Over the half-way line

An alternative title could have been "Wheatley Boy falls lucky in Lusaka" but more of that shortly.

I sometimes think they made Africa a bit on the wide side. I'm sure Fran Sandham (read his "Traversa"), who walked the route thought so.  It's all the Rift Valley's fault, I suspect. (Good pun, eh?). No matter though, a couple of days ago, 3 in fact, I cycled over the impressive Luangwa River on the equally impressive 1968 Luangwa Suspension Bridge, shook hands with the police guard on the west side and had my picture taken with same, punched the air in my imagination, - too tired in reality - , and cycled into the little town round the corner for a good night's sleep in the Council Rest House : grim but friendly enough. The Luanga - atlases out please - is about the size of the Thames at London and flows due south into the Zambesi  about 60 miles below the bridge.. It looks rather lazy and peaceful as it makes its way through high, silent wooded hills. "Mountains" the locals call them. It'd make a great boat trip, with Mozambique on one bank and Zambia on the other. Must speak to the tourist board.....

I would have preferred - Fran as well maybe - to go directly across the continent, instead of at an angle, and in doing so, cut off approx 1000 kms. That would have involved  going through the D.R.C. (The Congo) and a big tunnel of tropical rain forest. But politics got in the way. Until the early 60s, I gather, it was quite possible. Adventurous tourists would use the Belgium built roads, railways and river boats ( I doubt they did much of the donkey work) to discover the country. Imagine the scene today though.You arrive at a few remnants of tarmac, formerly a road. "Excuse me, Sir, I am the sub-prefect responsible for this stretch of the B156. With the power invested in me by the President and this AK37 I am obliged to tax you $1000 for the use of this amenity..." only in French..."alternatively I am permitted to take your hat, shoes and bicycle wheels in lieu. Safe journey, Monsieur. My colleague will be waiting at the next tree where my jurisdiction ends." No thanks but what a shame.

The diagonal but longer route, and the three countries so far, have had none of that kind of lawless horror. Quite the opposite, people have gone out of their way to make me welcome, even the police at their frequent "road blocks",ever since I left Dar es Salaam nearly 2500 kms ago. Yesterday was a case in point. Just before sun-set at 6 pm, I finished my most challenging day to date: 113 undulating kms over lumpy tarmac to the town of Chongwe. I  called on the first tidy-looking guest house and took a room. Within an hour Mr Wynegood Malunga, the charming owner, had arranged for me to stay at his brother's house in Lusaka where I arrived today. Brother Andrew picked me up from the end of The Great Eastern Road, brought me to his home, made me most welcome, then dropped me off here at the local Internet Cafe. Now how kind is that? I plan to have a couple of nights here then to make my way at a steady roll to Livingstone and Vic Falls.

Wynegood is also a blogger. He describes his blog as being " political and satirical ". Having met him I imagine it's worth dipping into...(wynestuff.blogspot.com)

The Ride Since Lilongwe  

It's been about 700 kms since the Malwian capital and it's taken 9 days. I could not have managed that a month ago but I'm pedaling better now.

The morning out of Lilongwe reminded me of the Irish blessing: "May the road rise before you, May the wind be always at your back, May the rain fall softly on your fields, And till we meet again, May the lord hold you in the palm of his hand." (sic). That day I did 111km before mid-afternoon, when I arrived at The Kayesa Inn, a splendid guesthouse in a beautiful garden, run by Jimmy Enderson and his mother. The road was mostly down-hill on smooth tarmac, with a following wind. It didn't rain and I didn't have a religious conversion but everything fell into place. I left without breakfast around 5.30 am but just as I started to feel hungry I spotted an unassuming place in a small town with Bakery and Tea Room scrawled across it. Inside a small steamy room, it was like a scene from Road to Wigan Pier. There were perhaps 20 men and women sitting drinking tea and dunking bread buns. I was made welcome on a remaining seat right in the middle and had a tramps breakfast of bread, marg and hot sweet tea. I had to explain the purpose of my visit, of course, but after that they left me in peace, as if I called every morning.  Other stops at banana stalls and soft-drink cafes - I've taken to Pepsi and Coke - were equally amiable.

The next day was a short hop of 33km over some hills and over the border to Chipata in Zambia. As I pulled into town around midday I spotted the name of the road where friends John and Christine Priestley lived and took a photo of what I think was their house, hoping no one spotted me and asked me what I was poking my camera through their gate for.. I found a place to stay and went into town for a new SIM card, a new book and some Zambian Kwatchas. I coolly withdrew 2,500,000 of the latter.. The Zambian Kwatcha is a bit like the Italian Lira used to be i.e. of small value. There are 8000 to the pound and as I could not be sure of another ATM before Lusaka, 550 km away, I loaded up. You need a head for noughts in Zambia.

For the next day, an 80 km ride to Katete, here is a diary extract..."The road is slightly undulating but without any serious hills. The road surface is v lumpy though, with annoying rolling resistance. It seems they've re-tarred and chipped it with large chippings and then forgotten to roll it, a bit like they used to do round Halifax in the 50s and 60s. It's the worst since Dar. The road is quiet though and the scenery pleasant; scrubby and a bit arid with clusters of conical hills. Around 8 am I stop in a village - there aren't many and I buy bread buns, toms and bananas. I'm carrying pea-nut butter. I leave the bread in the shop while chatting to the grocer but 5 or 10 minutes later he runs down the road to where I'm buying toms and bananas. A mile or so later I find some rocks and enjoy breakfast in the sunshine. Lunch is identical, only on a log under a tree by the road side. My Swiss knife is getting unhygienic When I'm having breakfast, a teenage lad introduces himself. He's Robert Phieri. He's from Katete and he says he's the son of the chief Bongome, the chief of the Katate area. He's a v nice lad and is studying at boarding school near where I'm having breakfast. Like most youngsters he wants to visit the UK and go to uni. His best subject is biology."   Robert has rung me several times since to check on my progress..

The next day is another long day to Petauke. Here I fall out with the (non) management of a rather overpriced lodge. Accommodation is significantly dearer in Zambia. I create a Faulty Towers scene in reception when there is no light or hot water (as promised). "No. You listen to me..." etc. Sometimes you just have to react for the sake of the Zambian tourist industry! The next morning it's pitch dark in my room again. The hotel generator has run out of juice. "I've stayed in 100s of hotels and this is the worst, most overpriced  blah, blah, blah," The annoying thing is you have to pay for accommodation on arrival.

The best section of this long stretch is in the middle either side of the Luangwa River. It's quite mountainous, well wooded and utterly silent. The only noises between rare vehicles are the birds and the sound of charcoal burners hacking at the trees. I get chatting to a bunch of ragged looking burners who speak fluent if heavily accented English. One of their large bags of charcoal, about enough to 2/3 fill a wheely bin, fetches about 20,000 Kwatcha, less than 3 pounds.

Must get my hair cut. To be continued...