26 June 2008

Snakes on a Plain!!

Snakes are an inevitable problem for cyclists on African roads.

They look really very like sticks. And the snake / stick differentiation seems to occur at pretty much exactly the same point as that at which your brakes are useless to stop you. So it proved for Craig on the road out of Kasanka national park the other day...


Craig had also been the unwilling subject of our first serious run-in with a dangerous snake: right back when we were in Namibia (it seems a horrifically long time ago now!) a spitting cobra had struck at his wheel after I had only seen and recognized it at the last minute. This time, the snake on show was a puff adder and it was simply invisible on the road. I cycled past without seeing a thing and inadvertently led Jess straight towards it. In fact she missed it by inches but obviously gave it a fright as it flinched enough for Chris to spot it from behind her. His shout of "snake!" came too late for Craig, though, who, as if faced with the inevitability of a firing squad, simply shut his eyes and shouldered arms (making use of the cyclists' maneuver universally recognizable as the ‘puddle splits') and drove straight over its midriff! Willing conservationists we all are, but the prospect of nursing a seriously angry puff adder back to fighting fitness was never much of a runner. Instead we made as hasty an exit as we could, all of us imagining every tree root we saw for the rest of the day to be a mamba or python.


Kasanka, like so much of Zambia, had been an extraordinarily beautiful surprise. Its hardly a tourist hot-spot, with a main attraction of the world's largest bat colony (sadly in October/November only). But its one of those hidden little gems that offers all sorts of things that Africa first-timers might often miss, like the Bangweulu swamplands that finally got the better of Dr Livingstone. Tusk has recently been helping Kasanka with various things, and it was the community development initiatives that most caught our eye: once Frederick Mbuwe had got over his amazement at how far we had cycled (he literally had his head in his hands for a full five minutes!), he explained the system they're pushing for the building of fences made not with electric wire, but chili-soaked cloth to keep mischievous elephants at bay. We were taken to see community gardens that had previously been decimated by the elephants, but were now protected and productive: growing saleable vegetables, and helping the community get over their latent fear and mistrust elephants at the same time.


The other great thing about Kasanka was its roads. They were a cyclists' dream: firstly a long long tar road in, down a gentle hill that we could zoom along four-abreast without fear of traffic, and then a selection of brilliant tracks that we got talked into using (as ever, we were suckers for the more adventurous, but less predictable route...), albeit with one more puff adder than we had hoped for! We were even accompanied by essential local knowledge to stop us from getting too miserably lost: Kingford rattled along serenely in front of us for a day of single-track bicycle paths through the forest.


As I mentioned, we developing a reputation for choosing to take the remote and seriously difficult roads, however bumpy they sound, rather than the sensible but boring alternative, and sure enough we came a cropper soon after leaving Kasanka... As most of the enthusiasm for throwing us and our bikes into the rocky horror-show that was the Luangwa corridor road came from yours truly, I suppose its fair that I leave the description up to someone else to avoid undue bias... So, in the words of Jess:


"We've had an extraordinary few days - Barty excelled himself by producing a road that was sandy, rocky and incredibly steep all at the same time. I thought I liked going downhill until I met the escarpment on the corridor road in between the North and South Luangua National Parks in Zambia. I felt like a chicken on a skateboard, skidding and humping my bicycle down the 1000 metres or so of descent into the beautiful Luangua Valley. At the bottom, our bicycles gave out a large sigh and decided to break en masse. We then had an extraordinary few days, waiting, getting hungry (supplies were getting low) and exploring alternative forms of transport...
 
We're now back on track, tubes mended and heading off to Malawi in two days, after visiting some community work in South Luangua."

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari

26 June 2008

Zambia - Big is Beautiful

If you ask Jess's Dad about Zambia, his eyes will glaze over as distant memories from his time in the Copperbelt flood back to him

Alternatively, if you ask Joe Bloggs about Zambia, you're likely to get an equally distant look as they rack their brains for one fact about the country. Unless you've lived there, it's certainly not somewhere that you will have heard much about. The Cycle of Life team's combined experience prior to a month ago summed to Barty's stint at the Chimfunshi Wildlife Orphanage over five years ago and my two fleeting visits, sticking firmly to the roads and rail between the main tourist spots. Therefore, when we were safely stamped out of Zimbabwe the enormous stretch of Africa to our north garnered more intrigue than excitement.


Zambia certainly knows how to make an entrance and our crossing of Bakota Gorge at Victoria Falls is almost unbeatable as a border post. After most of South-West Africa had experienced a long, late wet season earlier this year, the Zambezi River was on fighting form as it ploughed over the Falls. We timed our arrival perfectly as the early morning sun rose above the enormous plumes of spray that the crashing water launched skywards. This dramatic scene made up for the extortionate US$150 entrance visa, but with almost 1000 km from the Falls to our first conservation project, there was definitely a sense of ‘plaster removal' syndrome amongst the cycling team (reduced to three for most of Zambia as Jess fought, and won(!), an epic battle with customs to regain her video camera that had been shipped around Zimbabwe). However, this ‘quicker, the better' approach was soon forgotten as we discovered that Zambia has more to offer than we ever imagined.


A combination of excellent cycling conditions, a beautiful and varied landscape, but above all, thousands and thousands of smiling people made the long roads disappear beneath our tires faster than out speedometer gave us credit for. It seems that Zambians love to smile and the sight of three mzungus cycling past, grinning like fools and waving wildly is enough to turn one's cheeks. The glorious reaction that we got on the roads may well have been amplified by our surprisingly strong presence in the national media. The Sokotas, our fabulous hosts in the capital Lusaka, are wonderfully connected and a quick phone call set us up with ZNBC. Before we knew it, our interview was on the hourly radio news bulletin and a 15 minute interview with Zambia's answer to Loraine Kelly was scheduled for Saturday morning TV. This airplay was an excellent introduction to minor celebrityhood (pre-Telegraph article) and we were recognized numerous times along our route.


If the roads of Zambia were lined with new fans, we were welcomed at our various Zambian stops as if we were old friends. From the Sokotas in Lusaka, to the Rauchs and Siddles at Chimfunshi (thanks for an amazing 25th birthday!), up past the Farmers at Kasanka and ending with the schools and missionaries of the Luangwa Valley, we couldn't have asked for kinder hosts. Not only did these excellent people provide us with enough food to temper our aggressive appetites (big cycling requires big meals), but we were gifted to some once-in-a-lifetime experiences:


• At Chimfunshi I had the amazing pleasure of celebrating my quarter century with a troop of juvenile chimpanzees. Spending an hour playing with, being played with and generally grappling with our feisty young cousins is certainly an obscure hangover cure, but it worked nonetheless.

• Up at Kasanka, Edmund Farmer treated us to a low level flight over Bangweulu Swamps, one of the best kept secrets of Africa. This majestic location is where the wandering David Livingstone finally died, but he picked a good place to leave his heart (quite literally). Buzzing over stampeding herds of black lechwe while dodging the plentiful flocks of wildfowl is a sensation that I'll treasure for life.

• Along with his amazing hospitality at Tafika Lodge (South Luangwa), John Coppinger's greatest gift to us was dodgy route advice. Following his directions, we pushed our bikes up and over a sandy escarpment to be greeted by unforgettable views of the Luangwa Valley. Our voyage across the "very animal" valley floor coincided with severe bicycle breakdown leaving us somewhat stranded (for more on this story, see Craig's next blog).

• Finally, the performing arts and community bicycle tour performed by Kawasa Basic School and organized by Fiona of Robin Pope Safaris was an excellent example of how tourist dollars should be pumped back into the local community. Keep up the good work!

All in all, there is a lot of Zambia and even after three wonderful weeks I feel that I have still only scratched the surface of this land-locked giant. That said, all is not well in Zambia. Boasting the world's second worst deforestation rates per capita, the green stretches of Zambia that we experienced will not last for ever. Unfortunately, charcoal production, transport and burning seem to be firmly ingrained in the lives of many Zambians (maybe a job for Captain Planet?) So... I can safely say that this will not be last visit to Zambia. Whether I return for recreation (still unvisited Lower Zambezi, Kafue or bat-season at Kasanka?) or for vocation (sequestering some carbon!), there are more than enough reasons to come back to Zambia.

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari

20 June 2008

Luangua National Park

The Road of Sand, Rocks and Hills...

"We’ve had an extraordinary few days – Barty excelled himself by producing a road that was sandy, rocky and incredibly steep all at the same time. I thought I liked going downhill until I met the escarpment on the corridor road in between the North and South Luangua National Parks in Zambia. I felt like a chicken on a skateboard, skidding and humping my bicycle down the 1000 metres or so of descent into the beautiful Luangua Valley. At the bottom, our bicycles gave out a large sigh and decided to break en masse. We then had an extraordinary few days, waiting, getting hungry (supplies were getting low) and exploring alternative forms of transport…

We’re now back on track, tubes mended and heading off to Malawi in two days, after visiting some community work in South Luangua."

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group – broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari

03 June 2008

Goodbye Centrepoint...Hello Zimbabwe!

Craig Acquaye

It took us the best part of two days to decide whether or not to enter Zimbabwe...I'm very glad we made the correct decision and took the plunge.

In Francistown we said goodbye to the Damien, Xavier and Zak who headed back to the UK after a great 5 weeks. I hope they all got as much out being out here as I'm getting and I can say with absolute certitude that it's been a lot quieter without them and that they are missed!

After much deliberation, we brave 4, plus our meandering journo (Old Man Norton), headed for the border. The crossing into Zimbabwe was almost disappointingly drama-free. We camped the previous evening on the Botswana side (despite having ‘officially' exited the country!) as we were warned by the Botswana Defence Force that no-man's-land between the two nations is bandit country of an evening. As we breezed through immigration and into Zim the economic instability of the country was immediately noticeable. Bands of black market currency dealers ran after us as we cycled offering billions of Zim dollars for $10!  That night we arrived in Bulawayo just after sunset after cycling 120km. For the first time in 5 weeks I slept in a bed...it felt better than good!

Our focus in Zim was the painted Dog Project which is based on the edge of Hwange National Park and run by Peter Blinston, one of the few Man U fans to actually hail from Manchester!. The work that the Painted Dog Conservation do is very varied and remarkably community sensitive. While the main focus of the project is on the painted dog and the importance of preserving and ensuring the survival of these rare and fascinating animals, PDC also helps local community projects and runs an extremely successful children's education centre.

One such project we visited involved helping a community get funding for a bore hole so they could pump water and maintain a small school and community run allotment. It was great to see that this enabled them to both grow food for themselves and have some left over with which to bring in a small income.

Increasingly organizations like PDC are having to dabble in ‘humanitarianism' in order to get across the message of conservation. In many African countries it is a hard task getting this message through to people simply because they have more important things to worry about, such as how to provide for their family or where their next meal might come from. This sad situation is no different in Zimbabwe and is currently being exacerbated by the bedraggled state of the country's economy. Due to 95% unemployment and spiraling hyper-inflation the vast majority of people have resorted to subsistence farming and, increasingly, subsistence poaching. The Anti-Poaching Unit (APU) at PDC, with whom we went out on a tough 5 hour patrol, are well trained and essential in protecting not only the painted dogs but all animals within the national park. They told us that the majority of poachers are merely looking for meat to live off and have no intent on catching painted dogs. One can definitely sympathize with their plight and it is very difficult to sit on a high horse and tell people they cannot poach when they are only looking to survive in a very difficult climate. The fact is though that their snares are cruel and indiscriminate killers of animals and have a huge negative effect on the population of painted dogs. This all begs the question; how can the message of conservation be successfully delivered to communities who are struggling to contend with fundamental humanitarian problems?

In Zim's case the problem can only start to be resolved by an improvement in the country's current economic position. In the long term, educating children and working with local communities will provide and foster an easier environment by which to impress upon people the importance of conservation and the value of their surroundings. This type of ‘humanitarian conservation' is one that is key to ensuring the survival of animals like the painted dog.

Despite Zim's economic hardship and various other issues the people here remain unbelievably upbeat and friendly. The friendliness is almost an inherent characteristic. The evening following our Anti-Poaching patrol, the 5 of us went to the local beer hall with some of the APU guys and other staff members that Barty became friends with when he worked at PDC. This was definitely my favorite night out for a long time! We guzzled on ‘Chibuku' (a local ‘beer' made from maize. It has the consistency of vomit and tastes pretty similar!) and danced to UB40...there were smiles all round. Perhaps the coolest stat of the evening was that a round of 4 beers cost $1.2 billion!
5 became 4 the next morning as we said farewell to Old Man Norton who left, predictably, in much the same way he joined us...hung-over with barely and hour's sleep!

Another aspect of PDC's work is the education of local children and we spent our penultimate day at the project in the children's bush camp with a group of kids from one of the local schools. From using a computer for the first time to wildlife scavenger hunts to seeing wild dogs being fed, the kids were immersed in a world very different from their own. It was truly great to see the work being done to educate the kids on all aspects of conservation and more importantly how much they (and scud shorts Stevens) enjoyed themselves!

After bidding a fond farewell to PDC we headed north to Hwange where we stayed with Mafika's (the family of one of Barty's friend's at AfriCat) who are possibly the kindest people I've met in a long time. Joyce was like a mother to all of us and cooked an amazing meal while Charles regaled us with tales of Munich 1972 - he was actually there at the Olympics, chosen to compete in the 400m relay for Rhodesia but he and his team refused to run as they wanted to compete for Zimbabwe and wear Zim colours!

We left Hwange in the early hours and began the final leg of our trip to Victoria Falls. Jess was not feeling too tip top (fear not she's all well now!) so her and I hitched ahead. As I sat on top of a pile of sand and cement (which I was later put to work in offloading in return for the lift!) in the large lorry that had stopped for us, I could not help but be sorry not to have had more time to spend in such a wonderful country. There is so much potential in Zim that it is sad that it is currently mainly going to waste. Nevertheless, were anyone to ask me whether they should visit Zim either now or in 5 years time, my answer would be a resounding Hell Yea!!

25 May 2008

Salt Pan Cycling Adventure

Chris Stephens

Salt Pan Cycling Adventure

10th – 12th May 2008

Chris Stephens


During our six weeks in Africa there have been two occasions where our route options have been limited to: (a) bike friendly or (b) unknown terrain. The first situation arose when crossing the Kalahari Desert in North-western Botswana. Despite the strong case put forward by the locals against taking the southern road past Xai  Xai, we set off on a 200 km slog through some of the sandiest sand I have ever seen. Valiantly, we carried, pushed, dragged, and occasionally cycled our bikes through the sand, but after one very slow 40 km day, we swallowed our pride (with a bit of sand) and called in a support vehicle to deliver us to the distant tarmac.

 

Therefore, when a similar route decision faced us a week later, we were pretty set on sticking to the smooth roads marked solidly on our GPS. This was until we prematurely met Graham McCulloch, an Irishman with a penchant for pink flamingos and hard house. We were scheduled to spend a week with Graham exploring the Makgadikgadi Pans and visiting Tachila, an embryonic environmental education centre near Francistown.  However, when we bumped into the Dubliner a week earlier than expected, he encouraged us to take the more direct route to his research station directly across the salt pans. The fact that this advice came mid-bender should have rung a few warning bells, but despite our Kalahari experience, we needed little encouragement to attempt the first ever bicycle crossing of the pans.

 

The day before we began our pan adventure we were joined by Charlie Norton, a freelance journalist cycling with us for two weeks through Botswana and Zimbabwe. Charlie’s article will be in The Telegraph Magazine one Saturday in late June, so I have removed all the parts where he was pathetic with a hope that he will return the favour. (Off the record, Charlie was very pathetic). So with Charlie on board and Damian’s knee still injured, a team of six (me, Barty, Jess, Craig, Xavier and Charlie) headed out towards the salty wastelands.

 

Just in case anyone is confused (or interested?), I’ll hit you with a bit of rough science to set the scene. Millions of years ago, a great lake (about the size of Switzerland) covered Northern Botswana and the surrounding area. As the world’s climate changed, this lake slowly dried up and created the Kalahari Desert and the Okavango Delta. The lowest part of the lake still exists and remains the end point of many of the region’s rivers. This means that huge amounts of salt has been deposited here over the years and formed a saline white crust that seasonally dries under the beating African sun. This is Makgadikgadi Pans.

 

So… as we arrived at the pans at the end of the rainy season, Graham drunkenly assured us that they should be dry enough to cross on bicycles. However, before we could even test out his hypothesis, we had to cycle 40 km of questionable terrain to even reach them. After a day of more sand-pushing, rock-dodging and bike-breaking we finally approached the edge of the pan. Unfortunately, our GPS was not clear on the pan/savannah boundary, so as dusk set in we found ourselves still cycling through long grass and herds of zebra at the time lions start to think about dinner. In order to escape this less-than-ideal situation, we made a beeline for the safety of Jack’s camp, the crème de la crème of bush safari camps.

 

Keen not to get in the way of their paying customers, we accepted their offer of a makeshift campsite and pitched our tents next to their refuse pit. The smell soon became bearable and we set off again at first light waving goodbye to the local brown hyena and honey badger. As the sun rose, we cycled past the last few bushes and enter the pan for real. In every direction we were surrounded by a pale crust of salt littered with an occasional clump of shrubs. We followed the track a few kilometers south, occasionally glimpsing eastwards, building courage to take the plunge and cut our own route across the pan. We knew that about 80 km towards the rising sun there was a salt mine, but between us and this distant destination was a whole load of nothing.

 

Finally, we threw caution to the wind and took an abrupt left hand turn off the track. The pan beneath us was hard but crisp and crackled under-tyre. However, over the next 40 km the pan consistency varied enormously and our progress was slow. As our legs tired and the sun became too strong, we hid under a patchwork of shade created by our inverted bicycles and flapping tent sheets. This lunch break was a relief from the heat but revealed a slight problem with our supplies. Barty realised that a freak shopping accident had left us with 2 kg of flour rather than mealie meal, so with no way of making bread, our rations suddenly seemed short.

 

A quick team council to discuss this issue (along with our fast diminishing water supplies) resulted in a decision to continue east, although the basis of this decision was primarily a refusal to turn around. Either way, our minds were set, and we mounted our bikes and resumed our bearing. The afternoon flew by and before we knew it the sun began to set behind us. As we were still miles from our planned campsite of a cattle post (hopefully with water), we continued to cycle under the moonlight. After two hours of surreal night-cycling we finally gave up on reaching this mark and pitched tents on the pan.

 

Despite being well short of our target and short of essential supplies, the mood in the team was surprisingly good. Xavier lifted spirits higher by revealing that the “chocolate is ready” and we each savoured the misshapen treat while lying out under the blanket of stars. A very early alarm clock woke us the following morning and to our relief we pushed our bikes through a hundred metres of shrubs to find the shelf of land that splits the pan in two. Our fortune continued when we found the cattle post was manned by a smiling herder offering us water and mealie.

 

Replenished and revitalized, we crossed the mid-pan dirt before finding a small village to break for lunch. Over the previous day Charlie’s back had been causing him increasing levels of discomfort (tracked accurately by the volume of his grunts) and he finally decided to call it a day. Needing to find a vehicle to remove our stricken journo, Jess jumped on a local horse and cantered off to find a lift. After Jess decided to accompany Charlie ahead, the pan cycling team was left with just four members for the last 30 km stretch of salt.

 

Aided by two friendly cattle boys, we located a small path down to the second half of the pan system. Despite their warnings that cattle and goats always die if they stray onto the heat of the pan, we set off hoping to get to the salt mine before dark. This looked unlikely as the pan started off in a sticky fashion, but we were soon flying along with a hard crust beneath us. As we approached the middle of this stretch, we began to experience the heat that we were warned about. The sweat was pouring off us all (me more than most) and I soon had worked my way through eight dioralyte sachets in less than two hours.

 

Once again, the sun began to set with us short of our destination, but this time we were adamant that our target would be reached. However, there is one last twist to the tale - with every kilometer that we got nearer to the mine, the ground beneath us became wetter and wetter. As we slipped and slid across the salty mud, we gave up on cycling and resorted to pushing our bikes through the dark. By now, the mine had grown to a sparkling network of lights ahead of us and we had no idea which flickering glow to aim for.

 

Deciding it was time to call in for help, we attempted to fire up our satellite phone but experienced a poorly timed mechanical fault. With no way to communicate with Graham, we plodded on until we reached a foot-high wall that cut across the pan. Thinking that we may  have finally reached the mine, Barty stepped over the wall only to fall knee-deep into a salty slush. It seemed that Graham had forgotten to mention that the gallons of water pumped up by the mine turned the pan into the salty equivalent of quicksand.

 We quickly backed off from the wall and started to slog our way further to the south. A long half an hour later, we decided to give the sat phone another go and, to our relief, got through to a very relaxed Irish voice. Graham assured us that we could not be too far from our destination and volunteered his car headlamps as  a target to aim for. So, like insects drawn in by light, we relocated some hard ground and set a course for the new glow on the horizon. Finally, we reached the end of our pan crossing and were greeted by a cold beer and congratulatory, “you mad fools!”.

25 May 2008

Telegraph Online - Part 3

Makgadikgadi Salt Pans by Bicycle - Jess Hatcher

"Our biggest challenge to date neatly coincided with the arrival of a
new team member. In my best Richard Attenborough voice, I could now go
into the behavioural rituals of the lesser-spotted African Cycle of
Lifer and the dangers of introducing a second dominant male into a
pack at such a late stage. Just a week ago now, journalist Charlie
Norton who is covering the trip for the Telegraph Magazine arrived,
expecting to take part in an innocuous sounding 'bike ride' for a few
days. Had he joined us two days earlier, this would have been the case
and I do feel slightly guilty that our proximity to a swimming pool
when he met up with us lulled him into a false sense of ease and
comfort. As Charlie tucked into a burger and chips by the pool at our
Botswanan campsite and eyed me up as being unlikely to set the
physical stakes too high on the trip, Barty - Chief, Headman and
dominant male - was putting the finishing touches to the plan that
would make us the first group of cyclists (to our knowledge) to cross
Botswana's salt pans unaided. Charlie's most pertinent question on
hearing of the plan was "are they even dry?!" Indeed, are they dry? No
one really ever goes off-road on Botswana's salt pans, see, so no one
really knows. I know my Top Gear and had seen the troubles Clarkson
had getting across them (and that was with four-wheel drive, not one)
but in my dual role as girl and the one who's never been to Africa
before, my concerns mattered little.

Even the road to get onto the pans was a nightmare – it was sandy,
rocky, slippery and soft all at the same time, and the fact that I'm
now itching to launch into a dissection of the relative cyclability of
a soft but flat surface over the more difficult, grooved two-track
worries me. By the time we actually reached the pans, we had four
broken front panniers and one buckled wheel and we'd travelled a
miserable 35 km in one very long day of pushing and cursing. A big
voice in my head was telling me that neither touring bikes nor
Jessicas were meant to cross salt pans in this manner. Happily, I was
saved the indignity of having a sense of humour failure by Charlie,
who had one first, and all credit to the man, it was far more
colourful than mine would have been.

That was low point one, I would say. Number two was lunch time the
following day, when Barty announced that the 2.5kg of maize that was
to feed us for the week was, in fact, strong white bread flour, and
that basically we were screwed for food. The woman in me rose to the
challenge and reeled off a number of innovative ways to cook bread
flour on methalated spirits, confident, of course, of enough limiting
factors for me never to actually have to attempt any of them. There
was then a sorry moment when we all solemnly gathered around three
tins of pilchards, two packets of biscuits and a can of
luncheon-meat-of-indefinite
-origin which was to feed us for the next
few days.

Low point three was probably the first night on the pan. Barty had
talked of incredible stars glinting above a ghostly reflection of the
moon in white crusty salt. Instead of gazing at said natural wonder,
we spent the evening trudging, heads down, through alternating gorse,
salt mud and rock in the dark, trying to get to a point where it was
safe for us to spend the night. There was one particularly surreal
moment when we hit hard surface and decided to cycle. Bicycling in the
dark is really something you should try, if you ever get the chance. I
was at the front, navigating with the stars to maintain course and
feeling much more like an ocean liner than a cyclist, and behind me
was Xavier, shouting to our erstwhile intrepid and now just fading
journalist friend, that it is all in the head, and that with a good
game of 'Animal, Mineral or Vegetable', he would forget all about the
debilitating cramps he was experiencing and be able to keep up. I
suppose at least it was better than Chris' suggestion of a game of 'I
Spy'.

The low points continued - Graham, who was the man crazy enough to
encourage this pan-crossing business, and also the person waiting on
the other side hoping he wouldn't need to arrange a rescue mission,
tells us he had some interesting moments. A text message we sent began
with our global co-ordinates, stated 'progress slow', detailed 'water
low' and then finished surprisingly with the phrase 'all fine' (I was
told not to worry him unduly). He then enjoyed a phone-call from the
pans the next day from a delirious Barty shouting, "They're wet,
Graham, wet. The pans are wet. WET."

Perhaps my favourite bit is the lone cattle herd who let us fill up
our water on the morning after the night-cycling episode – "You are
crossing the pans by bicycle? Do not go there. The cows go there. They
die."

I have to say that for all the blood sweat and fears (I did extremely
well and did not cry once throughout all of this), there is no doubt
whatsoever in my mind that this was worth doing. Botswana's salt pans
are an incredible natural resource that the country has yet to really
exploit, and I feel really rather privileged to have got to know it,
albeit at times a little too intimately."

Jessica Hatcher

12 May 2008

Monday 5th May

Craig Acquaye

Today has been by the most emotional and poignant of our trip so far. Wilderness Safaris run a project called "Children in the Wilderness" whereby for 6 weeks every year Wilderness will close its top end camps to paying guests. In their place they take 96 disadvantaged children from Botswana to the camps for a 5 day trip to learn about the environment and most importantly of all, to have fun - something which is not that common for them to come across in their day to day lives.


We were taken to a day centre run by a lady called Fiona who, along with the aid of a great team, provide fantastic support and help for some of Maun's most disadvantaged children. These "street kids" are often AIDS orphans or victims of abuse and have no real options, or no real lives as we in the west upon our high horses may say.


What Fiona and her team do is to help these kids to rehabilitate, give them hope. Their job must be one of the most rewarding and heartbreaking in the world. 85% of the children in the centre have been victims of sexual abuse and a good number were also HIV positive. I can only admire their courage and spirit and the generous nature of the team trying to help them.


Many of the children we saw had been to a Wilderness camp and the general view is that it inspires them - if only for a short time. The follow up could be improved but to be honest if just 1 in 10 is inspired to become a safari guide and reaches it then the project has made a difference. It made me wonder, what can I do to help? I'd like to think that what I'm giving of myself at the moment is enough (and Fiona flatteringly said she was amazed at what we're doing) but the truth be told, I'm having a great time doing it. I doubt that I'd be having such a great time if day in day out I saw such destitution. What can I do to help?!

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari...

06 May 2008

Some words from Centrepoint

Xavier and Damian

"I have never been to Africa before so this is my first time here. What I thought about Africa was totally different to what I experienced during the beginning of our trip. We first started in Namibia where it was mostly white owned private farm lands. In this area we visited one of the projects supported by Tusk which is called Africat. After passing the red gate, which is the border between the farm lands and the communal lands we started to encounter an Africa much closer to that which I had expected. Every day from then on we went deeper and deeper into Africa and my passion for the cycling and the real meaning of the trip in itself was becoming greater.

There have been two projects which have really impressed me. One of them was a community run ecological conservation project in a small village called Khi Khi. We could only stay one night there but it appeared to me to be really positive and well managed.

The second was the most constructive project I've seen. It is based in the Okovango delta and it is researching African wild dogs which are one of the most endangered wild animals in the world. Clever ideas are coming out of it and it is really well established. They are using a football program to help introduce to the community their conservation ideas. I think it is a really innovative program and looks as though it is working well. We also had an afternoon in the bush in a safari vehicle joining one of the researches as he tracked the wild dogs. The landscape and the animals we saw (giraffes, hippos, elephants, crocodiles and a pack of wild dogs) was just Awesome Dude!!!!!!!!!!"

Xavier Bernall


Over the last couple of weeks, wey three weeks and two days to be precise, I have been participating in a charity event which is based in Africa and is called the CycleofLife which involves me cycling 1,500km across Africa to raise money for African conservation projects. So far on this challenging expedition I have been through emotional times such as not being home sick and not being able to cycle certain days due to physical injuries which took some time to overcome. However, I have made a quick recovery and I will be back on the road tomorrow although we now only have 6days left of cycling left to do. Apart from cycling the team and I have visited various projects along the route which are Africat, the Klein Dobe Wild Dog Project, The Botswana Predator Conservation Project, Children in the Wilderness and The Rhino Conservation project, and there are more to come in the coming couple of weeks. Whilst visiting these projects I have found that their opinions on conservation are different to mine which I think is good because they know what they are doing and I am here to find out what that is. Sometimes I find it hard to do this because most of the time my mind is else where due to me being home sick. However, I have now got my head around everything and have started to pay more attention to the projects. Today for example we visited Children In The Wilderness which hit me hard and I realised that things at home are totally different to Africa. In some ways my life and that of some of the people I know are very similar to the street kids we met but also far apart at the same time. I found it quite hard to watch the kids as I felt there was nothing to do so me, Zak and Xavier decided to have a game of football with the kids so I feel as if I have done my bit in cheering the kids up.

So all in all the event so far has had its ups and downs but I can guarantee that we will have changed our prospective on life and our drive through life. After all, all we have had to do whilst cycling on our bikes is to think about what we want to do with our lives and how to help other people other than ourselves and how we can achieve these missions. And my answer has to be to take every day as it comes as you never know what could happen at any time.


By the One and Only Damian Janson.

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari...

27 April 2008

Chris and Craig’s Biketastic Blog

Chris Stephens and Craig Acquaye

Our two weeks in Namibia have passed much like the roads we've been cycling on, generally smooth with the odd gravelly bump or sandy slip.


This pause roughly marks the halfway point of the Centrepoint leg and the presence of Zak (the only one being paid to be here), Damian (the Geordie mechanical genius) and Xavier (the deep-thinking, slow-moving Frenchman) has added a new dimension to our perception of life. During our first week in Namibia we cycled through the white-owned farm land and had a disappointingly small amount of contact with Africans. We've stayed with eccentric Germans with turreted castles (that we conquered) and hospitable big game hunters with a taxidermist's living room. Despite the generosity of these hosts, we have been left with the impression that there is still a huge gap in the quality of life between white landowners and the black people of Namibia.


Therefore, when we crossed into the community-owned land inhabited, amongst others, by the San bush people, it felt like a refreshing entrance into "real Africa". We then spent two nights singing, eating and dancing with San villages along our way and learning about their way of life and the difficulties they face in the modern world. However, our arrival at one village was marred by confusion as the women gathering wood scattered from the road as we approached. They assumed that our line of fully-laden bikes was a charging herd of baby elephants and had mobilized the local militia (one man on his horse) to deal with the problem. This confusion was quickly dealt with by a game of football with twenty of the village's children ending in an honorable 1-1 draw.


Unfortunately, being confused with elephants is the closest we have come to Africa's larger mammals, although Craig experienced a fleeting brush with a cobra as it darted for his bike. Snakes aside, the main difficulty with the cycling has been bottom-related and we have all been feeling the effects of the bumpy gravel roads. We have now cycled 550 km in seven full days with a maximum recorded speed of 55 km/h. Here are our five top tips so far for cycling in Africa:


5. Put syrup with everything, apart from meatballs
4. Never waste a drop
3. Shaving is for girls (although Jess' beard is better than most)
2. Wear lycra and only lycra
1. No slipstreaming after a curry lunch


Tomorrow morning (Sunday 27th April), we're heading for the Botswana border and the questionable roads of the Kalahari Desert. We hope to be arriving in Maun, the next outcrop of civilization, on the 3rd April.

Big love to you all,

Chris and Craig

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari"...

23 April 2008

Cycling Namibia - the first week

Jessica Hatcher... in haste

We're trying to average around 80km per day... which in deep sand and bum-grindingly bumpy gravel is not all that easy. Happily, we have two hour lunch breaks - the first fifteen minutes of them is spent cooking a vat of meali-meal (ground maize, or semolina to those who know it). This is then gobbled away in seconds. The CoL Company then tends to pass out for an hour or so, before another gruelling four hours on the bicycles.

Incidentally, the bikes are holding up well, while we're definitely starting to flag somewhat (well, I speak for myself really). We're crossing through Bushmanland at the moment - more reflection will follow on Friday but for now, it's a case of preserving enough of myself to make it til then!

With love from deep, dark Namibia, where lunch is over, and it's time to get back on the road..,.

Jess

Brought to you by an inmarsat BGAN from the SatCom Group - broadband quality internet from the doorstep on a Bushman in the Kalahari"...

Page/s:    1  2  3