't throw up, which James had assured me she probably would. To say I was glad about that was putting it mildly!
I had forgotten that their cabin is in the USA, which meant a trek back out of Canada and into USA again - Toni very nervous that my electronic visas wouldn't work - but they did! A quick stop at the Taco Shack for lunch and to give Roxy a run around, then it was time to offload at Orso Beach for the weekend.
Nice little cabin, one bedroom, shower/toilet, good kitchen and living room - what we would call a park home, on stands above the ground. The plans are to extend this to build two more small bedrooms and a living room, turning the existing one into a dining room, and have a large patio deck in front. It is waterside, so would normally have a lovely view of the lake - pity about the smoke.
We'll be here Sat and Sunday, the boys (including the biggest boy of them all, James) are wanting to put their little motor boat and tube in the wate, but there was a lot of wind today and it was quite unpleasant on the water. So tomorrow's another day!
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