Rundu to Grootfontein

I left Rundu just as it was getting light around 6 am, rode up the chilly high street then turned right on the B8 to Grootfontein. "Grootfontein 254 kms " said the sign. The road is flat, smooth and monotonously straight, perfect for max kms. I reckoned I could do the distance in 2 days. On my map, as good as any map I've seen, there is very little detail, just a long straight road with one settlement marked, which is Mururani Gate, at the border between Kavango Province and Otjozondjupa Province. I'd been told there was a shop and somewhere to sleep , which turned out to be true.

It was my lucky day, 2 days in fact, as the wind blew in gusts right at my back for most of the 2 days. Travelling the other way would have meant at least 3 days pedaling. Long may it blow, as my route is SW for the remaining 600 kms. My first stop was about 10 kms out of Rundu at a police road block. There have been lots, mostly to check the paperwork and condition of people in cars and HGVs. This was my first in Namibia though.  Zut alors! I thought, thinking back about a week to the police chappy in Katima who had told me to get a cycle helmet, as they are compulsary in Namibia. This policeman held up his hand and invited me into his tent. "Do you want to see my passport, Sir?" I said putting on my Mr Bean face. He did, but only out of idle curiosity, before giving me a longish lecture on the necessity and safety of helmets. He was only about a third my age and still keen on his work. As an ex-teacher I'm familiar with the concept of the severe letting off so I knew the formalities. I'm not as familiar with the contrite role but I managed and promised faithfully to buy a helmet in Grootfontein. " You might not be so lucky with my colleague at Mururani Gate" he said.  Something to look forward to. I refrained from the usual smirking and hooting as I left the tent.

The rest of the day flew by thanks to the tail wind. There were many villages despite the apparent emptiness of the map. The locals mostly herd goats and very handsome cattle with fine, long horns. I had one stop for a Coke at one of the many road-side bottle shops. There I was befriended by a group of teenagers who brought me a plastic chair to sit on (most welcome) and asked me why I was riding around on a bike. It's hard to explain. I usually say something along the lines of..."I'm 63 and it's my first time in Africa. I wanted to come here before I got too old. In a car I would not have met you; I'd have just wizzed by. It's been a great adventure. In Europe we are relatively well-off and comfortable and sometimes get bored. So we need a challenge. All the way people have been friendly and helpful; I'm having a great time." That usually keeps them happy and it's all more or less true.

So, instead of struggling into the huddle of buildings that is Mururani Gate, I sailed in around mid-afternoon. The policeman there didn't give a fig for my lack of helmet: he just wanted to know what I was doing riding around on a bicycle. "I'm 63 and it's my first time etc.....".

There is a lovely little campsite which belongs to the white couple who own the shop. There is a little swimming pool and a couple of chalets which they are living in while a bigger home is being built. They hope to be in for Christmas then they'll rent out the chalets to tourists. They are also farmers.The shop sells burgers, beer and other basics, so I had a decent evening meal and night-cap. They have a son and 3 dogs, one large mutt and 2 Jack Russells. I sat up reading and writing and drinking by torchlight till about 8 pm then went to bed . One of the Jack Russells  came to check on me every couple of hours during the night. It wormed its way under the fly-sheet then came to the fly-screen of the inner tent, stuck its pointy little face into that, saw me but couldn't understand why it couldn't get any further. What a sweety!

Yesterday, the remaining 120kms or so, was slightly tougher. The morning kms flew by but by the afternoon the road surface got rougher and there was a slight uphill gradient. In the morning I stopped to take a layer of clothes off about 9am. A 4 by 4 came down a side road from one of the white-owned cattle ranches. "Everything OK?" he asked winding the window down. He was a powerful, blond haired bloke with a beard and busting out of his clothes. We talked for a bit and in the end he came out with the usual: "You are a braver man me. "   I told him I'd met with nothing but friendliness all the way and never felt threatened. The perception of danger is interesting. I blame the media.  We finished with a hand-shake. My metacarpals  are still rearranging themselves. I prefer the black African hand-shake which is much gentler and I've now got the hang of. It's a normal handshake, followed by a thumbs handshake and finishing with another normal handshake. If they like you, they then hang onto you....   

So I was approaching "the wall" when I got to Grootfontein. It's a nice place on a low hill overlooking a vast plain. There is an old German fort here dating back to 1895 and now a good museum where I spent a couple of hours this morning. The town reminds me of some of the sleepy, little rural towns in Australia. From the 60s to the early 90s though, when Namibia was still a part of South Africa, the town was an important military base with 200,000 troops based here according to the internet cafe owner.

Ulli, a white German speaker who is a volunteer at the splendid museum, also gave me some insights into life here, past and present. Her grandfather came here in the 20s and set up shops, moving further inland by ox-cart.

Then at lunchtime in the supermarket, when I asked a trio on the next table if they came from Grootfontein, they said, "No. We are the people you spoke to a week ago in the game park". And so they were.  Hans-Martin, Mechthild and Kristina from Frankfurt are on holiday here, not for the first time. Unfortunately they bumped into a cow recently and are having to get the damage fixed in Grootfontein.

So, just 600 kms to go and at least 10 days to do them in.

More later.