Day 98. 15 August. South Karonga to Kasumulu. 66 km. 5 Hours. 220m up. 120m down. The one thing about the Mikuma Beach Lodge which I was really sold on was the buffet breakfast. I started it at 0700 and finished at 0800 and was pretty much eating continually for the hour. It would mean I could get all the way to the border with Tanzania without stopping for more food. I eventually left the quite sterile and characterless lodge at 0830 and cycled up the track for just over a kilometre to reach the main road at a lively hamlet.

I was quite surprised at just how little traffic there was on the road. There were the occasional petrol tankers, some small lorries and the frequent collective taxi cars scraping their back bumpers along the road. But there was only one of these a minute. There were of course a lot of bicycles, a lot of motorbikes, a few ox carts and hundreds of pedestrians. As a rule everything moved quite slowly, partly because they were so overloaded. Indeed I saw one motor bike with two people on it. Nothing strange there except one had a large calf on his lap. The calf’s 4 legs were bound together and then 2 people helped lift the calf, which must have been 150-200 kilos onto the passenger’s lap. It looked quite resigned to its fate and when it overtook me its head was hanging down. I caught up with it at a police road block but they flagged him through as if it was a everyhour event. I eventually caught up with them again when they reached their destination and were untying the large calf to present it to its new owner on the north side of Karonga.

574. Approaching Karonga the road was busy with pedestrians, cattle and motorbikes but relatively few vehicles.

Karonga itself was a small city really and I guess it population was well over 100,000. It had little charm or redeeming features except for a large cement brontasaurus in the middle of a roundabout. I assume that is because some fossils were discovered nearby. Otherwise it was a large version of the towns, and even villages, with many groceries, market stalls, material shops, mobile money booths, bars and small frying stations making cassava and sweet potato chips. However it also had many busy mills dehusking rice, perhaps 10 in all and outside most of them was a huge pile of the discarded husks, some over 10 metres high and 30 meters in diameter. I had not really seen much agriculture on the 10 kilometres I had already cycled this morning on the way into Karonga, so this surprised me. After some 15 minutes I was leaving Karonga having peddled through the vibrant, noisy town with plenty of music blasting out at maximum volume so the speakers crackled, and people had to shout over and above that.

After Karonga it was like I had entered a different country. Suddenly there was agriculture and lots of it, especially rice. There were many hundreds of people in the rice fields getting it ready and hundreds more already planting the shoots into the muddy soup. I guess they might be able to get two crops out of these fields as what is planted now might mature in four months, just as the rainy season is starting. Then another crop can be grown from December to April. This is hard work for the farmer but it means he can make a substantial profit from his labours and prosper over the one crop farmers. There were not that many rice fields which were planted now, perhaps a fifth, as they needed irrigation. But there were numerous rivers which came down from the mountains to the west and crossed these extensive plains before entering the lake. There was a river or stream every 5 kilometers and all of these provided some irrigation on their banks.

575. North of Karonga the agriculture was much more vigerous with all the flat lands beside the rivers irrigated and ofter planted with fields of rice.

Where there was no irrigation the rice fields or paddies were fallow and dry. They stretched for miles until the distant mango trees around the homesteads obscured their view. I am sure they continued well beyond these homesteads and perhaps all the way to the base of the mountains some 20 kilometres away. There were many cattle grazing in these fields and they were nearly all tethered. Those that were freeroaming usually were dragging a length of rope tied round their neck or horns and often had a young cowherd to keep them off the road or neighbours fields or gardens. I think these rice fields which were fallow just had one crop a year and that was in the rainy season when it was easier to flood the field.

576. Where there was no irrigation the field were fallow and would probably remain so until the rains came in November when they would be planted with rice.

The kids were still very excited when I appeared. They spied me from quite a distance and then sprinted across the field from the homestead hoping to get to the road before I passed. Many now were holding out their grubby hands to do a high five as I passed and I must have done over 100 in the course of 50 km. There were a few shouts for money but they were the exception. These were great kids really and totally content with their family life and lot in life. Occasionally they slipped up and did not notice me as I passed, but I noticed them, and they were always playing games and jumping for joy, despite their relative poverty. Lake Malawi was quite special and Livintstonia unique but it will perhaps be the spontaneous excitement and joy of the children which I will remember most from Malawi.

577. In the rice growing areas the homesteads were much more substantial and better built showing how rice is much more profitable than maize.

These rice areas continued nearly all the way for the next 40 kilometres to the border with Tanzania. Where the land was unsuitable for rice, on the shallow ridges between the streams there were cassava plots everywhere. Where there was fallow land there were many cattle eating the rice grass and stubble from the previous harvest. Sometimes the cattle and paddyfields with rice growing in them were in close proximity and I am sure the cow and goat herds have to be on their guard to stop the livestock plundering the green grass of the rice paddies where rice is growing. The people here were much more industrious in their agriculture than south of Karonga. Whether they were blessed with fertile land or whether they had a more determined work ethic or culture I don’t know. But it is interesting to note that the tribe in the areas with the lacklustre agriculture south of Karonga were the Tumbuka, and the tribe north of Karonga with the vigorous agriculture were the Ngonde. However I am sure that there is more to it than tribal characteristics. The houses in the area north of Karonga were also more substantial. This again is probably due to the production of rice which I think is the most productive crop in terms of calories over a given area and therefore rice growers have more surplus to sell over maize growers.

578. Frequently there were areas of irrigated fields with rice growing in them next to fallow fields with livestock grazing them. The cowherds must gave a difficult job making sure they dont encroach onto the verdant rice shoots.

Eventually after nearly 60 kilometres I reached the border at the Songwe River. The Malawi side was very scruffy and chaotic with trucks all over the place and many looked broken down. The border area reverted to earth roads which was odd after the great road. I cycled through the parked lorries and scruffy buildings which looked like warehouses. I saw nothing official really until I crossed the bridge over the river and saw the Tanzania immigration building. I parked my bike and went in. At the counter for a visa I discovered that I could not get the exit stamp for Malawi here and I needed to go back a kilometre and get it before they would process my Tanzania visa. I am sure if I had not asked they would never have noticed but they were now aware so I dutifully went back to Malawi to get the exit stamp. With that done I returned to the Tanzania immigration and filled out the visa form. I had to pay 50 Euros or US dollars also and I had the former ready so handed it over. It was all done in about 10 minutes.

I left the building and went up to a nearby ATM and took out 800,000 Tanzania Schillings which was about £240. That should be enough to see me across most of Tanzania. There was also a stall selling preregistered sim cards so I bought one with 15 GB of data on it for 50,000 shillings (£16). It was with Vodacom which everybody said was the best. I was then good to go but spotted a restaurant right beside the mobile phone shop so went in and had some rice with beef stew. It was 5000 shillings which was cheaper than Malawi. I also took some time to decide what to do next. It was already 1530 so I thought I would just cycle to the edge of this border town and find some lodge for the night.

569. After the border on the Tanzanian side the agriculture looked very organized and these plots of maize must have been irrigated to thrive like this in the dry season.

The Wings Hotel was 4 kilometres away at the junction of a road I might take tomorrow. I decided to check it out and set off. I was disappointed to see that the marvellous quiet road I had been on for the last couple of days had gone and now I was on a busier road with a verge which had been eroded away in so many places it was virtually useless. To make matters worse there was a tall lip between the narrow road and the lower verge so it was either one or the other. I chose the road as most of the time the trucks and cars could pull out and overtake me but occasionally I had to go onto the verge and back onto the road which was a nuisance. This will play a major role in the decision I have to take tonight if I follow this road for the 40 km to Tukuyu or if I take small gravel roads for 70 km to get there.

The Wings Hotel was quite good. It was cheaper than most middle range hotels in Malawi and everything worked. I did not have to put my hand into the cistern to pull the syphon or worry if the water was hot or even flowing. I took a room for 40,000 shillings or £12, and was soon in the shower. I ate in the adjacent restaurant and it too was reasonable and cheap. I think Tanzanian prices are almost half the Malawi ones and everything is better and less hit or miss. From the very little I saw of the Tanzanian culture and character today I would say the people are much more gregarious and chatty and there was a fair bit of banter. It was almost like the population of an industrial working class city like Glasgow or Gothenburgh as opposed to its more staid professional counterpart like Edinburgh or Stockholm.

Day 97. 14 August. South Karonga Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. I had not had a hard day in the last two days but had got hopelessly behind with the blog and other admin tasks and needed to take a day off just to catch up with them. I had come to the Mikoma Beach Lodge with the express purpose of doing just that. It was not as I hoped but then if I kept cycling until I got to a place which was suitable I would never stop. It was beside Lake Malawi and had a small beach and a cool breeze.

It also had a buffet breakfast and after the stay at the Mushroom Farm, which was vegetarian and with smaller portions, I was ready for an eat all you can breakfast. I made full use of it and left the table feeling full. I then spent the entire day in my cabin room writing. I even skipped lunch as the breakfast was so substantial. I had finished writing by supper time and then I spent the evening loading all the text and photographs and sending emails until I was completely up to date.

573. Beside the Mikoma Beach Lodge was an active fishing village with boats and dugout canoes landing their catch of cichlids.

Tomorrow will be my last day in Malawi as I cycle about 55 kilometres to the border with Tanzania and then get some money and buy a last sim card. After the border which is about 500 metres elevation I start a massive climb out of the rift valley and onto the lip of the escarpment at just under 3000 metres. This 2500 metre climb will take a couple of days and at the top of it I branch off to the east and leave the main road for small roads again.

Day 096. 13 August. Mushroom Farm to South Karonga. 92 km. 8 Hours. 410m up. 1030m down. The small agile green vervet monkeys woke me up just before 0600. It was just in time to see the magnificent sunrise across the lake at 0600 as it rose in a shimmering crescent of orange. The monkeys were all over the platform I was camped on and I think they smelt food. In the end I got up and scared them off a bit. I put my granola and milk in my pan to take over to the dining area and took the tent down. When my back was turned one monkey nipped in and took a half kilo granola bag and was up in the tree before I knew what was happening. She ripped it open, spilling granola everywhere and all the others rushed to the forest floor to eat the crumbs while a big male started to chase her for the rest but she was too nimble and was soon out of view.

After my breakfast I carried the bike and all the panniers up said good bye to Sam and Will and pushed my bike up the steep hill to the infamous track which descended to the coast. Once on the track the descent started immediately down the side of the escarpment. On one side of the track were the tree tops from the trees growing on the very steep slope, and on the other side an embankment where the road builders had hacked in and removed the rock and earth. It was quite a feat even if the road was narrow. Every few hundred meters or so was a hairpin bend and then the descent started again. In all I think there are some 30 hairpin bends. Occasionally the track was covered in laid concrete and these sections were great but there were only about 10 of them and they only amounted to a few hundred meters altogether. For the majority it was packed rubble type stones which jutted up from the surface and made the descent very bumpy. After a while I could see the escarpment looming above me as I descended but the plain below beside the lake did not seem any closer at all. There were motorbikes which came up and down here and they tended to follow the least bumpy path moving from one side to the other. It was easy to see their slightly smoother track and I followed it. There was also a pickup which overtook me and it was really old and battered and no doubt just used for this run.

563. Starting to head down the track descending the escarpment. Livingstonia is on top of a further rise on the right and out of the photo.

It took ages to get down and I pretty much had my hands on the brakes the whole time. I don’t think I pedalled once but just let the bike freewheel on its own, bumping from stone to stone. I had to go slowly to protect my rims and spokes as this would be an easy place to damage things. The trouble was I was constantly on the brakes wearing out the pads quickly. Down and down I went until suddenly I noticed the homesteads on the plain were getting closer and looking back I could see the cliffs which the road had somehow woven between. I stopped to feel the brakes once and wetted my fingers and put them on the discs. They sizzled like drops of water on a hot stove top. However after a careful hour and a half I at last reached the homesteads unscathed and then had an easy run down for a few hundred sandy metres to the main M1 road. At the junction there was the smell of drying fish and a material market with bamboo racks full of very vibrant colours.

564. Half way down the 30 something hairpin bends of the track looking back to the cliffs on which the Mushroom Farm sits.

I was pleasantly surprised how quiet the main road was and nothing like it had been outside Mzuzu and Lilongwe. It was also wide, with smooth tarmac and perfectly flat. There was also the smallest of tail winds. When I started cycling I realized everything was in my favour and I was cruising along at 20 km per hour with hardly any effort. The planets had aligned in my favour for once. For the first 20 kilometres or so the road frequently went close to the beaches along the lake where there were many fishing villages. I could smell them from a distance and see the boats moored off the beaches as I approached. There were many shacks along the beach but I don’t think the fishermen stayed in them as their main home, as they were very ramshackle. I think they were for staying when repairing nets or laying the fish out to dry and other work.

565. One down on the lakeside M1 main road at Chitimba i passed a few fishing villages with millions of net caught fish drying in the sun on racks.

It was a great shame to see millions of cichlids laid out in the sun drying and that this was happening all over the lake. Most aquarium fish in Europe are lake Malawi cichlids and I have heard it is unethical to source them as they are endangered. However, the reality is the aquarium trade is negligible compared to this extensive fishing. It must be relatively recent, perhaps in the last 30-40 years or so as this type of intensive fishing is only really possible with nylon monofilament nets. Previously there would have been fishing but this would have been done with baskets and traps and the amount of cichlids harvested would have been a 100th of its current unsustainable plunder.

566. After Chitimba there were a few rice growing areas where the muddy paddies had already been prepared and young grass shoots were being planted.

I passed frequent plains where there were small streams running and the farmers here were preparing large rice paddies. The fields were about 40 meters by 40 metres and already they were being ploughed by oxen and turned into muddy soup. The surface was then smoothed off with a wide rake-like tool to spread the mud evenly and people were already planting rice shoots. They planted a clump in each field and then took a handful of shoots and walked quickly in rows pushing in a shoot every 20 centimetres or so. It looked like back-breaking work but they were very quick and could probably do a field in a morning. That would be a substantial harvest of rice.

567. St Anne’s Church was part of a Catholic Mission originally started by nuns in 1948. It comprises a secondary school, small hospital and this church.

The road climbed very slightly past a point at Chilumba. There was a Catholic mission, St Anne’s, with a church in a large garden surrounded by bougainvillaea, a mission hospital and a secondary school. This mission was formed by Catholics nuns in the 1940s, but has since been handed over to the local Catholic diocese of Karonga. It was like Livingstonia in miniature. North of Chilumba and St Annes the road dropped very gradually for kilometres. On these sections I could get a good speed up and sustain it with very little effort. It continued like this for about 15 kilometres which I did in about 30 minutes.

568. Stephanie (father) and Rei (son) are a team of well seasoned African bike packers and this year were cycling from Uganda to Mozambique.

570. Malawi is full of good natured kids. They are all quite confident and well socialised and they must be well nurtured in their homes and villages. No one has a normal pose and they all like to show off with the camera.

At the bottom near the large village of Ngara I met Rei and Stephane, a father and son team from France. They came each year to cycle a few thousand kilometres in Africa and this year were on a trip from Uganda to Mozambique. Last year it was Angola, Namibia and South Africa. They really seemed to know what they were doing and were very relaxed about the trip and confident of being in Africa. We chatted for a good 15 minutes and then they continued south while I went into a local restaurant to have beef stew and rice for a change. The problem with rice is that it sometimes has small bits of grit or even stones in it and you have to remember to eat it carefully to avoid a broken tooth.

569. Ngara is a fishing village and harbour with a thriving industry in netting cichlids and drying them on racks in the sun.

North of Ngara there were still homesteads on each side of the road but the fields were all covered in tall weeds, as if they had been there for a few years. There was about 30 kilometres of this with no obvious agriculture at all yet plenty of houses. There were the occasional stalks of maize lying on the ground but even they were covered by last year’s weeds. It seemed the farmers here had just abandoned any farming. The only thing I saw were small herds of cattle and goats. I don’t know how the people of Ngara or Mulale survived at all. I cant imagine the men were migrant workers in Tanzania or there was enough fish caught to abandon farming.

572. Between Ngara and Karonga it seems most of the farmers have let their fields run riot and they have not been cultivating them in the last year.

As I neared Karonga I passed two large lagoons where sand had been carried by the prevailing waves to form a spit which eventually met the other side of the bay and created a lagoon. I am not sure if they were still connected to the main lake or not. The land around the lagoons was grazing pasture and there were many small herds of cattle here. There were also huge flocks of egrets in the shallows round the fringe of the lagoons and I am sure this would be a great birding area as migratory birds would stage here as they flew up and down the lake. A little beyond the lagoons I reached a lakeside lodge on a small beach which I had earmarked.

571. Well to the south of Karonga near the village of Mulale were two lagoons which were separated from the main lake with a drift of sand which now has trees growing on it. There was a lot of grazing nearby.

It was still some 10 kilometres south of Karonga but I did not want to go into that town to find somewhere. The one I earmarked was called the Mikoma Beach Lodge. It was expensive. Not by European standards at £25 but it would be way above budget for the Africa bikepacking community. I needed somewhere to write though and could pay a premium to catch up so took a cabin overlooking the beach. There were a group of 10 motorbikers staying here. They were mostly from Australia and New Zealand but the organizers were South African and quite brash so I gave them all a wide berth. After my meal I tried to write but was tired and had all day tomorrow.

Day 095. 12 August. Livingstonia to Mushroom Farm. 11 km. 1.5 Hours. 70m up. 350m down. The main reason for staying at Livingstonia was to explore the place in the morning and the first thing I did after the unusual breakfast of fried bread was to go to the Stone House. It was built in 1903 after the university and church were built. It was built as the head of the mission’s residence and office and somewhere he could receive guests. Much of the very scruffy and dilapidated display centred around Robert Laws. He was the founding father of the mission.

Robert Laws had grown up in Aberdeen and trained as a doctor. At that time the Church of Scotland had a number of missions in Malawi, notably in Blantyre and Cape McLear. However the latter especially did not fare well as people frequently died of malaria, not really knowing what it was. There was also one at Ekwendeni where I was 2 days ago and it was decided to try and build one at Livingstonia on the plateau where the air was clean and disease was hopefully not so prevalent. It was essentially Robert Laws and his team who set this up in the 1890’s.

560. The cabins at Livingstonia next to the Stone House were quite simple. Just to the left was a long steep slope down rge escarpment so they had a great view.

Robert Laws built the university with a view to educate the local Malawians in business, technical subjects, book keeping, christianity and other practical subjects. The university he built must have been exceptionally advanced and beautiful for its day and one of the most advanced in Africa I think. It thrived and produced leaders of industry and commerce in Malawi. It was often at odds with the colonial British masters in Blantyre who wanted to subjugate Malawi while Laws and his team wanted to educate Malawi so they could manage themselves in a world of change. He also built a hospital on the plateau and in this hospital the first caesarean operation anywhere in Africa was carried out, so in its time it was quite advanced too. Robert Laws lived at Livingstonia, much of it in the very house this faded museum was in, for about 50 years in all managing the Mission. After the disappointing museum I wandered round the outside of the Stone House and was distressed to see how badly it was being maintained. I looked through a few windows and saw that it was near derelict inside. There was one room with all the papers and history of the Mission and the Livingstonia Synod, which was the collection of all the churches in the region, and I am sure they are soon going to be destroyed by water ingress or even a fire.

I went back to the cabins and then met Jim Campbell. I had already met him at Ekwendeni at the church service. I knew Jim was a minister as he had a collar on then but I did not know he was the minister at Livingstonia for about 40 years. Indeed he had lived in the Stone House during this time with his wife who was a nurse at the Mission Hospital here. Jim was fascinating and explained how the Irish Presbyterian missionaries took over from the Scots around and after independence and that is how he ended up here. He told me about his time here and lamented the lack of maintenance and the woeful neglect of the Stone House and the church. He seemed to think the university now just taught social sciences and all the technical faculties had moved to other campuses. He had some great stories about the place.

I left Jim and then got on my bike and cycled round the campus. It did seem very quiet but then perhaps the universities were also off until after the election on 16th September along with the schools. I cycled on some of the smaller paths to cut across the whole plateau to get to the Mission Hospital which seemed busy. There were two main wards, one for women and one for men and a maze of covered corridors to other buildings. I went in and saw some empty hospital trolleys getting pushed around and medics walking briskly. There were large crowds of people outside, some selling food and drink and others waiting for patients. The hospital was functioning and busy but could also do with some maintenance.

561. The main building at the David Gordon Memorial Hospital at Livingstonia was set up 130 years ago by Scottish Missionaries and still operates.

It was now midday and I decided to go down to meet two fellow cyclists, Sam and Will, who were doing almost the exact opposite to me and were going from Dar-es Salem to Swakopmund. They were already at the Mushroom Farm having arrived late last night and this is where our paths would cross. The route down was steep but on a tarmac road past the local village of Livintstonia, still on the plateau, and then off the northern edge to where the Manchewe Waterfall was. Here the tarmac road stopped and turned into a narrow earth road. It seemed that the large well built tarmac road was built purely to access Livingstonia which shows how important it must have been up to about 10-20 years ago. I skipped the falls even though they were supposed to be the tallest in Malawi, and continued on the small undulating road. I passed the turn off to Msasa, a small lodge run by Ricus and Pietro Delport who I met in Nata 2 months ago. I had hoped to stay here but first I needed to get their phone number to make sure they were there as I really enjoyed their company. Ricus was the most knowledgeable person I had met about all things in Africa south of the Equator as he had worked in virtually all of the countries. After about half an hour and a worrying amount of descent I finally reached the fabled Mushroom Farm and met Sam and Will, who were on a day off carving small wooden elephants.

562. The dining room reception and relaxing area of the Mushroom Farm which was built right on the edge of the escarpment overlooking Lake Malawi.

The Mushroom Farm was built on the edge of a cliff on the escarpment. If you dropped something over the edge it would free fall for a good 100 metres before landing on the forest clad ridges below. There was a great view over the bottom of the escarpment and then a flatter farmed plain beside the lake before the lake itself some 5-6 kilometres away in a straight line. It was a spectacular spot. There was a main area with the dining room/reception area and relaxing area and that is where all the guests congregated and were fed. Then there were about 10 small cabins dotted about the hillside and a few camping platforms. There were about 30 tourists hanging about in the dining area and many seemed German. The atmosphere was very home made bread and hummus, with a massage and yoga workshop. Apart from Sam and Will I did not have much in common with anyone else who was here because it was on the traveller circuit. The staff were very nice and helpful but most of the clients were dull. After trying to get in touch with Ricus and Pietro for a couple of hours I eventually threw in the towel and decided to stay here and camped on a small wooden platform right on the edge of the cliff. It was a spectacular spot. It also meant I could relax with Sam and Will for the evening.

Sam and Will had taken the exact route through Tanzania I had planned on taking, but had never heard an account of anyone else doing it. They had come from Bagamoya next to Dar-es-Salem on roads beside the big truck clogged main highway to Mikumi where they had branched off to Njombe. They had used about 20 days so far but had said it was quite hilly with one day involving 1900 metres of ascent for them – and they were young fit lads in their prime. All in all they said it was very nice, quiet, friendly and rural. We spent the rest of the day hanging out and swapping more tips and stories. They had some funny tales and I was looking forward to getting to Tanzania. That evening we ate in a larger group and had the vegetarian evening meal which the cook prepared. It was a peanut stew and it was delicious but the portions were small. I tried to write but it was just too difficult with the conversations and people milling around and my brain was always looking for a distraction so I decided I would head on down tomorrow towards Karonga. There I will find a place beside the beach and have a rest day before leaving for Tanzania the next day.

Day 094. 11 August. Rumphi to Livingstonia. 74 km. 9 Hours. 1150m up. 880m down. I managed to get an early breakfast and then roll down the hill at 0730. A team of road builders were already hard at work. At the bottom of Rumphi I turned east and then cruised down the hill to the bridge over the South Rukuru River where there was the T junction. Here I left the tarmac and turned north along a gravel and earth road which was immediately quiet and delightful with the early morning sun. To the west was a row of quite arid hills which rose up above the hamlets and homesteads and to the west was the South Rukuru River and then the plains across which it flowed. The main crop grown here seemed to be maize but there were lots of tobacco fields also and long ramshackle drying sheds with grass roofs beside every home. The maize was for eating and the tobacco was to sell for cash. Around each homestead were mango trees and there must be a glut of mangoes in season so much so that I think some will even be fed to the animals.

547. Just east of Rumphi the South Rukuru River tumbles through a narrower valley before spilling out onto the plains beneath the mountains to the west.

548. Looking west from the road between Rumphi and Mhuju to the western edge of the plains where they meet the mountains which rise up into the Nyika National Park.

As I cycled and the sun rose I passed a few larger villages. They were a hive of activity with people coming to the mills with sacks of maize kernels to turn into flour for nshima. The men frequently arrived on motorbikes with a 100 kilo sack strapped onto the pillion seat and women carrying 25kg bags on their heads. The kernels were ground twice. Firstly they went into a grinder which broke them into smaller fragments. Then they went into a grinder which turned them into a fine powder and this powder went up shute and dropped into a sack which collected it and could be tied up easily. It was then ready to take home and cooked with water into a paste which is the staple food of Africa, variously called nshima, ugali or fufu depending on the linguistic area.

551. Nearly all the larger hamlets and all the villages now have a maize mill for turning the kernels into flour to make nshima.

The villages were also busy with packing tobacco. The tobacco had been harvested a while ago and I did not even see any drying. However there were plenty of wads of leaves in the villages and these were getting compressed into bales. Firstly the wads of leaves were laid flat in a metal crate by people standing in the crate. They stood on them and compressed them down, squashing them. When the crate was full and their weight had squashed them as much as possible the metal crate was put under a large press. This press was made of a plate attached to the bottom of a threaded metal spindle which was turned with two handles at the top. As two people pushed the handles the spindle rotated driving the metal plate down and compressing the leaves further. Eventually there was bale, about a meter by 70 cm by 70 cm of compressed tobacco leaves, which was then wrapped in hessian. I guess each bale was about 100 kilograms as it needed two people to lift them. I saw quite a few small lorries bouncing along the road with perhaps 20 bales stacked on them taking them to a factory warehouse.

549. Tobacco is the cash crop in this area and virtually every homestead grows and dries it. It is then sold and the leaves are squashed into bales using presses with a screw plate.

The two largest of the villages Ngonga and Muhuju both looked like market towns for the hamlets. The whole 35 kilometer cycle looked quite hard working and industrious and everybody on the road was very friendly. As usual there was an explosion of excitement when the kids saw me. They just ran to the road to greet me, or high five, as I went past and none really asked for money and neither did the groups of women. As I travelled north to Muhuju the mountains to the west got higher and higher. These were the mountains of the Nyika National Park and they rose up to well above 2500 metres. They were quite green and lush and the tops were covered in a layer of low cloud. To the east the high plain between this small quiet rural road and the main M1 highway got wider and was covered in small homesteads but also had large grazing areas where cattle wandered lazily.

550. The pressed dried tobacco leaves are squeezed into steel crates and then wrapped in hessian cloth to form a square bale which must be about 100 kilos.

After Muhuju the quite good gravel and earth road I was on reached a T junction with a tarmac road. This tarmac road went all the way to Livingstonia and was very nice to cycle on initially. It was smooth tarmac with a wide lane in each direction and a good verge. It did not need that as the road was quiet with little traffic. There were many pedestrians and even ox carts on the road taking wood to a homestead or bundles of tobacco sacks to a press to get squashed into bales. There was still a lot of maize grown and the odd field of cassava too. The road was well constructed but there were many more ups and downs that I bargained for and my cumulative ascent was mounting quickly as I dropped down into a steep side valley and then had to climb up the other side. They were often short but taxing and as the road surface was good I tried to get as much momentum as possible for the climb up. On one occasion I was doing over 70 km per hour. There were still a lot of hamlets between these valleys and whenever I stopped to take photos I was soon surrounded by kids. They were always good natured and just wanted some interaction now. I would do many selfies with them or give them my sunglasses or bike helmet to try on.

552. The kids are everywhere and very excited to see me. Whenever I take a landscape photo I am soon surrounded. As the kids in North Malawi are less likely to pester for money I can relax more with them and lend them my sunglasses.

Just north of Chiwerewere the ups and downs of the side valleys ceased and I had a wonderful downhill run for at least five kilometers where I dropped down into a large valley. All my apps and maps said I would have a huge climb up the other side but I was living in denial, and just enjoyed freewheeling down the bends with the hills on each side getting steeper and steeper. The road here was well constructed and in many places where cuttings were made in the soft rock it was beautifully terraced. Down and down I went enjoying the cool breeze which comes with 40-50 km per hour. The road was still empty so I could lean into the sweeping corners keeping in the middle of the road. Eventually this joyous downhill finished at the junction village of Haniniya. I stopped here for some biscuits and a bunch of bananas as despite my denial I had an inkling as to what was coming next.

And it started straight away. There was a steep slope up from the bridge over the river in the village. It was so steep I decided just to push the bike for the best part of 20 minutes to the top of the slope. But this slope was just a warm up. There was a descent where I just about lost all the height I had just walked up into a higher valley which I found a bit of a Shangri La. It was surrounded by green slopes on all sides and streams came down these slopes to nourish the fields around the hamlets. Some hamlets were on the bowl of the valley floor while others were high up on spurs and knolls surrounded by fields. Above the slopes, especially to the west the mountains rose steeply into the mist over the Nyika National Park. However, I could see across the bowl to a series of hairpin bends which rose up and knew I had to go this way.

553. After the village of Haniniya a significant climb started up to Livingstonia. As I climbed I could look west across mountain hamlets on the eastern edge of the Nyika National Park which largely grew tobacco, cassava and maize.

The climb was relentless but I just put the bike into the lowest gear and started up. It was just doable but the 5-7 hairpin bends took at least an hour to climb. Slowly I gained height with my legs working hard but not over exerting. Occasionally I looked down across the bowl and was delighted to see I was really making good progress and the bottom was now far below me. As I passed one knoll a group of about 10 kids emerged from the distant doorway with sacks on their heads. They ran down the slope, crossed a small beck and then climbed up to the road just behind me. They were carrying maize kernels and I think each package was about 20-25 kilos. Despite their load they were cheerful and sprightly and were taking the maize to a relation in the next village. The strength and stamina these kids had was like nothing I have seen in Europe and only seen in Nepal before. They would make most plump spoiled European kids look like Little Lord Fontelroy. Perhaps their cheerful nature comes from the fact they are so physically able. There is no time to worry about mental health issues or ponder what gender you might be if you are striding up a hill with 25 kilos of maize on your head. They all kept up with me slowly grinding up the hill and I could not help but be in awe of them.

554. Some of the homesteads on the edge of the Nyika National Park were remote and without road, but most had electricity to them. The land must be lush and well watered for them to preserve growing crops on these steeper hillsides.

At the top of this middle climb there was another drop and then a further long, but much more gentle climb past another village to a saddle near the hamlet of Kajoni. I had climbed some 400 metres in the last two hours and stopped for a rest. The kids soon appeared and a few had a motorbike tyre which they propelled along the empty road with two sticks. These toys were everywhere and seemed to have replaced the bicycle wheel rim and a stick with a bit of wire on the end which was the previous generation’s toy. I have also seen some beautifully made replicas of cars and lorries made from wire with plastic bottle tops as wheels. These small wire vehicles are propelled with a stick and wire. Between the motorbike tyres and the small wire vehicles the kids keep themselves amused. They lead their entire waking life outdoors and are bright and healthy. Much more so than their plump European counterparts who are gaming on their phones. The Malawi kids are happier too.

555. Old motorbike tyres are the favoured toy to practice skills on and have taken over from the bicycle wheel and hooped wire a generation ago.

I could now see Livingstonia. It was on a small plateau above me to the east. It meant I still had another 150 metres to ascend but I knew the end was near. I clawed my way up the last slope and noticed how much cooler the air was up here now at about 1350 metres. At the top of the slope I had at last reached the plateau which was about 2 kilometres by 2 kilometres and surrounded by slopes on all sides. There was a local village up here and also the Livingstonia mission station. The mission station was the reason Livingstonia existed and it was composed of the University, the Church and the Mission Hospital. I had read about them previously and was sure I would find the place fascinating so had already decided to spend a night up here and find out more about its history. I knew that the early missionaries when they set up the station had some engineers in their ranks and they built a water supply to the plateau 130 years ago as there was none previously. This water supply was collected from a stream to the west and then entered a pipe. It travelled down the pipe to the saddle I had crossed an hour ago and then flowed up the slope to the top of the plateau where it was discharged into two huge tanks. Crucially the intake of the pipes was higher than the discharge at the tanks so the sealed gravity fed system worked.

556. At the top of the 400 metre climb i had some flat respite before the final 100 metre climb to the small plateau on which Livingstonia sat on top of the pictured hill.

On the plateau I cycled round to the University. It was set up 130 years ago also and was made of brick. It had a main hall and then two quadangles with classrooms around the quadrangles. There were serene arched walkways linking all the buildings up. The whole complex, which was quite small really, had been meticulously planned before building started, and it had not grown organically over time in a haphazard manner. It really was quite unbelievable that anything like this existed in Malawi let alone on a hilltop and it is testament to the vision, drive and foresight of the Scottish missionaries who set it up.

557. The Livingstonia University was set up by Robert Laws, a Scottish Missionary in the 1890’s to train Africans in engineering, entrepreneurship, bookkeeping, teaching and the ministry.

After the University I went to the adjacent Church. It was slightly larger than the one at Ekwendeni, but not as old. Perhaps it could seat 800 as opposed to Ekwendeni’s 500. It was also built of brick and this brick must have been fired very well as it was hard and weather resistant. The church has a lovely clocktower and stained glass windows. One was of David Livingstone himself with his two trusted companions Susi and Choma, who would eventually carry his body back to the coast so he could be returned to be buried in Westminster Abbey. It is difficult to overestimate the affection Livingstone was, and to an extent still is, held in Malawi and this is because over and above his explorations and missionary work he worked tirelessly to eradicate the slave trade from Malawi. While the Atlantic slave trade ceased in the early 1800’s it persisted for another century in the Indian Ocean with Muslim caliphates and states sourcing slaves through Zanzibar. Livingstone lobbied the British and French governments to pressure these Muslim states to abolish slavery in the early 1900’s

558. The Livingstonia Mission Church was built by Scottish Missionaries, notably Robert Laws who ran the whole mission at Livingstonia for over 40 years.

I was a bit alarmed at the lack of maintenance on the church and just simple things were not done. Many of the downpipes had slipped and become detached from the gutters meaning water poured down the walls to their base rather than down the pipes to be led away from the foundations. This would be so simple to fix. There were also small shrubs growing from some of the gutters and ledges. The person in charge of the church’s maintenance must be completely inept. In one place the saturation of the ground in the rainy season and then drying out in the dry season had caused the foundations to shift a bit and a large crack was appearing at a gable end that could prove terminal unless the gutters and downpipes are reconnected.

559. The stained glass window in the the Mission Church at Livingstonia features David Livingstone and his 2 trusted companions Susi and Choma (to the right).

From the church I cycled past the Stone House, once the head of the missions house and office, and looking remarkably like a Scottish mansion house, to the lodge. There were a few lodges and hostels on the plateau, mostly for the students, but this one was built for tourists and it consisted of about 6 cabins with a central kitchen. It was near the Stone House on the edge of the plateau overlooking a large rural shelf below the plateau but before the sharp drop of the escarpment. From the verandah of the log cabin I could look to the east and just see lake Malawi and sometimes you can even see Tanzania across the lake. I was tired and tried to write the blog but once I had eaten the nshima and chicken the hosts brought me I was just ready for bed.

Day 093. 10 August. Ekwendeni to Rumphi. 54 km. 5.5 Hours. 410m up. 530m down. I slept well in the monastic room with the cold shower and two old wooden single beds. When I woke at 0630 I realized there was already a service in full swing and the sounds of singing were ringing out across the grounds. I hoped there would be one later so I had a breakfast of the granola and powdered milk I carry. I was just cleaning up when there was a knock on the door. It was a very cheerful man and his wife and they had come to take me to the service at 0730. He was something of an elder I think and she had something to do with running the guesthouse. They must have gotten wind that I wanted to go to the service from the guard and he kindly said we could go together. We went in and his wife went to the pews on the left looking at the altar, where most of the women were sitting, and we went to the right where most of the men were sitting. There were a few other whites in the church and there were about 500 clean cut, tidy Malawis.Soon the whole place was packed and the ushers had to get spare plastic garden seats. There were two choirs of 20 ladies in each, and they were in two different dresses and they occupied the front three pews on each side.

540. The early morning service at 0730 in the packed church at Ekwendeni. One choir were on the yellowish dresses at the front. The other choir is out of sight.

There were some small introductions and then one choir got up and went to the front and some music started. It was very melodic and soon the ladies in the choir were singing and dancing. It was quite genteel initially. Then there was the sound of a loud whistle and a man with a white bandana took the aisle space in front of the ladies. He was very energetic and danced well but it was the blasts on the whistle which overwhelmed everything and got the atmosphere lively. After about a pulsating minute on the whistle, with the music getting louder and the ladies chorus now in full voice he started to sing. I don’t think I have ever been so struck by a voice. It was incredibly powerful and very clear and in tune. It sent goosebumps down my spine and made the hairs on my arms prickle. It was like there was a rockstar in the church singing gospel songs. It was more than I hoped for. The song lasted for about 4 minutes and I think the whole congregation was in awe. After it was over he handed the microphone over and headed out and the ladies in the choir returned to their seats. I was totally starstruck by his performance.

I hoped it was just the warm up and there was more to come. There was then a pause in the worship as one of the guardians of the church went through the accounts and how much had been raised and he also mentioned the names of certain individuals who had made special contributions. It was a bit like reading the minutes from an AGM and it meant very little to me. I was hoping it would conclude and we could get back to the singing. After 10 minutes it did end and then there was about 15 minutes of prayers and hymns. Then all the new visitors to the church that day were encouraged to go up. My host encouraged me to get up and I joined another four visitors, 3 Irish and a Mayasian. We introduced ourselves on the speaker system with a microphone.

I hoped then we would get back to the livelier singing but instead the minister started the sermon. He spoke very oddly, almost shouting every third or fourth word with huge emphasis and then quietly speaking the ones in between. Every phase started with a bellow, then reverted to a whisper before ending with a bellow again. I could not make out what he was saying and he was hidden from my view with a pillar. The sermon went on and on and there was no joy in it at all. I don’t think it was fire and brimstone but it was very Scottish Presbyterian. In the end I was hoping he would stop but he loved the sound of his voice and it went on for an hour. I felt a little trapped sitting next to my host but I noticed more than a few people were on their phones.

After an hour there were a few more hymns and prayers and then the collection. The collection was done in a remarkably efficient and well practiced manner. The entire congregation, pew by pew, formed two lines on each side of the church and then filed past a large basket in the nave. Once you had put some money in you went back to your seat by which time the next pews were already up and waiting in line. When I passed I peered into the basket and it was full of 2000 kwacha notes. If everyone put in 2000 kwacha that was a million kwacha, or £400 in all. After a few more quick prayers the service ended and the other choir got up to sing and dance to a tune while we all filed out. The courtyard outside was full with the congregation mingling and chatting to each other. I spoke briefly to the minister who gave the sermon and discovered he had spent a year in Edinburgh as part of his Theology degree. It was 1000 now so I went back to the room and packed and found someone to pay the 7000 kwacha (£2.50) room charge to. I left around 1100. As I left I noticed there was yet another service underway in the church and I had a quick look in through the open door. The church was again packed for the third service of the day. It was one of the oldest in Malawi and was built in the 1880’s and was an important Christian structure, apparently on a par with its sister church in Livingstonia

541. The red earthen road between Ekwendeni and Engucwini was easy to cycle and took me through less verdant homesteads.

Instead of going north down the M1, which was not the most relaxing road to cycle on, I decided to take small roads which almost went parallel to it. On the map they looked equidistant but in reality they were much slower and more convoluted. However they were very rural and quiet. So I returned on the small side streets to the main road through Ekwendeni and cycled through the vibrant chaos to the north end of town where there was a small tarmac road to the west which I opted to take. I was only on it for about 4 kilometres before I turned off onto a track with extremely red earth. There were a few other church denominations along this stretch, one even had drums playing, and they all seemed a lot more jolly than the Presbyterian one I went to.

542. To the west of the track were tobacco and maize growing homesteads and then the hills which rose to the west which eventually led up to distant mountains.

Once on the red road I cycled north past a large macadamia plantation and then descended for a long easy stretch on the lovely road. Suddenly I noticed how dry and arid it was. There were even a few baobab trees about which was in stark contrast to yesterday. To my west were hills and outcrops, some quite lofty and rising high as they formed a range of mountains well above 2500 metres. It eventually led up to the watershed which was the border with Zambia 100km to the west. The road continued to descend and got more rutted and remote. The homesteads here were much fewer and they were now all growing maize again but each one seemed to have some rough racks under a makeshift roof for drying tobacco leaves. Tobacco was obviously the cash crop now. After 2 hours on this red road, with the occasional climb, I reached Engucwini, a large village built around crossroads with the usual selection of grocers and market stalls. I stopped here for a drink and biscuits as the heat of the day was intense at 1330 in the afternoon, and there were no cooling breezes.

543. To the east of the track were more homesteads which stretched out onto the plains where the busier M1 road I was trying to avoid was.

I left Engucwini on the track heading NNE to Rumphi. The road was still earth and it still undulated across the edge of the plain which was to the east. To the west were the mountains and the track I was on kept along the base of them. They were covered in arid scrub and not the lush forests which I saw beside the lake. Virtually no one asked for money now and they were all very respectful, except for the children who were always excited to see a muzungu and could not contain themselves and came running to the track. I stopped and chatted with a thin older man in a bright green suit and hat to match. It was old and crumpled but he had a minister’s collar on. He had a lovely English accent but limited vocabulary. He was just returning home after giving a service in a more fringe denomination. After we parted I caught up with someone on a bike. His name was Bright Chirwa and he was going to a football match between two villages in about 10 kilometres at Kacheche village. We cycled together as his English was good. He was about 60 and a respected elder I think as everybody on the road knew him and greeted him warmly. It was lovely to cycle along and chat with him and he kept up easily on his old gearless bike. A few small lorries passed us and one carried the football team from his village and whom he was going to support. There were also lorries with maybe 20 women in the back. I have seen it before in Malawi and noticed it because all of them were singing a gospel type song and joking with all the pedestrians they passed, including me.

544. The well respected Bright Chirwa on his old bike in Kacheche village where he went to support his village’s football team.

At Kacheche I said goodbye to Bright and continued on my own on a small track to the west of a growing river. There were homesteads on each side of the track but they were sparse now. On the other side of the river was a great grazing plain and beyond that the M1 road which I was avoiding. Even this small track was full of chat with women greeting me, ladies carrying water from borehole pumps to their homestead and the occasional motorcyclist who stopped their bikes as I approached eager to talk. It was perhaps the most friendly bit of road I have been on in Malawi so far. Some 2 hours after my stop at Engucwini and an hour after I left Bright and Kacheche I reached a busier tarmac road which went up the valley to the west beside the South Rukuru River.

545. The small social track between Kacheche and the tarmac road near Rumphi was great on a bike but occasionally sandy.

I cycled up this road and then crossed a bridge over the river. It was now 1530 in the afternoon and I did not have anything in mind about where to stay. Just after the bridge was a T junction with a branch going to Livingstonia in about 70 km where I wanted to go, and another branch going west up to the town of Rumphi, which was in the wrong direction for me. However there was nowhere to stay on the small barren road to Livingstonia. I could always fill my bottles from a village pump and try and camp surreptitiously but I am sure I would be seen and soon mobbed. Alternatively I could go up to Rumphi and find a lodge and continue to Livingstonia tomorrow. I did the latter and after half an hour reached Rumphi and then after half an hour again I found a new lodge, The Sameda, which had a large room and hot shower for 15,000 kwacha (£15). I was soon in the shower washing yesterday’s sweat off and giving my cycling shorts and hoodie top a good scrubbing.

546. This young woman was only about 14 yet was quite happily carrying 15 litres of water on her head taking it from the communal bore hole to her homestead.

Day 092. 09 August. Nkhata Bay to Ekwendeni. 71 km. 8.5 Hours. 1340m up. 610m. I had really enjoyed my stay at Mayoka Village Lodge. It was the relaxation, peace and quiet I craved. I felt recharged, especially after the breakfast and the proper coffee. I said goodbye to Mathew, who was the main man working there I think, and also to the other staff and then carried my bike and panniers up the steps to the carpark and set off a little after 0800. I tried to leave early as I knew I had a tremendous climb ahead of me today up to Mzuzu, which lay on the plateau. I cycled over the small ridge and then cruised down into town past the prison vegetable plots which were now busy with cheerful prisoners who were weeding and watering. A little later I reached the town which was in full swing and all the stalls which seemed half full yesterday were now full of produce. I cycled slowly through trying to postpone the inevitable climb which started at the far end of the main street. When I reached it I dropped into the lowest gear and slowly started to ascend. It was not as bad as I feared but I went slowly. It took me a good half hour to climb back up the 150 metres I freewheeled down a few days ago. It was already warm and I was soon sweating – and this was just the beginning.

531. The lush fertile farmland of the plain before the climb started. The homestead is surrounded by large mango trees.

Once I reached the top of this first climb by the T junction with the main M5 road I had a delightful 15 kilometres which was an unexpected surprise. The road dropped slightly and crossed a fertile plain which was intensively farmed. There were crops everywhere and many homesteads, all of which looked relatively well off compared to the ones on the plateau I had seen and those north of Lake Kariba in Zambia. The main crops here were rice and cassava but there were also many small banana plantations and maize was making a comeback after being relatively scarce along the lake since Salima. Everything was green, even the road verges, and the crops and vegetables were verdant and well watered and despite it being the dry season were thriving. Although it is the dry season perhaps the land here does get some occasional rain or is frequently overcast and this prevents it drying out too much. The land here was nothing like the parched arid landscape covered in cactus and baobab trees like Botswana or Zambia.

532. At Mpamba just at the start of the climb there was rice laid out on tarpaulins on each side of the road. It was to dry it completely before dehusking it at the pictured adjacent mill.

After cruising along here I reached the town of Mpamba. It was here the climbs started in earnest. There was nothing else to do except to drop down to the lowest gears and just grind away. I stopped noticing much of what was happening beside the road and started to concentrate on the tarmac ahead of me. The road was in good condition and was smooth to cycle on and the verge was wide, although the vegetation often encroached onto it. Crucially the road was also quite quiet and the main traffic on it were the small overloaded cars which operated like a bus dropping people on and off. There were a few trucks but both those going up and down were slow. The ones coming down were using the engine as a brake and were roaring and the ones coming up were barely moving faster than me and belching fumes.

533. The small town of Mpamba was typical with small shops, mostly grocers, back from the road and market stalls in front of them, allways with tomatoes, beside the road.

This climb almost lasted for about 800 metres with the odd bit of respite as it dipped into a valley perpendicular to the road. As soon as one climb finished there was a bit of freewheeling, which was over in gif and then the next slog started. On and on I crept looking at my altimeter from time to time. In all I climbed from about 475 meters up to 1375. Half way up the climb I could look to the south and see distant bright green patches on the lower hills which I knew was the large Kawalazi Tea Plantation. It was about 15 kilometers to the south of me. As I climbed the vegetation started to change slightly. The lushness of the Garden of Eden started to become a bit more like a green scrub and the fields were often fallow with just a few green with cassava. The main crop higher up was now maize and even the ever present mango trees were starting to disappear.

534. As I climbed the road tended to follow the main ridges. On each side were side ridges and valleys where homesteaders farmed on steep ground and lived on the ridgelines.

Towards the top of the climb the road was following the crest of ridges which wove up between the steep deep valleys on each side. There were side ridges too and this seemed to be the place where farmers built their homesteads away from the dangers of landslides and floods. The houses looked very scenic and almost idyllic perched on the knolls and must have had great views. Below them on the hillsides were the cultivated fields. Some were very steep and all had been tilled so the furrows ran across the hill like contour lines to hinder erosion. Soon I started to pass the occasional pine tree. I am sure they were Bhutan Pines, Pinus wallichiana, as they had their long dropping needles in bundles of 5. Often I saw small plantations of them on the hillsides as if they were growing as a crop, probably for firewood but possibly for natural turpentine also. On and on the road climbed and I could see thick forest now on the hillsides beside me as it was too steep and too remote for farming at all. These hills were the edge of the plateau or escarpment and I at last climbed through them to reach the lip of the plateau and the end of the sustained climb. The city of Mzuzu was just 7 flattish kilometres away.

535. The digging hoe, or mommaty, is the farmers main tool. It is swung into the earth and then the chunk is pulled towards you turning it over.

With a lovely cooling wind I cruised west, largely descending slowly to the edge of the city. It remained rural right up to the edge of the urban area and there was no sprawl of warehouses and offices as there had been in Lilongwe. After a week of quiet roads I was now on a road with two lanes in each direction and a central reservation with ornamental shrubs and grass. I had to negotiate a few roundabouts with the traffic getting busier and busier until I climbed a small rise to reach the main intersection in town which was where the road I had been on since Salima, the M5, met the artery of Malawi, the M1, which connected Blantyre with Lilongwe and also with Tanzania and the ports. Just here at this roundabout was a shopping mall with a cashline and supermarket. I went in and withdrew a bit more cash as Malawi was more expensive than I originally calculated and certainly more expensive than Zambia. I also bought some drinks and biscuits at the supermarket and put them in my front basket to have somewhere quiet.

The trouble was there was nowhere quiet and so I decided to head north west on the M1 as I was going that way anyway and it would give me a good indication as to what that road was like for cycling. So I left the roundabout and passed hundreds of market stalls with people and carts all over the road which the lorries and taxi cars were trying to negotiate. As it was downhill I was fast but could not just let rip as there was so much going on. After a kilometre it quietened down near the start of the small airport and I pulled over onto the wider verge and had my snack and looked at the map for my options. It was only 1500 hrs and I could still make it to Ekwendeni I thought, where there was a much praised bed and breakfast. The problem with Malawi is that it is so densely populated along the roads that if I camped I would soon be discovered by kids who would then attract more and more until I was sitting there on the ground with I suspect 50 people staring at me.

The 17 kilometers to Ekwendeni were fast, as much of it was downhill. On one occasion I looked at my odometer and I was doing 61 km per hour. But there were some longer uphill sections also and the road was quite busy. It had virtually no verge and occasionally the ragged edge of the road made a big detour into the road as if something had taken a bite out of it. These were disastrous for the small cars as they dropped into the void and scraped a bit more off their spoilers and wing panels even. The town lay on the undulating plain-like plateau but all around to the north and the west were much larger craggy outcrops and hills. When I eventually got to Ekwendeni the lodge had no space and I had to find somewhere else.

536. The two clerics at the Ekwendeni CCAP mission church and guesthouse. The sign they are holding is the 100 year celebration of when the various presebytarian synods of South Central Africa merged.

537. The supposedly 150 year old CCAP church in red brick in Ekwendeni. When I arrived there was a service with singing bursting out of the windows.

I looked again at the map and saw there was a CCAP mission, hospital and guesthouse nearby. This was the same denomination as where I heard the beautiful singing in Salima a week ago, namely the Church of Central Africa Presbyterian which had strong Scottish roots and stems from David Livingstone himself. I decided to check it out and see if the guesthouse actually existed. 5 minutes later I had cycled past the mission hospital and was now standing in front of a large beautiful brick church with singing pouring out its windows. I then met two senior clerics of the church and I told them I was from Scotland. Their smiles lit up. The ladies said I was most welcome and I could stay in the guesthouse. I never asked how much it was. The security guard let me in and showed me a simple room with a small bathroom with just a cold shower. It was perfect for me as there was a table in the redundant dining area.

539. Inside the CCAP church at Ekwendeni which could probably seat at least 500 worshipers and singers during a service on the wooden pews.

After settling in, the security guard led me back into town as I was parched and hungry. I bought some drinks but did not want to waste time eating nshima in a local restaurant so decided to have a dehydrated meal with cold water later. Back at the guesthouse and church the service had ended and everyone was coming out. The security guard seemed to know everyone including the warm-hearted minister. They both said I should go inside so I did and took a few photos. The stained glass windows had many Scottish names on them. It was a simple church, typically presbyterian and rumoured to be 150 years old. If so it must have been built just after Livingstone’s time. I thought I would try and make it to the first Sunday service early tomorrow morning before setting off. I was so pleased that the original guesthouse I earmarked was full otherwise I might never have discovered this place. That evening I had my cold meal and then spent a couple of hours on the blog at the end of a long day.

538. The stained glass windows might have been made in Scotland and shipped over in the earliest colonial times. There are a few Scottish names mentioned at the bottom and these were perhaps the founding ministers.

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Day 91. 08 August. Nkhata Bay Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. Again I did not sleep well in the cabin and kept waking up tangled in the mosquito net. However in the morning I had a lie in and then slowly got up and had a leisurely breakfast. I had set today aside for some kayaking and snorkelling. After breakfast I started to get the equipment ready and that took a while. The kayaks were just Sit-On-Tops and the backrests were all pretty much broken but the rest of the kayak was intact. It took me a while to get a life jacket adjusted and then tie my camera on. My plan was to go out of the bay to the next bay to the south. It was just a few hundred meters really. Then I would tie the kayak to my life jacket and plop into the water with the mask and snorkel. I would then swim back towing the kayak behind me while looking at the fish and trying to photograph them.

529. A view of Mayoka Village Lodge with the cabins on the photo’s leftvand the bar/restaurant/relaxing area bottom right.

I eventually set off at 1100 by which time the wind had increased slightly. The Sit-on-Top was a cumbersome thing and with the broken backrest I found it quite hard work. However, I only had to go round the slightly choppy headland and into the next bay which was less than a kilometre. Here the water was flat and it was easy to tie myself to the kayak, spit in my mask and roll off into the warm water. Once the mask was on I realized it was a bit deep and the bottom was sandy so I let the wind and waves carry me towards the shore. I still had the life jacket on so I was extremely buoyant and could not dive. As I got closer to the shore some rocks appeared and it was only a few meters deep now.

The sun was shining onto the nearly crystal clear waters and soon I could make out the fish. They were not in great shoals but drifted around as individuals. It was easy to see the fish as they even had shadows. Most of them were close to the rocks and they seemed to be nibbling the algae which was growing on them. I think all the fish I saw were cichlids. There are apparently some 800 species of cichlid in Lake Malawi with many endemic. The ones I saw were all quite small and less than 10 km but they do get up to 25 cm. I don’t know how many species I saw, perhaps 20 in all with a few blue ones and a few orange ones, but the majority of them were brown. They seemed remarkably untroubled by me but they were 2 meters deep and I could not dive down that far with my life jacket on to photograph them. I must have seen well over 1000 fish in all, just off the peninsula where Mayoka Village Lodge was located.

523. Lake Malawi is home to some 800 species of cichlid fish and they are found round its shores. It is possible to spot many while snorkelling.

As I was swimming past towing the kayak I noticed a man in a dugout ahead. I had to go within 10 meters of him to avoid rocks. I did not realize he was fishing until I was past him and then nearly swam into his net. He was going along the net taking the very cichlids I was photographing out and dumping their limp bodies into a bucket. Perhaps he would get 30-50 per net and then move on to the next. It was perhaps naive of me to think this did not happen. All the fish I had seen landed by the fishing boats over the last few days were all cichlids or aquarium fish. I continued past the net and then swam back to the small jetty at Mayoka Village Lodge. I then had a great hot show as I was now the only guest and washed all my clothes.

524. Unfortunately all cichlids and any other fish are caught by net from dugouts and fishing boats and then sold at market or consumed by the thousands of fishermen.

In the afternoon I went into town which was about a kilometre away. There were lots of tourist shops on the way there all with a Reggae Vibe and most were selling carvings or paintings. In town however the markets were in full swing. The first thing I noticed were about 8 ladies all in a row selling fresh small cichlids- exactly the one I had been admiring just an hour earlier. They were all silver now as they lay spread out in a winnowing basket for sale. There must have been hundreds of them.

525. The markets are full of fish and here are some of the medium size spieces caught by the fishing boats.

A little later I came across a many with 3 tables of larger cichlids. I had not seen any of them when snorkeling and assumed they would be a bit further out in the lake and caught by the traditional 5-6 meter fishing boats. I passed hundreds of these on the way up from Nkhotakota. There must have been at least 100 fish on display and they were all 15-20 centimetres and perhaps enough as a meal for one.

526. Every market is dominated by tomatoes at this time of year. Sweet potato, greens, cassava, potatoes and onions are also sold now but tomatoes outnumber everything else put together.

There was a large political rally in town with loudspeakers and about 200 supporters of one politician. As I returned there was now a party atmosphere and everyone was dancing. Most of the supporters were women and I noticed the politician was a man so he must have been quite charismatic. As I continued the return I passed the covered market which was now winding down. The tomato section was the largest with mounds of the crop around. For all the tomatoes there are about at the moment I seem to be eating remarkably little of them. There was even a section for burst or overripe tomatoes which I imagine will go to animal feed. There were smaller sections for other vegetables and even clothes but they were scant as I think most traders had packed up and left.

527. There are vegetable plots wherever the land is flat and there is a stream or the lake nearby so they can be watered. Cabbage and greens are the main vegetables at the moment.

As I crossed over the stream flowing into the bay I passed a large vegetable garden. All the gardeners were in white and there was an armed guard watching over them. I had noticed that there was a small prison just across the road from the covered market and I assume these were inmates doing their gardening duty. They waved and I waved back and the guard was not bothered at all. The whole gardening gang seemed very good natured and I am guessing that Nkhata Bay Prison must be a very lenient one for white collar crime or those reaching the end of a more serious sentence.

528. A view of Nkhata Bay with the first peninsula dividing the bay, and the town in two. Mayoka Village Lodge is at the end of the second peninsula.

Once back at Moyoka Village Lodge the sun was starting to get low. I decided to take a few aerial shots of the town and also the lovely location of the lodge itself. It was near enough town to be able to walk and far enough away so you could not hear the bar or the political rally. As the sun went down so had my time in Central Malawi. Tomorrow I cycle up into North Malawi with a gruesome ascent initially up to the town of Mzuzu which is only 45 kilometres away but that involves a 1000+ meter climb back onto the plateau again. I will be back at the lake in 5 days or so.

530. The sun setting over Nkhata Bay and the sun also setting on Section 07. Central Malawi for tomorrow I start Section 08. North Malawi.

Day 90. 07 August. Nkhata Bay Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. Surprisingly, I did not sleep well. I think it was the 4 bottles of cider which was a rare event nowadays. Hugh and Hattie had already left for a long drive to mountains in the far south near the Mozambique border. I took everything I needed for the day and went down to the dining area where I found a table and had an omelette for breakfast. After breakfast I started to write some of the blog while looking out across the calm clear waters of the bay.

520. One of the dugout canoes on Nkhata Bay which were usually paddled by one as they fished in a more subsistence way.

Mayoka Village Lodge was on a very steep hillside. It was built on the side of a spur and it faced north overlooking Nkhata Bay. On the hillside was a warren of rough steps which led down through quirky cabins, most with straw and bamboo roofs, to the waters edge. There were about 15 cabins and nearly every one was unique. Most were not ensuite as there were composting toilets and urinals which both needed special instructions. There were also a few showers dotted about the hillside between the chalets and toilets. At the bottom of the complex was a larger bar/dining room and chill out area which were covered in tables and loungers. Below this was the jetty with more lounges and chairs and also a selection of kayaks, SUPs and snorkelling masks which could be borrowed free of charge for the residents. I was planning to use them all tomorrow but today I wanted to relax and get up to date with the blog.

521. The jetty at Mayoka Village Lodge, a reasonably priced lodge with a bohemian vibe made up from many rustic cabins and a central bar/dining/relaxing area.

I sat at the table occasionally looking across the bay to see the other people using the kayaks and SUP’s and also watching the fishermen in their dugouts and fishing boats coming and going in and out of the bay. In the depths of the bay was a small port and loads of restaurants where their catch was landed. Nkhata Bay is something of a tourist mecca both for tourists on overland trips in their own transport or backpackers using public transport, and also for many Malawians, especially for those who live in the city of Mzuzu just some 50 kilometres to the NW up the escarpment.

522. The dining and relaxing area of Mayoka Village Lodge was very quiet and relaxing and right beside Lake Malawi.

Mayoka Village Lodge was very quiet and peaceful as it lay outside the main hub of the small town. It was the perfect setting for me and the decking of the restaurant was a great place to write. With the odd break it took me all day but I was finished and completely up to date but the time the sun set at 1750 in the evening. I could look forward to messing about on the water tomorrow.

Day 089. 06 August. Ngala to Nkhata Bay. 124 km. 9 Hours. 810m up. 810m down. I left early and managed to get away before 0700 and then cycled through the small village which was coming to life. The sun was already well above the horizon. In the fields people were already at work tilling their plots which were mostly rice and cassava. The road was busy with people. Women were walking with bundles on their head or going to get water, and both men and women were sauntering along the road with their digging hoes slung over their shoulder heading off to the fields. Those already in the fields were busy tilling. They would swing their primitive digging hoes high above their head and then swing it into the earth detaching a chunk of it and which they would pull towards them turning it over. It looked hard work but with 3 or 4 members of the same family progress was fast even on the hard baked rice paddy fields, which were dry.

513. Around Ngala and Kasitu the field to West of the road where well watered by streams and rivers and were ideal for rice cultivation.

When I got to the fishing village of Kasitu, the fishermen had already landed, bringing in the catch. I am sure they went out in the very early morning either to retrieve their nets they put out the previous evening or to cast their nets as the dawn was breaking. Around each boat there was a small crowd of perhaps 15 people and they were all holding small bowls waiting for a share of the catch. I am not sure how the distribution works and whether it was shared out among the families, immediate and cousins, of the fisherman or whether it was a straightforward commercial transaction with cash for fish. There were many locals already on the road, of all ages, who were returning home with small fish in bowls and slightly larger fish, about the size of a small banana, threaded on string. One man had two larger fish about the size of an arm and he proudly held them up and shouted Mcheni, a much favoured meal. From this beach at Kasitu I then climbed a small sharp hill to the market of Kasitu, just beyond the fishing village. Here there were many market stalls and large racks for drying the smaller fish, which I had seen in markets all over Malawi and even Zambia, and cassava. Like all the villages it was over in a flash and I was soon free wheeling down the other side back into the homesteads which were lining the road in a continuous row.

On the way out of Kasitu, I bought bananas from an old lady heading into the market with a basket of bananas on her head. I would have bought a lot more, but she didn’t have change for 5000 Mal Kwacha, which is 2 pounds. So I only bought the remaining change I had, which was five bananas. They were small but very flavoursome and sweet and perhaps the best I have had yet. I stopped soon afterwards and ate them all. They do not fare well if kept for too long bouncing around in my warm basket panier.

I continued heading north passing village after village. Most started on a beach where there was a small fishing hamlet and then stretched up a gentle hill to a ridge where there were market stalls selling vegetables, always featuring the omnipresent tomato. Between the small ridges were streams and the occasional rivers. I must have passed over a small bridge every 3-5 kilometres as the water courses made their way down from the mountains and plateau to the west and flowed to the lake. The rivers were not big at the moment and some were barely flowing in this dry season but I think many were fed by springs which leaked their water stored in aquifers along the base of the mountains. The waters were diverted into fields and used for extensive irrigation, especially in the rice fields.

514. One of the larger rivers and streams flowing from the mountains into the lake. I think this was the River Dwambazi

On land that was not suitable for rice then cassava dominated the cultivation. They were grown on high ridges or mounds. Once the mound was made, and they were sometimes nearly a meter high and a good meter across, cassava sticks were pushed into the raised soil, with 8-12 per mound. These took root and then sprouted and grew into small bushes some 2 metres high. As they grew they produced tubers which were then harvested about a year after planting. They were very drought tolerant and were an important part of the diet here it seems.

515. Looking west from the road to a cassava field. Note the huge mounds where sticks of cassava are taking root and which eventually grow into tuber bearing shrubs like those at the back of the field.

As I travelled along the side of the lake it seemed like something of a Garden of Eden. Its flat lands between the small ridges were perfect for rice, the lake provided small fishes and some larger fishes for protein. The green mountains to the west provided a reliable supply of water for irrigation. It was no wonder the area was quite densely populated compared to the more spartan highlands. The homesteads along here were slightly more wealthy with larger bungalows, mostly with tin roofs and goof verandahs. Nearly every village also had a small mill and they were all working as I went past with a diesel engine pulsing away turning the mill which was dehusking rice or turning maize kernels into flour. It seemed a very egalitarian society with each household similar to the next and the only difference being the work that the members input.

However as I travelled north I also passed a lot of large sugar fields. They were too large for individual farmers and were owned by a corporation. There were some smaller fields and in some of the villages I passed “cane farmers association” signs on buildings where local smaller farmers could band together and negotiate a better price to sell and transport their produce to the large corporation who had vast fields of cane. I did not see where the sugar mill was but presume it was nearby and would process all its own cane and that of the local farmers.

After a good few hours the mountains to the west got closer and closer, squeezing the large plain between them and Lake Malawi into a narrower and narrower strip until there was little land for rice. Here cassava was the main crop and there were plots of it everywhere. There were still many streams but they were steeper now and the land on each side was not irrigated anymore for vegetable plots. The fishing villages were still plentiful here. There seemed to be a near continual beach the whole way up the coast here and a few more upmarket resorts and many downmarket guesthouses and lodges. It had a tropical feel and it was difficult to remember that this was freshwater of a large inland lake.

516. A field of maturing cassava in front of a homestead house surrounded my large mango trees. Behind are the green forest clad hills of the South Viphya Forest Reserve

After the small town of Chintheche the road, which was in much better condition and slightly busier headed inland and started to climb. I had been going for about 5-6 hours by now and my legs were getting tired and it was hot and humid. There were a few significant climbs which tested me. Here the homestreads were far less frequent and there were occasional gaps. As I climbed it got greener and greener. The homes were not so substantial now and many had grass roofs again. They were often surrounded by large mango trees which were not trimmed or coppiced at all. I think they were there partly for the shade they provided in addition to the fruit. The fruit they provided would have completely overwhelmed a homestead and I am sure in season the markets are as full of mango as there are of tomatoes` now.

517. After Chintheche the road climbed into the Ngazi Hills and was covered in a thick jungle like forest which was impenetrable.

At one stage the homesteads stopped altogether and I was into thick jungle. It was very dense and covered in vines. I don’t think it would have been possible to have walked through it without a machete as it was so dense. The canopy here was high and thick also, so thick it covered over above the road so I was now in a green tunnel. It continued like this for a few kilometres and it was so dark I considered switching on my back bike light so the infrequent traffic would see it. It was the first bit of proper jungle I had been in all trip and it must rain here more frequently, or the land was moist with springs.

It suddenly ended in a rubber plantation. There were tens of thousands of rubber trees planted in neat rows and they were all quite mature and many were being tapped. This rubber plantation went on for nearly 10 kilometres with a large factory towards the northern end. I am not sure if the factory was processing the collected latex or also milling timber from the rubber trees which had come to the end of their sap supplying days and were harvested as the area was replanted. The plantation was very efficiently run and the trees were planted in long straight rows and each sector was numbered with the size, planting date and other data.

518. After the thick forest around the Ngazi Hills but before Nkhata Bay the land had been cleared for and extensive rubber plantation with secondary timber production.

Not long after the rubber plantation there was a gentle downhill to the junction at Nkhata Bay. One branch, the main road, continued NW up to Mzuzu, while the other branch headed down to the bay itself which was a glorious 4 kilometre descent, peppered with bone shaking rumble strips in the tarmac road. It took me about 15 minutes to freewheel down this, thinking what a slog it will be to return in a few days time. I soon got to the first of a few lodges I considered to recoup at and do some admin work. It was called Soul Rebel Backpackers but it had a false Reggae Vibe and was not that cheap and a bit noisy. The next was Mayoka Village which was further on and it involved a descent into the bustling town itself which was a thriving tourist hub getting soiled by its own popularity and then a killer climb up a short steep hill. Mayoka Village Lodge was nice and full of overlanders in 4×4’s spending time chilling after a national park, or after a few days driving, but the rooms were not that great. I then tried the adjacent Butterly Lodge and it was much the same but only slightly cheaper and more ramshackle and chaotic and was a locally run not-for-profit concern. In the end I returned to Mayoka Village and took a room there with 4 bunk beds, being assured I would be the only one in the room. The shower was down a steep slope and the toilet up a steep slope.

519. The busy junction above Nhkata Bay was a bustling market town. Lake Malawi was just 4 km to the east here down a steep road to the bay itself.

I was just moving all my bags in when I heard “Hello James” it was Hattie and Hugh whom I met on the disappointing game drive at South Luangwe a good 10 days ago. They were a very switched on English couple with their own 4×4 camper they had prepared and shipped from the UK to Durban. It was great to see them and compare notes over the last 10 days. They were completely bowled over by Malawi and were absolutely raving about their time here and vastly preferred it to Zambia. I had a much needed shower in a cubicle with an open air view down to the lake and washed my clothes in the wonderful hot water as the sun went down and it got dark as there was a power cut. After that I joined Hugh and Hattie for dinner for a great end to the day. I was tired though and barely perky enough to keep up with the bright conversation.

Day 088. 05 August. Nkhotakota to Ngala. 92 km. 7.5 Hours. 550m up. 540m down. I slept well and went for breakfast at 0700. Frank had already raked the entire beach as the sun was coming up. After the great breakfast the wind had dropped sufficiently for me to take some aerial photos. After that, I packed and then I was ready to go by 9 o’clock. By this stage two fishing boats had returned just round the corner from the beach and they were surrounded by locals as the catch was getting distributed.

504. Two fishing boats having just landed in the morning near Nkhotakota Safari Lodge. They are quickly surrounded by people with small bowls taking away the smallest fish.

My first task was to cycle up the 4 km of sandy track to the main road again. The large pile of bricks that had been ready to be fired previously was actually being fired as I passed. When I cycled past it and there were 2 guys monitoring it making sure there was a big flame at the bottom and that all the channels were full of wood and burning well. They had a big pile of wood beside them which they could feed into the channels when it started to burn down a bit. I noticed that there was only one side that they were putting the wood into and the other side was totally sealed up. I supposed the worst thing for them was to only partially fire the bricks and having to do it all again, wasting huge amounts of hard to come by firewood.

Once back on the main road I turned north and headed up the main town of Khotakota. There were few churches on the 10 or so kilometres I passed but quite a few mosques and this culminated in a huge mosque on the southern fringe of the town. It was in a large fenced compound of green well watered grass. There was not only the mosque which I reckon could probably seat 1000 but a few other buildings and a madrasa or religious school. and even a nice play park for children with swings and slides. The whole complex looked enticing and for kids it would have been a highlight.

As I went through Nkhotakota I had to be alert. It was almost chaotic. There were a few vehicles but it was mostly motorbikes, bicycles and pedestrians all over the road. There was no danger as everything was moving slowly and everyone was polite and considerate and I had to strive to be also. One large lorry went past with a 20 metre flat trailer. The first half was full of people sitting on sacks and the second half had three cows whose feet were bound together lying on the wooden boards as if they were asleep. There were about 5 goats standing beside them. I thought they were off to market. However, at the north edge of town I got to a police road block and as usual had a quick chat with the police who were always curious about my journey. The lorry was just ahead taking on more passengers and I asked him if the cows were dead or not. He said he had just questioned them and they were new farmers who had just got some land and were taking these animals up to the farm to start breeding them.

505. The large flatbed lorry with the 3 cows and 5 goats tied up as the new farmers travelled with these purchases to a new farm they were setting up.

The road north of Nkhotakota was very potholed with a very ragged edge down to the verge. Sometimes the strip of tarmac was just a meter wide. As the road was so quiet I could go from side to side trying to keep on the tarmac strips. Cars had to go slowly, especially the crammed small estate cars which were so overloaded their clearance even on the best sections was only 10 centimeters. They often bashed their spoilers. When a larger lorry came I moved right over onto the verge to give them as much space to avoid potholes as possible. The road continued like this for most of the day with small single track bridges over the frequent streams which must have been tested by some of the lorries.

506. Following the undulating ridge as it dropped down to cross a river before climbing again. This is looking east to the lake as I headed north.

The road went up and down as it followed a long shallow mound or ridge. It just undulated along the top of the ridge and on one side I had the lake and on the other side I had a plain. There was a lot of farming across this vast expansive plain. The churches started to return a bit and soon there were as many churches as mosques again adjacent to the villages on this ridge. After a few hours my breakfast was used up and I stopped at a roadside shack. I had fried cassava. It was 100 Mal kwacha (£0.05) for a small portion of it. I had 4 pieces. It was nice but a bit dry compared to the sweet potato. Soon there were extensive rice fields to my west on the plain and at the same time I noticed that there were more houses with corrugated iron on the roofs as opposed to grass thatch. The rice farmers here obviously got a better return than the maize farmers of the highlands or the cassava farmers here. On the east side though I could see the mantle between the shallow ridge I was on and the lake was covered in large fields of sugar cane. There were even security guards to some of the fields which were run by a corporation called Iisovo. Some of the farmers also seemed to grow sugar cane on a much smaller scale and they obviously sold it to Ilsovo for them to process.

507. I stopped at one village mid morning for some fried cassava which seems to mostly be cooked by men and boys. The cassava was dried than the sweet potatoes.

508. To the east of the road there were some large fields of sugar cane owned by a company called Ilsovo. I did nor see cane crush factory but there must be one.

Sometimes the road went closer to the base of the mountains to the west where the Nhkotakota Wildlife Reserve was. This was the reserve I could not cycle through last week due to elephants. It was very green with the rolling hills covered in large tall green trees and the landscape looked very lush and quite empty from afar. That was in stark contrast to the road which eventually got very busy with lots of pedestrians and lots of motorcycles and bicycles on it. There were not so many cars or lorries, but many people with some of the more dense populations I have seen outside towns and cities. I saw about 6 set ups with compounds with about 10 oil drums, some cut in half with pipes coming off them. It did not look dirty enough to be charcoal operations. I wondered if they could be spirit stills and in the end I was so curious I asked. The men working there said they were brewers. However I cant imagine they needed this set up to make maize beer and perhaps it was spirit they were distilling after all but it looked so unregulated and haphazard that the spirits produced must be highly suspect. On the other hand I cannot imagine the authorities allowing distillation like this and it was in full view of the road so perhaps it was a softer spirit like Nepali raksi they were making, which still has its dangers with methanol.

509. On the other side of the road with the sugar cane plantation was a plain were there was rice and cassava plots and fields.

510. As I neared Dwangwa I passed about 5 operations like this. I later found out they were brewing and distilling a spirit. The primitive set up with oil drums looks very suspect but apparently.

I did get “Give me my manny” a few times today. But it wasn’t anything like the last days. As soon as kids saw me there was an explosion of excitement and they came running shouting muzungu. It was mostly the 3-10 year olds and it was as if Father Christmas had suddenly appeared and they were full of joy and having seen me. Most waved and I waved back but some who made it to the road when I went past tried to high five and I tried to meet their hands as I flew past. A lot of the youth sitting in stalls and shacks whistled as I went past and tried to get me to stop but I ignored them as there was little use in stopping. All in all it was a very social day and similar to a day in rural Zambia.

511. If the homesteads did not have rice or sugar cane they grew cassava, which is seen growing in front of the simple houses which are overshadowed by mango trees.

Eventually, I made it to the town Dwangwa, which was very busy and it lasted for about 3 or 4 km before it thinned out again to return to the near continual hamlets. A bit later I reached Njala where there was a guesthouse I had earmarked beside the road called the Ngala Lake View Lodge. It was very simple and rustic but it surpassed my expectations and I managed to have a hot shower in the otherwise breaking bathroom, and the bed was comfortable. It was 15000 Mal kwacha (£6) and another 6000 (£2) for a chicken and rice dinner which was reasonable. I was now really starting to enjoy Malawi, as I had Zambia, and found the people becoming more and more friendly and welcoming in contrast to the first few days here.

512. Just before Ngala was a fishing village on the beach with racks for repairing nets and drying fish.

Day 087. 04 August. Nkhotakota Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. As the Americans were having early breakfast I also had an early breakfast. I chatted with them for a while, but they were often in prayer or talking about their projects and I did not want to intrude. I then went back to my chalet and sat at the table on the veranda with a coffee facing the waves crashing onto the beach. It was windy but the verandah protected me against the worst of it and the wind kept me fresh. I did a lot of writing, pretty much for the rest of the morning and by the early afternoon when I had done what I wanted to do. I was now free to enjoy the rest of the day.

503. A typical Lake Malawi fishing boat. These boats have 3-4 paddlers powering it or a small sail similar to a show, as pictured in the background.

The Americans had gone and now a group of teachers from Birmingham in the UK had taken their place. The 5 of them were on a short 10 day trip volunteering in some schools. They had finished that and were now spending a couple of days relaxing here before returning. When I told them I had not seen many pupils they said that was because the schools had just finished and would not reopen until after the elections on the 16 of September.

Despite the wind and waves I thought I must go for a swim in the lake. It was a duty. The water was warm but the effect of the wind was cold when I got out. However there was a lot of hot water in the wood fired barrel stove so I had a hot shower and then washed my remaining clothes. In the mid afternoon I sat on the verandah a bit and then went for a snooze. After dinner I spent much of the time planning on where to go next as there were two possibilities when I get to Mzuzu; 1 is on smaller roads NE to Livingstonia then the busy M1 to Karonga, and 2 NW up and up through the Nyika National Park and down to Karonga. I asked the Cairo to Capetown Whatsapp group with its 200 active members and many people said I could now not go through the Nyika National Park on a bicycle as the authorities had forbidden it recently after an elephant killed someone. So Livingstonia it would be which was not as exciting but would save me some huge climbs and would also involve a visit to the fabled Mushroom Farm. I also worked out the route for the next two days to Nkhata Bay which was still 210 kilometres away to the north. I had really enjoyed my stay at the Nhkotakota Safari Camp and it was exactly what I needed to recoup after the last week of cycling from South Luangwe National Park, now some 500 kilometres behind me.

Day 086. 03 August. Salima to Nkhotakota. 99 km. 7.5 Hours. 450m up. 500m down. The lodge gave me a great breakfast and he also let me off a considerable part of the overnight accommodation charge due to the vagaries of the plumbing. I left at 0730 as I had potentially a long day and 100 km to cycle. I wove my way up through the small sandy lanes between shacks to the large church where I had seen 20 women all in white clothes with blue fringes emerging from yesterday. They looked like district nurses or nuns. At the church now there was a service starting and there was singing from inside. It was powerful and simply beautiful singing, something like “Amazing Grace” with a gospel choir. Outside the church I saw some men in white hanging about and I cycled up to them and asked which denomination it was. They said it was the CCAP. I commented on the singing and said it was wonderful and they were all joyful at this comment and invited me to join the service. I would have loved to have done so just to hear more of the choir but was conscious of the 100 km I had to do. I later looked up CCAP and found out it was the Church of Central Africa Presbyterian and grew out of Livingstonia and Blantyre in Malawi and had its roots in the Scottish Presbyterian Church.

491. There were quite a few ponds and rivers on each side of the road between Salima and Nkhotakota. The rivers drained the plateau and flowed from springs to the west.

I made my way quickly back to the bustling junction some 3 km to the west and then took the M5 road heading north. After half a kilometre or so the market stalls started to peter out and I was on the quieter narrow tarmac road with frequent potholes. There were continual homesteads here beside the road as I have seen nearly everywhere so far in Malawi. There were also people walking on the road somewhere too. I usually found it difficult to find a place to have a pee without being overlooked. There were some larger natural ponds, even small lakes, beside the road which must have been formed by the high water table. Here on the plains the hills and valleys leading up the escarpment to the plateau were clearly visible to the west just 10 kilometres away and there must have been a few springs in the region as water stored in these natural aquifers leaked out. Around many of the lily covered ponds were vegetable gardens which must have been watered by hand.

492. Some of the fields in the flatlands between the plateau and the lake were big enough to plough with a tractor which was hired from a cooperative.

While most of the homesteads were tilled by hand I came across one farmer with a larger field who had hired a tractor for the day from an agricultural collective in the village to the north. It was ploughing 3 furrows at a time. I chatted with the farmer while his adult son was operating the tractor and he explained he was going to plant maize here which seemed to be the norm. The road now was wide gravel and had been upgraded in preparation for tarmac. Pretty soon I about 20 kilometres from Salima I met the tarmac and it was a dream to cycle on. It was smooth, flat and the wind was now behind me and I was flying along. I noticed a huge building to the east. I could not work out what it was and asked someone. It was a sugar cane crush plant and not long afterwards I came across large sugar cane fields with crops which were quite tall and I think ready for harvest. At nearly all the 6-7 rivers I crossed which still had a small amount of water flowing in them there were ladies doing their washing and vegetable gardens along the side where they could be watered easily. The plots all looked very organized.

493. I crossed a number of rivers between Salima and Nkhotakota, perhaps 7 in all, which flowed down from the plateau and were fed by springs as they flowed east into the lake

I had seen many roadside signs for ‘doctors’ since arriving in Malawi. The signs always looked magical with fumes and potions escaping from bottles or people flying on broomsticks. They were often outside small shacks and I tried to peer into their yards. These were obviously witch doctors to which some of the population would turn to when they had problems or ailments. The tradition still seemed quite strong despite well over 100 years of missionary re-education.

494. Since coming into Malawi I have seen quite a few signs for ‘doctors’. I would not hesitate to guess Dr Chiwanda is a traditional doctor specialising in witchcraft.

As it was Sunday there were many people going to church. Everyone was very well dressed and the women looked very fine in their best garments all with nice bags or baskets. Their dresses were often quite voluminous with puffy shoulders and elaborate twists and twirls. Even the hats and headdresses were magnificent. They had obviously gone to great lengths to create their costumes. In many of the churches I passed there was joyous singing but nothing compared to the choir of the CCAP church as I left the lodge in Salima. Most of the singing I heard now was more ‘hallejulah’ type songs.

496. I stopped to have some fried sweet potato for lunch, dipped salt (top right) and flavoured with chilli sauce (top left).

By midday I was hungry and stopped at a quiet homestead to try the fried sweet potato I had seen everywhere. It was cooked in a bowl of oil over a fire and when ready placed at the side to drain and keep warm. It was delicious, especially with some salt and chili relish. As usual a group of kids quickly arrived and were jumping with excitement. They all wanted me to take their photo. I did one and showed it to them and this sent them into a frenzy of acting and posturing. I had heard far less “Give me my manny” today amidst the many excited shrieks of “Muzungo” which they would shout, with one homestead alerting the next as I cycled past.

495. Whenever I stop kids come running up chanting ‘Muzungo’ and ‘give me my manny’. As a rule I dont photograph them but I already had the camera out and they insisted.

Well over half way I started to see rice fields and suddenly this was the dominant crop with large areas of the flat plain set aside for it. I assume that there was plenty of water coming down the streams and rivers to irrigate the area in the rainy season. Pretty much at the same time I noticed more and more men in long gowns with circular caps on and women with headscaves. The mosques soon started to outnumber the churches and there were lots of them before long. I guess each could seat about 100 people and they were at least every kilometre and sometimes half that. I don’t know if the rice growing and the increase in Islam were related or not. I don’t think so. It is more likely that as I moved closer to the lake so there was a greater influence of Islam as it would have spread down the lake in historical times from traders with boats.

497. As I passed the large village of Benga there were some large areas which were used to cultivated rice. The population was denser here with a strong Muslim presence.

Virtually all the houses I had seen in Malawi have some sort of porch by the entrance. Some were quite elaborate where people could sit under but others were just over the door. I see people often take their shoes off to go inside a room or house as they do all over the world except for the UK. I think the porch was a kind of half way house where you could leave your muddy shoes and continue barefoot. In many of the poorest areas at least half of the people were already barefoot, especially the children and the older ladies.

499. Nearly all the houses in Malawi had a balcony or verandah similar to this one at the least. I think shoes are not really allowed in the house and are left outside.

498. The road was very variable between Salima and Nkhotakota with long good wide gravel sections waiting to be tarmacked and some excellent new tarmac. However there was also some pot-holed old road as seen here yet to be upgraded.

As I neared Nkhotakota I reached a large brown lake on my west side to the north of the small town of Benga, where there were some very simple lodges. It was the Chia Lagoon and its waters were very brown. There were some fishing boats on it so there must have been fish in it. I cycled past it for about half an hour crossing a bridge where there was a river connecting it to the much bluer waters of Lake Malawi which I was now seeing for the first time. In this wind it was full of white horses. There was still rice here but there was now also a lot of cassava growing on small mounds. They were tubers which developed in the roots of small shrub type plants.

500. The closer I got to Nkhotakota the more mosques there were sometimes every 500 metres and they completely outnumbered the churches.

At last after some 95 kilometres I reached the turnoff to the Nkhotakota Pottery, which is a more expensive campsite and lodge on the shores of the lake. It was too salubrious for me but there was a much touted alternative just a bit further called the Nkhotakota Safari Lodge and it was my earmarked destination. At the sign for it there was a phone number so I gave it a call as it was 4 km away down an earth lane. They had a cabin and it was £25 so I cycled down. It was a bumpy ride and I was realising I would have to come back in 2 days. I passed a couple of hamlets, one with a brick making homesteader who was just about to fire an enormous pile of bricks, with wood already placed in the channels under the pile which was also insulated. Just beyond was the lodge

501. A tall pile of bricks covered in straw and mud insulation ready to fire with wood already in place in the channels at the bottom and more wood stacked outside to feed in once the first lot was burnt.

I went in and pushed the bike across the sandy yard to the reception. Just beyond were the waves crashing onto a long sandy beach. Frank was at the bar/dining room/ reception area and was one of those people every employer dreams of having. He was affable and tried to please everyone and was hardworking. I think he was the heart and soul of the staff and would be difficult to replace. He showed me a room which had a verandah and looked straight onto the beach and waves. There was quite a breeze and it whistled through the cabin. Frank said the wind was predictable every year and was called the “Mwela”. It was exactly as I had hoped for. I settled in and then went for a late lunch. I wrote a bit of the blog but as I was here tomorrow also on a day off I postponed most of it. After dinner I returned down the dark beach with stars filling the sky and had an early night

502. The beach just outside my cabin on the shores of Lake Malawi at Nkhotakota. It was windy in the afternoon so the waves were quite big.

There were about 10 Americans staying here who were from an organisation called Y-Malawi. They were so well dressed and discussed everything in such an earnest manner I thought they were Mormons initially. They were not, but they were Christian volunteers who have come here to spread the word of Jesus and work with the existing Christian denominations here to empower and protect women and enable sustainable development. A well meaning Christian NGO essentially acting as a modern day missionary, which I am sure in the long term does more good than harm especially if helping women and halting child marriage.

Day 085. 02 August. Chankhungu to Salima. 53 km. 4 Hours. 310m up. 990m down. I got up at 0630 and packed and was away by 0700 hoping to get some breakfast on the way. Chankhungu was already busy with stalls already set up. I guess having a stall here is a very social job and the stallholders were always chatting to each other and customers. However I had no time to chat with anyone as I still had the rest of the climb. It was another 100 metres of ascent over a couple of kilometres. The sun was quite low still but where it shone on the homesteads it lit them up with an orange glow and was quite photogenic. In fact I noticed yesterday how clear the air is up here compared to lower down in the valleys. There was a brighter light to the day and everything was well illuminated. It was also easy to see the homesteads and the fields as there were so few trees about.

485. Even at 0700 in the morning the market in Chankhungu starting to bustle with vegetable saleswomen and a few men.

Almost immediately I got to a police checkpoint. This was the first of about 6 today. One every 10 kilometres or so, as yesterday. The police seemed to pull taxi type cars, crammed minibuses and lorries over. I don’t know what they were looking for specifically as everything was overcrowded and the vehicles were generally all in bad shape. I don’t think there was an objective scale to measure such things and it was perhaps up to the policeman’s discretion if something had been violated or not. Certainly none of the policemen seemed malnourished.

486. The hamlets and homesteads even beside the road are very poor and few have corrugated iron roofs with most having to make do with grass thrown on in an untidy manner.

The children were out in force again and as I slogged up a hill they rushed to greet me. “Manny” “Give” and “Give me my Manny” had now completely replaced the Zambia “How are you”. It meant I did not have to take my hand off the handlebar to wave which always made me wobble at slow speeds. Then I realized something. I had not seen a single child in uniform going to school. I had passed signs for schools but they were all very faded and in disrepair. None were newly whitewashed with the school mission statement and motto proudly written at the bottom. It dawned on me that it was a Saturday but for the last two days since Chipata the only Schoolchildren I saw on the roads were in Zambia. I will make a point of looking for them on Monday.

487. Where the land was steeper the furrows were cut so they contoured the hillside to prevent erosion in heavy rain. Every 10 furrows or so there was also a large drainage bank to lead water off the hill if it overwhelmed the furrows above it.

488. Wherever there was water available the farmers planted neat vegetable gardens with tomatoes, potatoes, casava, onions, pepper and eggplants. Often it was watered by hand.

The day’s cycle was really something of a luxury as after the initial hill there were just a few more climbs and huge amounts of downhill. I sped down these at speeds of up to 50 km per hour looking for potholes 100 metres ahead. Generally the road was good and at these speeds I could go in the main carriage way rather than creep along the damaged verge. I would look at the day’s odometer and then check it 15 minutes later and it was a good 5 kilometres more. In some of the villages I could speed through at 30 km per hour and I was passing the stalls and shops so quickly no one noticed until I was well past, and only then I heard whistles and shouts to attract my attention. I freewheeled for at least half the day’s distance until the descent petered out on the plain beside the lake, which was still a good distance away and I did not see it.

489. The beginnings of a brick. The homesteaders would start by digging piles of loose red earth and then wet it and stamp it into a paste as seen here. It would then go into forms and which would be tipped out to sun dry before being fired to harden.

Once on the plain the wind increased and it was strong. It was largely a headwind but it was also coming from the south. If it was like this tomorrow it would be marvellous but today I had to fight into it. I was not on my own as there were many cyclists on the road and most of them did not have gears. As I neared Salima there were more and more cycle taxis on the road, many with women as passengers and these women often had a child on their lap.

490. The M14 road between Lilongwe and Salima with an excellent section of verge as it makes the final descent from the plateau to the plains beside Lake Malawi.

Down here on the floor of the rift valley essentially and beneath the plateau I had just come down from it was much warmer. Banana trees were rife and every homestead had a few. There were a few more trees also but there was also quite a lot of charcoal for sale and I noticed that around the homesteads the mango trees were heavily pruned. I even saw people attacking the vast stump of a baobab tree in the hope they might be able to shave enough slithers of it to cook on. It was also busier down here in the valley as I approached Salima. I don’t know if that was because it was the outskirts of a town or that the soil was better here and water more abundant so it could support a greater density of population. I had a lodge already looked out, It was the Blissful Lily Guesthouse and it was a bit beyond the turnoff to Nkhotakota I would take tomorrow so I cycled on

The lodge was down a warren of small lanes, so much so I am surprised anyone finds it. It was the usual disappointment and my hopes of chatting in a shady garden with expats or other travellers was soon crushed as I saw the dusty yard. The last time I had seen a Muzungo was at South Luangwe National Park a week ago. The room was not cheap at £25 and the shower did not work. However it was good enough for me to spend the afternoon at, as it was just 1100 in the morning, and for me to catch up with the blog and rest my legs for the 100 km tomorrow to Nhkotakota. I spent all afternoon writing the blog while the hapless plumber was in and out of the room trying to sort the shower out. By the time I finished all my admin work the shower was still not working so I asked for a bucket of hot water. I also earmarked a place to stay in Nkhotakota tomorrow for at least 2 nights. It was the Nkhotakota Safari Lodge and apparently it was right on a beach on the fringe of the lake. It was great having the backlog of the blog and admin duties up to date for a change

Day 084. 01 August. Chitedze to Chankhungu. 59 km. 6 Hours. 620m up. 560m down. I left the very pretentious Shed Hotel at 1000 after writing for a couple of hours. My immediate task was to cycle the remaining 10 or 15 kilometers into Lilongwe and then emerge from it on the other side on the arterial M1 which I would then follow north for about 10 km before I headed east out of the city and towards the lake on the M14. I was not looking forward to navigating through Lilongwe. I cycled largely on the earthen mantle beside the road as the tarmac verge was largely destroyed. It was a little slower and I had to watch out for other cyclists, pedestrians and even donkey carts however it was so much less stressful than riding on the road. Had I ridden on the road I would have had to have leapt down from it from time to time when it got too congested and a lorry came along. There was no real start to Lilongwe and it was just that there were more and more huge sheds and some large compounds behind brick or cement walls where a company would have its administration offices. There was quite a plant business with many horticulturalists selling ornamental plants in bags. Some had been here for a while and the roots were through the bag and into the soil it sat on.

There were a number of checkpoints by different authorities like military, police, revenue and the council ones. I stopped and chatted at some and just cycled through others with a thumbs up. The road became congested towards the centre but was moving slowly. I noticed a few lorries heading out of town with perhaps 20 bicycles and riders on the back. The bikes all had frames and I think these lorries were heading west specifically to carry the bikes which had come to drop off the sacks of charcoal. The charcoal sells for about 30,000 Mal Kwacha (£12) a sack and I am sure a lot more in the markets of Lilongwe allowing the cyclists enough profit to have a leisurely uphill journey home to pick up the next load of 4 sacks. I at last got onto the M1 which I was delighted to see had an excellent verge and a cycle/pedestrian way outside that. I followed it north for about 10 kilometres until I was past various numbered sectors of the city. The M1 road was not as bad as I feared it would be. After 10 km I waited at traffic lights and then turned east onto the M14. It was a steep climb up from the arterial M1, which continued to Tanzania, but eventually I was at the top and heading east. This M14 was busier than I expected but I was through Lilongwe.

I did not want to linger in the city. It was essentially just a day to link up two more rural sections on smaller tarmacked roads. I had expected Lilongwe to be unappealing but it was far less than that. It lacked any charm whatsoever. It was devoid of any joy and happiness and people just seemed to be concentrating on earning a living so they could eat or the lucky ones pay for a mortgage. It was very sad that the poorer Malawians who live here have to endure this hand to mouth lifestyle to survive and I am sure many long for the villages where they grew up. I was concentrating hard on getting through the traffic and was so uninspired by everything I saw I did not take any photos until I was well past the sprawl. I think like many cities that are created to be a capital city where there was just a small town before never gels into a thriving organic city and just becomes a soulless administrative hub. Dull Ankara in Turkey over the thriving Istanbul is a great example and I am sure it is the same with Lilongwe and Blantyre. Except for large warehouses I did not see any buildings over 2 stories.

Once I was through the city and off the busy M1 I could breathe a sigh of relief. It was after midday now and I was hungry so I stopped at a row of local restaurants at the start of the M14 for some nshima, greens and chicken. It was good to sit and relax in the plastic seat and table in the very basic restaurant after having negotiated Lilongwe. As I watched the road from the restaurant I was disappointed to see just how busy the road to Salima was. People had told me this was a quiet road but it did not look it, but perhaps it was still too close to Lilongwe. After the usual nshima, greens and chicken I set off east.

479. After the totally charmless urban sprawl of the uninspiring Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi, it was nice to be back in the countryside on the east side of it.

The road did quieten down marginally as I travelled east. There were lots of small minibuses which were crammed to the maximum with luggage hanging out of the bag from the tailgate which could not close properly. These minibuses were slow as they ground their way up the hill with their maximum load. There were also lorries with a flatbed at the back and small sides which were often crammed full of people and their goods. I am not sure if these are lorries returning with an empty load or lorries which operate like buses on a rough timetable and take a fare per passenger. It seemed to be the cheapest way to get to the local markets with your produce.

As I was freewhelling down a hill I noticed someone unusual run across the road to a well dressed man on the other side who was walking up the hill. Initially I thought it was a mad man. Then I noticed he was virtually naked except for a loincloth, head dress and ankle bells. He was painted in ash and was grey. On his arms and legs were various symbols and in one hand he carried a tambourine type instrument and a small sack of things in the other. I would have still thought he was a mad man until I saw another coming over the road to the well dressed man and then I realized these were witch doctors and had come to put a spell on the man or exercise some demons he might have previously told them he had. It was an extraordinary scene and as I was flying down the hill I did not stop and get a photo which I was sorry about. I was surprised that witchcraft still existed in such a public place so close to a capital city.

480. It was quite undulating on the farmed plateau with distant villages lost to the fast pace of change in the Western World and China.

The further I got from Lilongwe the less busy the road got but it was never quiet. As I travelled east the homesteads returned also and there was almost a permanent line of them beside the road. Occasionally they were a bit denser and a hamlet existed and every 5 kilometres there was a market village with stalls beside the road. They were selling tomatoes, onions, cabbage, potatoes, cassava and sugar cane. In each village there were also young men frying chips and cassava on large steel plates with a bowl in the middle which was heated over a fire. They smelt tasty and I am sure I will try some soon.

482. On the hard climb from the Lumbadzi River to the village of Chankhungu I passed a near continual line of homesteads.

The homesteads were very poor generally with mud brick houses under a grass roof. Some had a corrugated roof but most just had grass and were not neatly thatched so I am sure many leaked in the rainy season. There were many more vegetable plots about now compared to Zambia and they looked well tended. Many were not fenced off from the goats so I am not sure if they are guarded or whether the goatherd has to pay compensation if a herd of goats destroys someone’s tomato crop. I also saw many tarpaulins beside the road with a white powder drying in the sun. When I asked what it was they said nshima, which I thought was maize flour. However it seemed strange it was drying as I would have thought the maize kernels were dry as they were milled.

In every village, hamlet or even just the line of homesteads children swarmed out to meet me. Even some younger teenagers. They all said the same thing “Give me my manny”. Sometimes they just said “give” or “manny”. It was very predictable and sometimes I wondered if their mothers at the homesteads told their children “Here comes a Muzungu, quick go and ask him for money” I could see them running out of the homesteads desperate to intercept me before I passed. I always disappointed them by saying “no Money” and cycling on. The women, especially the younger ones, also asked for “manny” quite frequently but the men seldom did. But for the children it was the only contact I had with them. It was sometimes quite sad to see their sheer excitement and expectation when I approached, because they all really seemed to think I would stop and give them all money like a fabled Father Christmas, but I couldn’t.

481. The Lumbadzi River was one of many rivers which drained the plateau and flowed into Lake Malawi. It was still running with clear water in this dry season but you can see the raging torrent it must be in the rainy season.

The road was not easy with plenty of ups and downs. The verge continued to be very erratic and where it did exist it was quite potholed. For a cyclist it was virtually unusable and the locals either went on the yellow line and just moved over if they were tooted at by an impatient lorry or they went on the bumpy earthen path beside the road if there was one. Some of the ups were quite steep and the last one was a killer with nearly 300 metres of ascent up from the Lumbadzi River, which still had a trickle of clear water. Luckily the only lodging in the area was just over half way up this climb at the small town of Chankhungu. I made it there for about 1700 and found the lodge. It was very basic with 7 rooms around a courtyard. Each room was just big enough for a rough double bed and that was all that was in it. Outside there were two toilets in the yard. One for men and one for women and both were just a deep pit with a concrete slab with a hole in it covering the top. There did not seem to be any running water anywhere. However she did change the sheet for me when I arrived and the price of the room was 7000 kwacha (£2.50). The alternative was camping but I think it would be quite difficult to find a secluded place and if anyone spotted me I would be surrounded by kids in no time and have to put up with endless pleas for “manny”

483. The village of Chankhungu where I spent the night in a rustic lodge. There was a vibrant market here as most roadside villages in Malawi.

As it was getting dark I wandered into the large village. The market place was thriving with perhaps 200 women still selling their vegetables, many displayed on small upturned buckets or laid out on pieces of cloth. It was vibrant but I knew if I took photos I would attract even more attention. I crossed the road and walked back down a small street parallel to the main road and this seemed to be the street of grocers, material shops, hardware, barbers, outdoor street food and a single rustic restaurant. I went in and the very friendly owner served me some goat, greens and nshima. She kept loading my plate with the greens. It cost me 2500 kwacha, or £1 for the meal. After wandering through the village again I noticed all the teenage boys pointing at my legs and saying Muzungo. I dont think it is an insult, like nigger, just a exclamation of surprise and it was said without malice. Back at the lodge it was dark and I squeezed the bike into the room and then plugged in everything to charge in the only socket. I tried to write but was asleep by 2000.

484. The standard Malawi fare. Green vegetables called rep. The white maize meal called nshima and the goat stew which can be changed for chicken or fish, whatever is available that day. I often eat this twice a day and skip breakfast.

Day 083. 31 July. Mchinji to Chitedze. 92 km. 7 Hours. 370m up. 420m down. After a good breakfast I set off at 0900 after saying goodbye to the helpful manager who was setting up for a conference. I sneaked through the bumpy earth lanes of Mchinji to reach the main road, the M12 which would take me to Lilongwe some 110 km away. The main area of the town was already busy with market stalls set up and a throng of people starting their day. I set off down the road out of town and was in the countryside after 10 minutes.

The road was not good. It was narrow and had a yellow line on each side to mark the edge of the carriage way. Outside this was a verge but it was badly potholed and eroded. Rarely the verge was a meter wide and often it has disappeared entirely all the way to the yellow line. Usually this variable verge was a potholed strip with a ragged edge. From the edge there was often a drop of 20 centimetres to the eroded earth mantle along the road with the occasional ramp to go up and down. It was either the earth mantle or the road and you could not chop and change, or escape in the case of two trucks meeting at will. However there were a lot of cyclists on the road with their bikes loaded with goods and they were often much wider than I was and the traffic was reasonably light so I took the road. Without much headwind and with the gentle downhill gradient the road was fast and I was making good time.

467. On both sides of the road were the fields of the homesteads. A few were getting tilled by the farmers, male and female, who were forming furrows with 90 bent spades.

The earth was now an orange red. Almost brick coloured and I have only really seen this red soil in proliferation in Africa. The fallow fields were still littered with the debris of the last harvest and even under this the red earth shone through. However in a few places it had been tilled and then it was striking in its colour. Where the fields were still untilled there were cattle and goats feeding on the stalks and leaves left from the harvest. I did see a few households tilling their fields and it seemed to be the whole family; father, mother and any of the children if they were old enough. I did not see any oxen ploughing but did see people with digging hoes, (or mommaty) which was a heavy spade at right angles to the shaft. With this they would dig each side of the row and scoop the earth up onto the top of the row leaving a furrow. Some of the rows were 100 metres long and they were perhaps 30-80 across a field yet the rows were remarkably uniform, neat and straight.

472. This field was one of a few which had already been tilled by the men and women of the homestead with a digging hoe or mommaty.

Brick making seemed to be prolific here too. All the houses were made of brick and perhaps every 20th homestead was covered in bricks drying in the sun or stacked up waiting to be fired, so they harden and are more weather resistant. Although the houses were brick few seemed to have corrugated iron on the roof and many had grass. The homesteads and the fields were devoid of larger trees and there seemed to be little firewood to fire the bricks. Every tree that did exist was heavily coppiced. I passed a few people attacking large knotty stumps with axes in the hope they could shear off a few shards to burn. Even the mango trees were coppiced, some to the extreme where there was just a tuft of leaves and flowers and which would bear minimal fruit.

468. Virtually every tree was living under threat of being made into charcoal to sell or burnt on the homestead kitchen hearth. Even this benevolent mango had been butchered.

As I cycled I passed a few people selling mice on sticks. I think these mice are caught in the fields in traps, but some in the houses and storage rooms too. The sellers had split open a bamboo, placed the dead mice between the two halves and bound it together again. I passed one man with about 25 he was selling. I don’t know how long ago the first one was caught but I am sure they would go off soon. The price seemed to be 600 for the small ones and 700 for the larger ones. Apparently they are a delicacy here and best grilled, but some enjoy them boiled. I don’t know if this food is born of desperation or is a cultural treat, like a prawn. Certainly the people of Malawi I had seen so far were not malnourished and many of the ladies looked chunkier than their Zambian counterparts, especially the older ones.

469. An increasingly common sight as I cycled east was to come across younger men selling mice which you could buy for 600 kwacha (£0.25). Apparently they are best grilled.

The hamlets continued almost continuously down each side of the road and every now and again, perhaps 10 kilometers or so, there was a market town. These small towns had a few hardware shops and the ubiquitous small groceries but there were also many bike and motorbike repair places beside the road in small rustic stalls made from bamboo. Mostly these market towns were dominated by women with their small stalls selling tomatoes, sweet potatoes and bananas and cabbages. I am sure in the wet season they are full of other produce. There are also many stalls selling sticks of sugar cane and piles of discarded off cuts which the free roaming goats seemed to love. They were quite vibrant and chaotic places. One thing I did notice was that there were far fewer bars with lacklustre men hanging around outside them hoping for a drink.

471. The homesteads were now all made from bricks with some having a grass roof and others a corrugated roof, often covered with grass and bricks to keep it in place.

It was the homesteads which fascinated me the most and many looked quite idyllic surrounded by the vegetable garden and small banana groves. As I went further from Mchinji there were more and more trees appearing. Outside the immediate vicinity of the homestead were the fields and these were becoming more and more tilled. I saw men and women in the fields. Beside many of the homesteads were large poorly built thatched open sided buildings which were very long. It took me a while to figure out this was for drying tobacco and that was only after I saw other large commercial tobacco drying sheds on the north side of the road where tobacco must have been grown in large fields by a landowning company. The smaller farmers on the homesteads must have also grown it and sold it to this larger company.

473. Around the town of Namitete there were many tobacco drying sheds where homesteaders dried their produce before selling it to a dealer.

As I reached Namitete I also saw a huge orchard. I could not work out what this fruit was initially. I thought it was olives. There were hundreds of hectares under cultivation with thousands of trees. In the end I had to ask and I was told it was macadamia nuts. These are very high in oil content so I don’t know if they were pressed or exported to the wholefood shops of Europe and the US. There was a considerable fence round the whole complex so it must have been a valuable commodity.

474. At Namitete there was a huge concern with many hectares and thousands of trees growing macadamia nuts in a vast orchard

One disappointing thing was the interactions with the kids. It usually started with them running up to me shouting what is your name. When I told them the usual reaction would be “My name is so and so” swiftly followed by “give me your money”. It was not only the kids but the women too. If there was a group of more than 4 at least one would shout “give me your money”. I hope this is something lost in translation and what they intended to say was “please can I have some money”. However having heard it at least 100 times today it is starting to go in one ear and out of the other and I cycle on without a wave or even acknowledgement. One man also cycled past me and said “give me your bicycle”. I think this was just a clumsy way of saying “That is a nice bike, I would really like it”. It is not a vibe I was expecting and it might make me feel Malawians are not as proud or self-reliant as the Zambians. The jury is still out on this until I can find out more about it as it is maybe just a greeting which I misinterpreted. I prefer the Zambian “how are you” approach though.

470. The M12 road through Malawi went from the border by Mchinji to Lilongwe, the capital. There were quite a few smaller towns along its 120 km length.

As I neared Msundwe I noticed a few more charcoal sellers. There were trees here and there which farmers must have sold branches off, or made it into charcoal themselves. Apparently a big bag costs about 30,000 Mal Kwacha (£12) beside the road here. It must be more in Lilongwe as I also started to pass more and more cyclists who had 3 or 4 bags strapped to their bike heading east into the capital. These looked enormous loads, so much so it was impossible to cycle uphill with them and the cyclists were pushing their bikes. It looked like hard work and they were straining to do so. On the down hill sections they somehow managed to mount their bikes and cycled down maintaining a balance and occasionally weaving around potholes. The drivers could see this was a difficult task and they were generous with these charcoal bearing cyclists giving them plenty of space and not tooting them to get off the road onto the bumpy verge.

475. As I neared Lilongwe i passed more and more cyclists with huge stacks of charcoal. All were heading to the capital to sell their wares.

I saw a lot of signs for eccentric churches and places of worship. Some were quite amusing as a local pastor with an entrepreneurial twist created a church and hoped for a generous congregation. In a few places it had not worked and all that remained was the faded sign and the church lay in ruins with the grass roof collapsing and the brick walls being weathered back into earth. There were still a lot of the more established types of church and also more and more mosques, each with a crescent on a small tower. I have yet to hear an iman or loudspeaker chant from these short minarets but I am sure as I near Dar es Salam I will hear their evocative and beautiful voices.

477. There were quite a few of the more eccentric denominations on the road between Mchinji and Lilongwe. This was over and above the usual ones and the mosques.

At Msundwe there was a lodge hidden in the back lanes called the Flame Lodge. It was not easy to find it in the maze of small brick lined backstreets. They were so narrow it was like an Arabic souk. As it was getting late in the day people were bringing their cattle and goats back to their yards after a day of grazing. I had to hide in some doorways as herds came past filling the whole lane with horns and hooves. I found the lodge which did look what I was after but all the rooms were already full. The owner suggested I continue for another 16 km to somewhere called “The Shed Hotel”. Google maps said it was a boutique hotel which was worrying but that a room there was £20.

476. The Flame Lodge was in in the brick lined backstreets of Msundwe which were busy with women carrying water and livestock returning home after a day’s grazing.

It was all a gentle downhill to The Shed and I managed it in well under an hour and got there before dusk. They wanted to charge double the Booking.com price and were very reluctant to match it until I said I would just book a room online instead of them directly. The room was large and well designed but badly executed. It was a year old and a lot of the aluminium frames were already jamming and twisting and there were cracked windows everywhere. However the shower worked well and the bed was extremely comfortable. It was a long day but much of it was downhill. It was inevitable I would make comparisons with Zambia and the jury is still out on this, but Zambia as I said will be a hard act to follow.

478. The market town of Msundwe had small shops and stalls lining the main street. I hoped to stay here but the rustic Flame Lodge was full so had to continue.

Day 082. 30 July. Chipata to Mchinji. 32 km. 3 Hours. 220m up. 400m down. As I went to bed early I woke early and was up at 0530 to do the blog. I finished well before 0800 and went down for breakfast which was salad, eggs and white bread. I had two small mechanical issues with the bike which were resolved by tightening up bolts and then I was off at 1030 for the short journey to the border. It was a great run down hill for a couple of kilometres but then I had a long slow climb up gaining some 250 metres as I gained on the border.

As I neared the border the hills got bigger and there were some craggy outcrops about. However the flat valley floor was quite green and well cultivated with fields, now fallow, covering virtually everything flat. The houses here were all brick and there were a lot of artisanal brick making enterprises on many of the homesteads. Although most of the houses had corrugated iron on the roofs there were sometimes large piles of roofing grass bundles stacked up in the compounds, as if these were to be sold.

462. The craggy outcrops on the border with Malawi. The border was on the watershed of the tributaries of the Luangwa River in Zambia and Shire River in Malawi. Ultimately both flow into the Zambezi River.

As I neared the border it got busier and there were a lot of children returning from school. They all seemed very cool and most never returned a wave or greeting. Perhaps I looked like a workman in my high school-visibility top. Many were eating sugar cane stalks, pulling the hard skin from around it with their teeth and spitting it on the road which was covered in the cellulose strips. This exposed the core where the sugary sap was. It probably was not a health food but it is surely better than toffee or cake, and it is the only sweet item in an otherwise frugal, or even spartan, diet which is generally healthy.

Near the border there were many money changers and they all chased me. One younger clean cut man was the first to approach. I told him I would exchange money with him if he sent the others away. If they did not go I would cycle off. He told them and the chattering throng of 10 others all retreated and left us in peace. I had heard that the official rate for Malawi currency is much less than the street rate. For example a US dollar, Euro or Pound can be exchanged for 2.5 times that of the official rate. This man offered me 1,6 times the official rate for Zambian kwacha. I gave him 4000 zambian and he gave me 500,000 Malawi, while the official rate was 300,000. It was a huge pile and I could barely fit the half million in my wallet.

Thereafter I went to the border post and had an incredibly easy exit from Zambia and entrance into Malawi. It was done in two adjacent booths in the same building and the whole procedure took just 10 minutes. After that I was back on the bike and I just rode past all the queuing cars to the front where the customs lady waved me through. Just beyond was a row of small shops and booths selling sim cards for my phone. I went with Airtel again as they were so good in Zambia and everyone said they were the best for Malawi. I chose a proper building rather than one of the plastic booths so there was a counter to place all the sim cards and bits on and a crowd could not form around me. It took almost half an hour to register and set up but in the end I had 65 GB for a month for the price of £10. With that done all my administration chores were done here and I set off down the hill.

I was still not sure which way to go after Mchinji in 12 km. I noticed there were some lodges there and apparently some ATM’s also. I though I would have a short day and stop in Mchinji and try and get a paper map and confirm a route. It was a beautiful run down the gentle slope and it took me well under an hour of easy cycling. The road was quite busy and there were a lot of cyclists. There was no verge at all except for an earthen fringe to the road, but it was often 20-30 centimetres below the road surface with a sharp drop down. It was not a bail out option if two larger vehicles would meet at the point.

464. In Malawi brick manufacture was at least as prolific and artisanal as it was in Zambia with many homesteads involved in it.

There was no noticeable difference from Zambia. The houses were still all made of brick, the fields were mostly unploughed and fallow, although a few in Malawi had been ploughed recently. Perhaps Malawi was slightly more vibrant but I did not really notice this until I was in Mchinji itself and could see the market. Just before Mchinji I crossed a river bed and then climbed up quite steeply to the town itself. There was a market in the centre. Initially there were clothes sellers who had their wares on tarpaulins to stop the dust soiling them. Then a bit further all the banana and tomato sales women who had both small stalls or just a basket on their head. I tried to photograph the scene but was conscious the ladies would not like it.

465. The earth was much redder organised anything I had seen in Zambia and the land was extensively farmed with farmers living in simple brick houses.

I had picked out a lodge, The Green Hill Lodge, probably called that on account it sat at the foot of a green hill. However it was very cheap but very simple. The manager assured me there was hot water but when I tested it there was no water at all, hot or cold. Adjacent to it was another lodge, The MMK Lodge. It was at the opposite end of the spectrum and was very expensive at $60 but it was new and everything worked as it should. I took the room because I did not want to waste time looking for the middle ground in Mchinji. The manager was also extremely helpful and phoned the tourist office to see if they had a paper map of Malawi, which they did. I cycled down to the tiny office to get it and spoke to the lady about my route. One thing I was not sure of was cycling the 35 km through the Nkhotakota National Reserve. She phoned them and relayed the bad news that I could not. Apparently not even motorbikes were allowed as there were elephants there. Other cyclists apparently wait for a lorry to pass and then pay the driver to strap the bike and paniers onto the back and hitch a lift, and the authorities allow this. I also went to the ATM here to get more money out. In the end I had over a million Malawi kwacha in 5000 kwacha (£2) notes and it was a pile some 5 centimeters high when squashed down.

466. The market town of Mchinji was a thriving and vibrant place even in the afternoon. I was able to get everything I needed here.

Not being allowed to cycle through the Nkhotakota National Reserve had huge ramifications on my route choice as I needed a continuous route without resorting to lifts. It meant I had to go to the south or north of this National Reserve. The former meant going the 100 km to Lilongwe, the capital, on a busier narrow tar road and then on more cycle friendly quieter roads for 100 km to reach Lake Malawi. The latter meant small hilly gravel roads to Kasungu and then 100 km on the busy main road connecting Malawi with the rest of the world, and then another 100 km on hilly gravel roads to reach Lake Malawi. I opted for the former and this was probably the easier option but it would not take me through the really remote rural areas of Malawi.

Back at the lodge I probably had the best shower I have had in Africa yet. I noticed everything was high quality and the sheets were expensive cotton with a high thread count. I settled in and wrote the blog finishing it before dinner and then agonised about my route choice again and spoke with the manager. He said I could be in Lilongwe tomorrow and then after that I was on quiet roads and he advised that. It clinched it. Although the lodge was high quality, the food tried but did not match it and it was disappointing. I might have been better eating nshima at the market in a dingy restaurant. I now felt ready to cycle into Malawi and had everything sorted out.

Back

Day 081. 29 July. Jumbe to Chipata. 90 km. 10 Hours. 930m up. 400m down. I got up early in the morning, having slept surprisingly well. I did not linger at the guesthouse for breakfast as I knew it would take ages to prepare and it would not be worth the wait so packed and was off by 0730 having paid the night before. No one was about as I pushed the bike through the dusty yard and into the lane which led past shops, which were opening up, to reach the main road. There was a stronger headwind and a slight climb and it felt like I was cycling in treacle. The sun was in my eyes and the driver’s eyes but there were so few cars I did not think it would matter so did not cross over to the other side.

It was a long few hours as the gentle gradient of the road and the headwind conspired to slow me down considerably and I was only averaging about 10 km per hour. In all the villages I went through I was barely keeping up with the children going to school. There were many market stalls beside the road, mostly with tomatoes and sweet bread rolls, and a few with bananas. I stopped at one and bought 15 small bananas and had about 10 for breakfast. I did not see any papayas now and think I might have climbed above the areas where the trees grew or that they were still ripening here.

456. The extensive plains covered in agricultural hamlets around Jumbe which were all part of the traditional lands of the Chief of Jumbe.

The houses here were built of brick and there was quite an industry of it. Every kilometre I passed was a homestead where there was some artisanal brick production in someone’s compound or an adjacent field. It looked quite a laborious procedure. Firstly the brown clay like earth was piled up in and wetted. Then the brickmakers walked on this mixture thoroughly mixing the water and soil together so it became a glutinous mud. The mud was then placed into small wooden moulds and packed into every corner. The mould was then tipped out and the soft brick was carefully placed in a row of other wet bricks to dry off in the sun for days. During this time it was further stacked so air could flow around it until the brick had dried out. This was just half the process. The next stage involved stacking all these dried bricks into a pile about a meter or meter and a half high and 3-4 metres wide. Within this pile were channels at the bottom where dried logs could be put in until it was packed with wood. I think then the whole pile was then covered with mud and grasses to insulate the top. Then logs in the channels were lit and the dried bricks were “fired” or heated to as high a temperature as possible to bake them hard. During this process they seemed to change colour from brown to an orange red and they were finished. However they still had to be transported to the site and this was done on an ox cart with two bulls pulling the heavily laden cart.

460. A typical homestead now was made of brick under a tin roof. There was often and unfinished building and a pile of loose bricks.

There were bricks everywhere and virtually all the houses were made of brick. The nearer I got to Chipata the more bricks there were and the houses were slightly bigger with 3-4 rooms. In every village there were men with spirit levels assembling houses, binding the bricks together with cement. It was almost a building boom as people changed en masse from the bamboo or mud huts to these new brick houses. In many places half finished houses stood with the 4 outside walls and all the internal walls finished and they were just waiting for a tin roof. Some of these half finished houses and shops looked like they had been in this state for a year or three.

457. Slogging up the ridge after leaving the plain Jumbe was on. On the far side of the ridge (eastern side) was another agricultural plain.

After a few hours of peddling into the wind up the slope I got to the base of a ridge of hills. I now left the extensive plain which were the traditional lands of the Chief of Jumbe and started to climb. Looking back I could see the whole plain was well cultivated and that there were villages scattered across it and not just beside the road. I had seen many signs for primary schools with their aspirational mottos and then a track leading for 6 or 14 kilometres to the schools of some distant cluster of hamlets. There are many many school children here and they seemed very diligent. At a rough guess I would say the children out number the adults and that each couple are having 3-5 children. The children here though are not as in awe of me as the more rural children and some barely wave back when I greet them. The children seemed much more self assured and confident, and cooler.

At the top of the ridge I had to slog up, I freewheeled down the other side for less than I climbed and reached another plain. This one was a bit more undulating and equally well populated. There were a number of crops grown here with the staple of maize just being one of them. I think there was also tobacco grown here in the growing season. Everything now though was parched and then goats and cattle were foraging in the fields. I saw a few more maize granaries in the compounds but also many more places where the smallest merchants in the ladder were buying crops, notably maize, soya, sunflower seeds and peanuts and their quite uniform prices were displayed everywhere.

458. The plain on the east side of the ridge after Jumbe. The haze is from deliberate grass fires. Note the brick houses in the hamlet.

After some 6 hours of continuous cycling I was hungry but had to wait until the village of Kalichelo to find a simple restaurant with nshima, the vegetables called rep, and chicken. I stopped here and ate while watching the thriving village in full flow. There were more and more cars now and hundreds of motorbikes. The tarmac road here was generally OK but there were some quite badly potholed places which motorbikes could weave around but they were often so heavily loaded they were not that nimble. There were a few bicycles with a platform or on the back with a goat tied to it, bleating helplessly as it passed small herds of goats on the roadside. I fear these goats were probably being taken to a market or butchers.

459. The small town of Kalichelo where I had lunch in a simple restaurant.

After the meal I only had about 25 kilometres to go to reach Chipata. The brick industry seemed to get more fervent the nearer I got with some piles of bricks unused and returning to earth in the weather while others were being produced. The houses that were being built were undoubtedly larger and more useful for living in or storing produce in but they totally lacked any character. As I neared Chipata the road got busy and I stopped to put my hi-visibility vest on. On the outskirts of the city I met the Great East Road which I left at Petauke a week ago.

461. Bicycles carried everything from sheet of corrugated iron to goats and pigs. Here is a goat probably on the way to a market or the butcher’s

There was a lot of industry here, there were huge tobacco warehouses, cement plants and flour mills and then lots of shopping complexes with furniture shops, supermarkets, phone and electronic shops. I think Chipata was perhaps the biggest place I had been in since leaving Windhoek and it was certainly the biggest city in Eastern Zambia. As I reached the Great East Road and headed into town I was delighted to see a proper bicycle lane. It was separated from the main carriageway with a row on concrete bollards. It was busy with cyclists and the occasional pedestrian who had been squeezed off the pavement. Where there was a crossroads I had to be a little careful but otherwise I joined the throng of people heading home from work. I cycled for some 5-6 km through the entire centre of the city on the bike lane to reach my chosen guesthouse, the Crystal River Hotel.

Rather surprisingly they were full. The place was busy with larger, taller Africans who all seemed to have an Islamic hat and clothes on. I don’t think it was a conference but there seemed to be many business people here. As Chipata is the gateway to Malawi and vice versa a lot of trade must go through the town. I wonder if the Islamic traders here might be better, or more ruthless, businessmen than their rural Christian counterparts who had not been in business for many many generations. The fact they were all so large, but not fat, meant they had been well nourished down the generations rather than eeking a living off the land as the farmers had.

With this hotel full I continued east down a long hill on the same cycle track to the east side of town to the Easy Does It Lodge. I got there at dusk and they had a large room for 500 kwacha £15. I had the best shower I have had in Zambia and then a large dinner of more chicken and chips. I tried to write the blog but fell asleep so went to bed at 2000 and slept well. I woke at 0500 and wrote the blog in the morning

I had just 15 kilometres to the Malawi border now so I would cross it around midday. I was sorry to be leaving Zambia. The countryside was not spectacular but there was plenty of interest for me in how people lived their lives here. It would have been marvelous if I was here in the rainy growing season to see rural life in full swing. However Zambia did have some extraordinary wildlife especially in South Luangwe National Park and even in the lodge garden at Chirundu and around the Victoria Falls. However what really set Zambia on a pedestal was its people. They were the nicest I had encountered so far and were extraordinarily friendly, polite and respectful. I don’t think it was because of the Christian principles which the missionaries had spread. I think that these missionaries had already found this friendliness when they arrived 100 years ago or so and their gospel fell on good ground and was readily adopted. Zambia society is very traditional and the 10 commandments would have been alive and well here before the missionaries arrived. I will miss Zambia and hope I revisit it sometime in my life.

Day 080. 28 July. Wildlife Camp to Jumbe 53 km. 5 Hours. 270m up. 200m down. I would have loved to have spent more time at the Wildlife Camp. Unfortunately all their spectacularly located, and great value for money, chalets were full and I also had to press on. I got up quite early and packed and then rode to the reception area wary of any elephants, which were a real concern. I paid for the chalets, game drives and all the food over the last 3 days and then had breakfast. After that I spent 2 hours finishing the blog and other admin duties. By that time the game drives had returned and I met Roberta and the others who were on our disappointing trip last night. They had all had a better experience this morning and said the lions had abandoned the buffalo to the hyenas. Eventually I was ready to go by 1130. As I said goodbye to Stefan, the camp manager, he said “ Watch out for elephants”

I was just 100 metres from the reception when I saw them approaching the camp from the river. The nearest was 100 metres from the road and quite happy stripping a coppiced tree of its foliage and the others were behind. I could not see any of the babies and looked around on both sides for them. With no sign of them I cycled on looking from side to side constantly for a good half kilometre until I was clear. I still had another 4 kilometres of this small track to cycle on before I reached the road but saw nothing more. At the road I was still not in the clear as this was where we saw the breeding herd of elephants drinking through the green weed yesterday at the same time, but there were not today. A bit later the road became tarmac and I passed another large pond covered in bright green weed and there were about 8-10 hippopotamus in it partially submerged and walking around with their mouths open gulping down the weed. I should imagine they would clear all the weed in a couple of days. I lingered here watching them a bit, conscious this would probably be my last wildlife experience in Zambia.

450. Just before reaching Mfuwe i cam across this pond at the side of the road with about 10 hippopotamus eating the weed on the surface. It is probably my last wildlife photo of Zambia.

A bit beyond the pond I met the main road and turned SE into the town of Mfuwe. It had some expensive gift shops and then the rest was like any other Zambian small town with a collection of general grocers, a few hardware stores, market stalls, a petrol station,barbers and struggling pubs. It was much smaller than I thought and I had passed through it in about 5 minutes. There was no return to the wild countryside with elephants and hippopotamus though as the homesteads now lined the road with the occasional small shop almost continuously for the next 10 kilometres or so.

451. Women walking down the road chatting amicably to each other is a common a Zambian sight as you can find.

I noticed in the hamlets there were some handpumps at boreholes, but there were also many wells. Women were gathered at them turning handles attached to a log over the well. As the log turned a chain wrapped round it brought a bucket of water up. I don’t know how deep the wells were but I suspect about 10 metres at least. I saw about 20 of them in all and some homesteads seemed to have their own private well. As I cycled on I noticed that there were quite a few ponds and rivers still with a smattering of water in them. I think the water table here was quite high and that is why the wells worked.

452. Beside the main road to Jumba were numerous small villages and shops with more solid homestead houses. But beyond these were the more traditional homesteads. However I saw very few granaries here.

I cycled for about 30 kilometres south of Mfuwe past the villages and almost took a wrong turn when the tarmac road split in two but checked the map and took the hard left turn – which was not intuitive. There were many small market stalls outside the homesteads. Some were just a bowl of bananas or papaya. Others had oil and then there was a return to the charcoal bags which were now quite large but only 100 kwacha. The price of charcoal certainly rises in urban areas. It was great there was so much fruit for sale now and I can see it becoming a large part of my diet. I stopped and bought 12 small tasty bananas for 4 kwacha or £0.12p. The kids continued to run out of the homesteads where they were playing and many genuinely thought I was going to give them money. Instead of the “how are you” or “sweeeetiiieee” it was now “give me my money”. I was much less inclined to engage with them. The ponds continued to pepper the landscape and there were many small vegetable gardens which were clearly irrigated from the adjacent pond. However I did not see many of the maize granaries. Perhaps the maize kernels were not stored but turned into flour after harvest. There were certainly a lot of small mills about now with electric or petrol machines milling the kernels.

After the 30 kilometres of barely noticeable gentle climbing past these hamlets and occasional villages the road now reached a ridge which it had to climb over. It was quite a steep climb, but short at just over a kilometre. But during this time it rose 100 metres. I had hoped for a gentle run down the other side but it was relatively short and steep and it plunged down to the plain again. On the descent I passed a red slabstone quarry where locals had cut slabs of stone and had them laid out on the roadside in huge mosaics with their phone number. A prospective buyer would look at the 20 or so options and then phone the relevant number to agree a deal for the collection .

453. Looking downstream from the ridge I climbed over to the large plain where the small town of Jumbe lay.

At the bottom of the hill on the SE side of the ridge I was back on the plains again and followed the pot-holed road over a couple of bridges and farming areas to the very small town of Jumbe. It was something of an administrative centre for the district of Mambwe. I asked at the local petrol station if there was a lodge in town and she said there was and it was the Council Guest House. I have had good experiences with these even if they are a little dirty and poorly maintained. It was apparently the only one in town. I cycled through the town passing a nshima restaurant and loads of small grocery stores and found the faded sign for the “Council Guest House”.

454. On each side of the ridge before Jumbe there were still quite a few ponds and pools in the river beds. It must be far better here than the Kariba area.

I think these council guesthouses were built by the governments to facilitate people coming into town on official business, like land purchases or disputes, legal matters and also to visit the local hospital. I am sure they are subsidised for locals and provide a great place to stay. For me they were fine but totally lacked charm and were very perfunctory, but relatively cheap. This one was 150 kwacha or £5. The room had a table, a chair and a bed. The bathroom was really basic with just an old cast iron bath. Its enamel was heavily chipped and it did not have a plug and only the cold tap was connected. Tiles had fallen off all over the place. As usual the cistern was broken and the seatless toilet was flushed with a bucket filled from the bath’s single tap. There was a sink but it had no taps. It would have appalled genteel women. However the lady agreed to provide a bucket of hot water so I could stand in the bath and pour cups of hot water over myself and it worked well. They also said they would provide a meal of chicken, greens and nshima.

455. The most unsalubrious Council Guesthouse in Jumbe. In its prime 20 years ago it must have been tolerable but it had not seen any maintenance since then.

There was a bar where I had been to check in initially and I asked for the meal to be brought there. When I went to the bar now there were about 10 men in it but they were all 30 to 50 year olds and looked like sensible officials who were watching football. One man asked for an order “3 minute maid please.” I wrote some of the blog while the others were watching premier league football and listening to some very easy soft Zambian music. After the meal I returned to the room by which time the power had come back on and I could now see it was not that bad after all. However, of all the council guesthouses I have been to this was the worst. Even the most hardened traveller with the most liberal poetic licence would find it difficult to describe the Jumbe Council Guesthouse positively. However it was much nicer than JB’s in Rufunsa some 10 days ago.

Day 079. 27 July. Wildlife Camp Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. I had already booked an early morning game drive starting at 0600. I got up at 0515 and got ready and then went to the reception at 0600 and met Roberta, an Italian travel agent, and Joel who was to be our guide. We got into an open backed Landrover with 9 seats in the back but we were Joel’s only two clients. We drove in the chilly morning air for 20 minutes to the park gate just as the great orange sun rose over the treeline and reflected off the Luangwe River as we crossed over the bridge to the Park Entrance. Here we paid our entry fee of $25 and then drove slowly into the park.

441. Sunrise over the Luangwa River on our way into the park for an early morning game drive.

In contrast to the night drives the morning drives go south of the main road. Roberta had been here a decade ago and had taken an award winning photo of a leopard called Alice. She was now keen to see Alice’s daughter, Lucy, who was the leopard I had seen the other night with Andrew. However Lucy, or her two cubs, each a year old, were not to be seen. After an hour we had barely seen anything except for an African Fish Eagle, a few elephants at a distance, lots of impala and some semi submerged hippopotamus. We drove round and round on small tracks to no avail. Occasionally we passed another safari vehicle and there was an exchange of info between the drivers in Kunda.

442. The pride of 14 Lions eating the bull buffalo the managed to kill just a few hours previously. They will spend 2 days feasting on the carcass.

On one occasion Joel must have got some information about the 14 lions we saw 2 nights ago. Apparently they had made a kill late in the night and were now devouring it. We drove off to investigate and soon came across 5-6 safari vehicles parked up with everyone looking into the bush in the same direction. There some 150 metres away were the lions feasting on the nearly intact body of a large male buffalo. Most were on their haunches facing the carcass and trying to find a soft area. One of the larger cubs was squeezed out and was gnawing on the cheeks. This pride was very experienced apparently and with 3-4 adult lionesses could tackle a large bull buffalo. We sat there watching them for 20 minutes as we were not allowed to go closer as there is a hefty fine for drivers who go off the established tracks. Then a monitor vehicle arrived with 2 rangers and rather than disperse us in an authoritarian way they said that one vehicle at a time could go to within 15 metres so the clients could take photos and then it should move on so the next could come within close range. It was typically Zambian in this law abiding, conservative country to err on the helpful, friendly side.

When our turn came Joel drove up and we had about 3 minutes to watch and take photos. Apparently the kill was at 0400 as locals across the river heard it in the night. The carcass was hardly eaten and the lions were not at all bloated. Joel seemed to think this would last for a couple of days during which time the lions would stay in the vicinity and only leave the carcass to go and drink before returning. Then after a couple of days they would start to hunt again leaving the remnants of the buffalo carcass to the vultures and hyenas, of which there was no sign yet. I got a selection of photos and a video and then we moved on. On the other side of the river were two dugout canoes which fishermen used. Joel said the younger fishermen are sometimes taken by crocodiles but the older ones are wise and can preempt the crocodiles behaviour. The price of fish though made it lucrative enough to take the risk.

443. The small dugouts which the lock fishermen used to cast their nets in the crocodile and hippopotamus infested Luangwa River.

We now drove down to the river and along its bank where we could see hippopotamus and some crocodiles before we stopped for biscuits and coffee. There was one enormous crocodile here which must have been 4 metres and weighed perhaps 250-300 kg. It was a strong animal. A heron stood still nearby but apparently crocodiles don’t care much for birds with their feathers. If it managed to lock onto an animal it would drown it and then stash the body in some logs along the river until it started to rot a little and became softer and easier to eat.

445. The large Nile Crocodile was about 4 metres long and about 300 kg. Easily big enough to capsize a dugout if it wanted to.

As we drove towards the exit we saw a few lonely hippopotamus on their own having been thrown out of the herd by the dominant bull, usually for trying it on with the females. These outcasts were lying in shallow marshes or even in the shade in the forest when they would either grow and challenge a dominant bull, or they would find a watering hole and try and establish their own herd by pinching females. This ran the risk of conflict with other males. On other occasions hippopotamus might lie in the shade of the forest for a couple of days rather than go in the water to allow a cut or gash to heal first.

444. A large hippopotamus resting under a tree rather than returning to the water for the day. It was either an outcast or wanted a wound to heal first.

On the way out of the park and quite close to the Wildlife Camp we came across a breeding herd of elephants. There were two bulls, about 8 mothers and 7-8 young ones of various sizes. They were in a shallow lagoon covered in weed and were sticking their trunks beneath the weed to drink the water. We watched them for a while and then returned to Wildlife camp at 1000 to have breakfast. I then spent the rest of the afternoon doing the blog and photos in the bar/dining room which was a quiet place. I was booked on another game drive for the evening which started at 1600. However when I wanted to go back to my chalet the route was blocked by a herd of elephants and there was one small baby elephant amongst them and I had to wait for nearly half an hour for them to move on.

447. Part of a breeding herd of elephants in a shallow weed covered pond near Wildlife Camp. The elephants were drinking water beneath the weeds.

The second game drive left at 1600 and we were 6 passengers altogether with Joel driving and George as a spotter with the torch when it got dark. We drove slowly to the park where the others paid their entry fees. I had already paid my 24 hour permit this morning. We then went into the park and surprisingly did not turn north where we went on the night drive with Ackim and Andrew 2 days ago, but turned south and followed the small roads we were on this morning.

446. Lilac Breasted Rollers were a common sight throughout Southern Africa and not just in the National Parks

We drove round and round but did not see much except for the lions who were still eating the buffalo carcass. The sun was low now and we were looking straight into it so the lions were not as clear as they had been this morning as we were 150 metres away. The monitor vehicle which gave us permission to go off the track was not there so we could not get close. When we left the lions we drove a short distance and came across three large spotted hyenas who were lying down and very relaxed. They were waiting for an opportunity to scavenge some of the buffalo carcass as soon as the lions went for a drink or left the carcass unguarded. There were also a few vultures gathering but their wait would be longer than the hyenas.

448. Three hyenas were waiting patiently in the evening for the lions to leave their buffalo and go and drink hoping to steal a meal before they returned.

As the sun went down in a blaze we stopped at an insignificant pond and had crisps and a coke and then set off again. We drove around for another hour and a half in the dark with George flashing the torch from side to side. We saw virtually nothing except for a few hippopotamus who were eating the long gourd-like fruit which had fallen from the sausage tree and also a mongoose and a few genets, a small carnivore which looks like a cat but is not. The landscape we were driving around did not look good for a leopard as it was predominantly open plain with few trees but much scrub. Eventually Joel veered towards the river where the trees were bigger but he did not go north of the road which we did a few days ago and where we spotted the 3 leopards. I felt Joel was almost killing time until we had to return to Wildlife Camp and George was lacklustre in trying to spot wildlife with his not so bright torch. Of all the game drives I have been on, which is about 7, this one was the most disappointing and I think the others felt the same way. I did have a tip looked out to give Joel but withheld it as I thought the game drive was perfunctory.

449. The usual vibrant African sunset on the evening game drive was also the sunset to my stay at South Luangwa National Park as tomorrow I would leave.

Once we returned to Wildlife Camp before 2000 I had a meal in the dining room and wrote a bit before it was time to return to my cabin. The waiter/barman on duty insisted on escorting me saying if he let me go alone and anything happened he would lose his job. So to keep the peace I complied. Tomorrow I would do the final part of this section which would be to cycle to Chipata on the Malawi border.

Day 078. 26 July. Wildlife Camp Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. I had already put today aside as a rest day. The last three days were not hard but I was a little tired and needed some time to recover, wash clothes and generally relax. I also needed at least a day to do the blog – which I had mostly written in a crude form full of typos. After the large breakfast with Andrew and his partner I returned to my cabin to write while Andrew went on the road I cycled yesterday to sort out his plot of land which the Chief Malama had given him. His partner was related to the Chief so I am sure this was a joyful occasion for everyone.

438. My thatched chalet with the verandah facing the flood plain and river whereci spent the day.

Writing on the verandah was simply fantastic. It was warm yet shaded. The table and chair were perfect and the outlook was superb. The only trouble was there was so much going on it was not that productive. Before me was the flood plain and the Luangwa River was beyond that. I could see the rounded backs of the submerged hippopotamus in the river and their grunting, snorting and bellowing was carrying across the parched grass. There were perhaps 30 impala in the grass in the open. A few were mothers with larger fawns who were half the size. The scene was very relaxed and many of the fawns were sitting on the ground. There were also about 15 warthogs in two big groups which were grazing. The adults were on their front knees so they did not have to bend down so far but the smaller ones were more active and were grazing and moving at the same time. There was even a giraffe.

436. As I was sitting on the verandah of the chalet writing overlooking the flood plain of the Luangwa River a small herd of elephants wandered past right in front of me.

I continued doing the pictures and just looked up to see a herd of 6 elephants saunter past just 30 metres away. They were quite silent and had I not looked up I would have missed them. There were two very small babies among the herd and a teenager so hopefully they will not surprise a car camper in the other busier part of the Wildlife Camp 400 metres away. I then heard a sound behind me and there were two more elephants which must have wandered through the reception and were going along the path at the front of the cabin munching some of the ornamental hedge as they went.

437. Across the flood plain there were impala and warthog grazing peacefully in the sun all day.

439. The were also a large troop of baboons which arrived in the afternoon and spent time grazing on the flood plain.

With the pictures done I went for a siesta but closed the door and brought everything loose in as the baboons had arrived. There were about 100 of them and they spread out across the flood plain digging for roots. Many of them played and frolicked right by the balcony. They would have tapered with or tried to eat anything I left out. I slept longer than I wanted and it was not until 1600 I woke again. I also went to the reception to book an early morning game drive before reception closed. I was just starting to write when Andrew appeared after a good day for them. His conversation was infectious and he was a great conversationalist. It turned out we had some connections. I knew of a Hugh and Myrtle Simpson in Scotland who were well known Greenland Explorers in the 1950’s to 1970’s. Well it turned out Andrew was Hugh Simpson’s nephew. Another connection was that Andrews’ great, great uncle was a physician who invented chloroform and who the Simpson Memorial Hospital in Edinburgh was named after. It was a small world.

440. In the dusk two large warthogs strolled past, confident there speed would keep them out of danger.

I had an early dinner on my own as I ordered it before Andrew returned and I then returned to my chalet in the dark to catch up with the writing. It is a constant burden on this trip but if I don’t do it I have a dark cloud on the horizon which only clears to bright blue sky when I am up to date. Once I was almost finished I went to bed quite early with the alarm set for 0530 as I am getting picked up at 0600 for the early morning drive. It had been a great day at the Wildlife Camp and I hardly needed to do anything as animals were coming to my doorstep.

441. Sunrise over the Luangwa River on our way into the park for an early morning game drive.

Day 077. 25 July. Malama Umoyo Lodge to Wildlife Camp. 42 km. 4 Hours. 210m up. 210m down. During the night there were plenty of sounds from the area. The hippopotamus which did not go foraging for the night or returned early were snorting and grunting in the creek just below the cabin. At around 0400 there was also a pride of 4 lions which came through on the beach below the embankment and these roared a few times. I did not know what it was at the time but at breakfast Kevin asked me if I heard the lions. It was a great place to watch wildlife and a magical and serene spot. I would have liked to have spent another day but I was booked in at Wildlife Camp 40 km up the road. I had breakfast chatting with Kevin who was a major part of the ambience of the lodge, and then left at about 1030 after saying goodbye to everyone. In consideration to what Douglas had said yesterday and also what the guides who worked for Kevin said I ditched the white hoodie and wore my dark blue shirt so I would not be so visible to the elephants.

423. In the morning at Malama Umoyo Lodge the largest of the 3 crocodiles was floating in the creek just below the cabin. It must have been 4 metres or 13 feet.

422. After a night of foraging in the dark in the bush grazing on vegetation the hippopotamus had returned to wallow in the creek below the cabin for the day.

I was a bit apprehensive about meeting elephants on the road here. My mouth was dry with adrenaline and fear as I set off down the gauntlet. As promised the road was in quite good condition but a bit corrugated or washboarded in places and that made my bike rattle noisily. So after a few kilometers I stopped to bungee down the items which were rattling. I was looking from side to side like a tennis spectator peering behind every shrub. I remembered from Botswana how easy it was for these huge animals to remain hidden behind small shrubs. I did not want to surprise one at close quarters. There was lots of dung on the road but it was all quite old and there were lots of footprints but again they looked quite old and the tyre tracks of the last few days had obscured them as they drove over them. It was not a well used road with perhaps 3-5 cars a day on it and a few more motorbikes.

424. The gravel road from Malama Umoyo Lodge to Wildlife Camp was 40 km but it essentially went through a National Park and there were elephants, lions and buffalo in the area.

One track which I did notice a lot of were the hippopotamus tracks and their distinctive 3 toed print. Their tracks were everywhere, almost every hundred metres as they came up from the river, crossed the road and then headed into the bush to graze on the wide mantle between the road and the base of the hills some 2 kilometres to the east. They come out of the water after dusk and then wander off into the bush to graze all night and then return to the river at dawn. They have to do this because their skin is sensitive to sunlight and they need to wallow in water to stop themselves getting burnt. There were also various other prints which were both zebra and buffalo. I hoped the latter were deep in the bush grazing as I did not want to encounter one of them either.

There were about 20 streams crossing the road and most of them did not have a bridge. These were the most delicate sections and the road would drop down slightly into a sandy dip which was covered in thicker green vegetation. At the bottom of the dip was the riverbed which was also sandy and it was perpendicular to the road. It was a perfect alley way for elephants to migrate from the river to the bush, while finding plenty of fodder on the way. I was especially careful going into each of these and stopped and listened before I went down the sandy ramp to the bottom. It was a bit of a trap really as I had a sandy ramp on the other side too and would struggle to get up it. Sometimes I had to get off and push. It would not have been a quick exit even if an elephant was following me. I always had the airhorn ready as the defence of last resort.

425. I saw 2 herds of elephant on the cycle both 500 meters ways from the road. This one was a family group with mothers, teenagers and babies. The teenagers are the dangerous ones in this situation.

I had gone about 15 kilometres and done about 6-8 of these riverbeds in an hour and a half when, on a flat bit, I spotted a small herd of elephants on a grassy clearing some 500 metres to the west between me and the river. It was a safe distance I thought. It was a mixed herd with perhaps 3-5 mothers, 4 younger elephants and a couple of teenagers. Apparently it is the teenagers which are the worst for charging as they want to make a name for themselves within the herd, while the mothers tend to encircle the young ones in a protective ring. About a kilometre later I saw 2 large bulls also about 500 metres from the gravel road in a different clearing. I was obviously entering an area where they were more common. I saw virtually all the baobab trees here had damaged bark around the boles up to about 3 metres. I later found out the elephants use their tusks to gouge strips of it off and eat it. There were not many other animals except for small groups of zebras and many small herds of impala and troops of baboons. The impala would easily cross the whole road, about 5 meters wide, with a single high bound.

As I neared the half way point I saw lion prints and I was quite sure they were from last night as there were only 2 sets of tyre tracks over them. They were surprisingly small and I initially thought they were leopard but someone later confirmed it was a lion. It was known there were lions on this stretch as there was the National Park on one side and Game Management Area on the other and nothing to separate them except for the relatively shallow, but crocodile infested, Luangwe River. Local cyclists assumed that lions were active and hunting during the night and would kill prey then. They would then spend the whole night gorging themselves and during the day would find a grassy shaded spot out of the heat of the sun and sleep it off. The worry was there might be older males who were thrown out by the pride and these would get progressively desperate hunters as they got more geriatric and might not obey that nocturnal pattern. I glanced at my air horn again making sure it was ready to deploy.

426. I didn’t see any lions but heard them in the night at Malama Umoyo Lodge and saw this fresher prints about half way along the day’s cycle.

Perhaps the worst thing on the cycle though was the tsetse flies. They follow the herds of buffalo, impala and zebra. They are about the same size as a horse fly and have a painful bite as they need some serious jaws to get through even the softest buffalo hide. Unlike horseflies they are too fast for human reactions and fly off before you can swat them. They were getting so bad I wondered about stopping to put repellent on. The other problem with the tsetse flies is they can carry a disease called Sleeping Sickness in layman’s terms.

About half way I reached a security checkpoint. The guard looked very military and efficient. He confirmed the prints I saw were lion prints and said there had been three there last night. He also gave me some tips for dealing with elephants if I came across them, which was essentially to be patient and give them a wide berth. He said the elephants on this side of the river were much more wary and afraid of humans because of historical poaching and confrontations with farmers chasing them off crops with catapaults. The ones in the park are more confident and curious and less likely to feel the need to defend themselves by attacking. He also mentioned my dark shirt was a good colour and white was bad. I think this guard was essentially an anti-poaching guard and monitoring traffic. There were also specialist anti poaching units but they were often roaming in the bush. I am not sure if poaching is prevalent now as the penalties are harsh, but it was prevalent 20 years ago.

427. On the latter half of today’s cycle I passed a couple of large clearings where I thought I might see elephants crossing but didn’t.

The second half of the trip was faster as the road was better with less stream bed coming down from the mountains. It was also more open with a few large clearings some a kilometre across. However there were more elephant prints here but again many were old. Towards the end I entered a forest which lasted maybe 10 kilometres in all and it was clearly shaped by elephants. There was an understory of small trees which had been coppiced by elephants so these trees were only 3 metres or 10 feet high. Anything which grew from these stocky stumps was eaten by the elephants who left the stumps. Then there were the larger trees of the same variety which were just clear bare trunks up to about 6 metres when a canopy formed just beyond the reach of elephant trunks. I guess a forester would be able to deduce when the elephants moved into this area as their numbers increased by deducing from the larger trees when they were too high for the elephants to coppice at 3 metres. I saw little here except for the odd safari truck whose white occupants seemed surprised to see me. After 38 km I reached the turnoff to wildlife camp and had a gentle descent down a good gravel road to Wildlife Camp.

428. I cycled past many forest areas which have been shaped by grazing elephants. The underfloor only grows 8 foot high as it is continually stripped and the canopy starts out of reach of elephants trucks.

Here I had pre-booked a chalet for 3 days to catch up and explore the park. It was a lovely setting overlooking a parched grass flood plain on a bend in the river. The chalet overlooked this and had a verandah. Beside the chalets was a thatched area with drinks and where I could order food. It was all quite good value for what you got and a fraction of the price of the other lodges in the area which were essentially the same but with champagne and other superfluous luxuries. I unpacked into the thatched chalet and then went to the bar area for a drink.

I had barely sat down when I met Andrew Cairns with a well educated English accent. We quickly asked questions of each other and found we were a kindred spirit. Andrew had grown up and gone to posh schools in Rhodesia as it was then. His father was a medical doctor and was the clinical director of one of the largest hospitals in East Zambia for about 40 years. Andrew had returned to England as a young man and had set up a financial advice business for a few decades before returning to Africa. He was now involved in a lot of charity work especially within the Malama area, so much so the Chief Malama had given him some land and was going to inaugurate him as a member of the tribe in a couple of months. Andrew spoke fluent Chewa and Kunda from his near 6 decades association with the areas. He could hold a conversation on any topic from Verdi’s operas to Kunda syntax.

429. In the evening we went for a game drive and on crossing the bridge over the Luangwa River were could look down on a young bull elephant on the riverbank.

Andrew invited me along on a night drive that evening leaving in half an hour and I would only have to pay for the park entrance fee. I jumped at the chance and left to wash my face and change clothes. We then drove to Mfuwe town centre, the gateway to the park and met Ackim who was a guide and owned an old landrover 110. Andrew, his partner and myself then hopped in the open seats in the back and went into the park. It was across a large bridge over the Luangwe River where we saw an elephant emerging from the water. A little later was the park gate where I paid the $25 entry fee.

430. We saw a younger giraffe which was on is own and seemed somewhat vulnerable especially as there was a pride of 14 lions nearby.

431. Two of the lions from the pride of 14. They were still sleeping and relaxing at the end of the hot day but would soon get up and begin to hunt around dusk.

Ackim was a self employed guide with his own vehicle and was very competent. We also had a scout who was a spotter. Both were qualified. We drove up the road a little and then headed north and spent the next hour and a half looking for wildlife. We saw waterbuck, hundreds of impalas, a small looking teenage giraffe on its own, a pride of 14 lions still basking in the sun after the hot day, a pond full of weed which had a herds of hippopotamus wallowing in it and a plethora of birdlife. All the time we were heading for an ox bow lake and an embankment on the edge of the river where there was a view of the sunset which went down over a herd of hippopotamus in a blaze of orange, which I am starting to take for granted now. Across the river there were some fishermen starting to get ready to go into their tiny vulnerable dugout to do some fishing, probably with attended nets. It was a very African scene.

432. At sunset we went to the banks of the Luangwa River to watch the orange sun set. The camp on the east side of the river are fishermen just outside the park.

Just across the water was a lodge called Takina. It was here that two lady tourists were killed by an elephant 3 weeks ago. Apparently they were walking some 150 metres from the boat to the lodge when they stumbled across a herd of elephants. Unknown to them a mother and baby were at the side of this herd and being elephants which had previously been poached were very nervous and defensive of people on foot who they assumed were there to do them harm. The mother emerged from the bush and charged at them from the side, trumpeting loudly. The scout, with the gun, and the guide fled leaving the two ladies on their own to face the wrath of the mother elephant who quickly killed them. It was only then the scout reappeared and shot over the head of the elephant which then fled.

433. After dark we spotted a leopard which was just starting to hunt in the early night. Impala would have been the prey of choice.

After dark we started the night drive. The scout had a powerful torch to spot wildlife. I was amazed how many hippopotamus were now out and about, usually single but mothers with babies, grazing on the short grass. We looked for the lions but they had gone to start hunting apparently, Then we came across a cluster of safari vehicles with their torches focused on a leopard. It was initially distant but slowly came towards us moving with supreme confidence and seemingly completely unfazed by the number of bright torches pointing at it. It was not big, but powerful, and I am sure it would have made short work of me as it disembowled me with its claws. It went straight between the vehicles without any effort to avoid us and then went into the thicket to look for impala.

434. We saw a pair of leopards up a large tree with an impala which they had dragged up there some 10 metres above the ground.

A bit further we came across two more leopards. They had just made a kill and were now dragging their impala up a large tree. They must be incredibly powerful to climb 10 metres up a tree with the 30 kilo impala in its jaws. It had laid the impala over a branch and the two leopards were starting to eat it in peace away from other predators. I am not sure if it was a mother and an offspring or a pair. In the end one of the leopards came down and slunk off into the forest away from the lights. Sitting near the bottom of the tree and looking patient was a large spotted hyena. It was obviously hoping that a leg or perhaps the whole impala might slip off the bough and then it would have its meal. I don’t think a leopard would tangle with the hyena to get it back.

435. Below the tree where the leopards had carried the impala up was a hyena patiently waiting for flesh or bone which might fall from the tree.

After this sensational find it was time to head back to the gate and vehicles. We saw many more animals but did not really have time to linger. It took us half an hour to leave the park, pick up Andrew’s vehicle, say good bye to Ackim and the scout and return to Wildlife Camp. When we got here the meal we preordered was ready and we had finished by 2100. I was tired after the long day and the large meal and headed off to my adjacent chalet having been warned to not wander about outside at night. I was too tired to write so I went to bed. It had been an extraordinary day to cap off the last three exceptional days since leaving Petauke.

Day 076. 24 July. Sandwe to Malama Umoyo Lodge. 60 km. 6.5 Hours. 240m up. 400m down. I slept well under the large mango tree and woke up as it was getting light. I thought I better get into my cycling clothes and get out of the tent before the chief’s representative in the nearby house got up. As I was getting up a tall elegant woman, but bare foot, turned up and started chatting to me. I hurried a bit and then stood up to greet her. She spoke English quite well and explained she was the chief’s niece and the man I met last night and the chief’s representative, was her brother and the chief’s nephew. I chatted with her for about 10 minutes about the chief and his palace and then she offered to give me a tour of the garden and the farm.

409. Chief Sandwe has a representative when he is not there. It was his nephew who was the one I met last night and gave me permission to camp under the mango trees.

We went into the compound through the gate formed by the chief’s accounting office and the land office buildings. I presume the land office had the records of all the farmers in the chief’s large chiefdom with apparently 100 different villages and hamlets. The driveway was past the pump I used last night and under an avenue of mango trees and some small pines to his palace. It was essentially a large bungalow with a few attached buildings. A tractor and plough stood outside. The chief’s niece then showed me the farm at the back of the palace. It was very varied with two large poultry houses full of hens, perhaps 200 in each house with a few feeders. It was almost battery style and not free range at all. There were also turkeys and ducks in separate houses. There was a large coral for the cattle, perhaps 200 in all, which I had seen go in last night and come out this morning with a few herdsmens looking after them. There were also some 200 goats and a few sheep which also went into the chief’s compound last night and came out this morning. They were plump and well fed and obviously the shepherds took them to the best grazing. They spent the night in a small stockade with a log roof and would have been secure against leopards. There was also a piggery in a concrete block shed. The chief’s niece encouraged me in and asked the guys working there to unlock the door. Inside there were perhaps 8 different sties with 3-5 pigs in each one. It was very clean and the pigs were also clean and not at all dusty. Perhaps they spent their lives in this sty. In one of them were 3 enormous males which sired the sows. There was even a dove cot with perhaps 100 doves in it which could come and go as they pleased. After the tour of the farm we headed back to the palace where the chief’s daughter was coming out and going to school. She was a confident 15 year old with just one sock on her well shoed feet, probably as an act of individuality, as I am sure she had plenty of socks.

410. The maize granaries were very common and every homestead had one. More recently I have been seeing the smaller tall granaries on the right and they were for groundnuts which were stored in the shell.

At the gate the chief’s niece went back into her house within the compound and I went out to my bike and the chief’s representative. I chatted with him and asked him about a large pile of bricks waiting to be fired. He said they were for him and he would soon light a fire in the channels under the pile to harden the bricks off for a house he intended to build. I was also curious about a small granary which I had noticed in a few compounds. He explained they were for groundnuts and we went over to it and he gave me a handful, still in their shells. I chatted a bit more with him. He was very gentle and humble but I am sure quite wise and would be good at making decisions involving social issues. I gave him 200 Kwacha for his permission to camp. As I left I noticed just how many mango trees were in this village which must have a glut of them when they all ripen.

411. The pile of bricks which are stacked in such a way there are channels into which wooden logs can be placed to fire the bricks so they are harder.

Once back on the main road I headed north and was delighted to see the road was quite good and graded. A few people asked me where I was going and where I had been. When I told them I was at the Chief Sandwe they became a bit more respectful. The kids in these villages now had a different chant. Instead of “how are you, how are you” it is now “sweetiiiieeee, sweetiiieeee, sweetiiieee” when I tell them I have none they look disappointed. I would have to carry a trailer of them just to give each one. The women also seemed less friendly here and quickly asked for money. I was in a different tribal area now and everybody was from the Senga tribe, as they were in Petauke also. Perhaps they are more demanding and less in awe of Muzungo’s or white people.

412. Chief Sandwe’s Palace which lay in a large courtyard surrounded by offices. At the back was the farm with poultry seeds, pigsties and the corrals for the cattle and goats. His niece showed me round.

I passed a few villages and they seemed to be getting quite poor again. The electricity lines stopped at Chief Sandwe’s palace and did not continue further. I got the impression that this land was recently cleared, perhaps in the last generation as there were lots of stumps in the fields and the houses looked quite temporary really and quickly constructed from bamboo, with a thatched roof. There were a few houses made of mud brick and I passed a few areas where the bricks were getting made, which did not seem a specialist occupation, but hard work. The main transport here was ox cart and the sides were made of woven bamboo, and motor bikes. The only car I saw was a pick up with “Mary’s Meals” written on the side and I saw it parked at a school later. This school was busy with smart kids in a green uniform but the school was unfinished with no windows.

413. In the hamlets around Sandwe the farmers frequently further the forest floor. On the occasions birds like this Lizard Buzzard and Drongos gathered to swoop on the fleeing insects and reptiles.

414. Initially the track from Sandwe heading north was in good graded condition but after 10 km it deteriorated.

After about 10 large hamlets in nearly continuous homesteads I took a wrong turn. I was already 200 metres past it before I realized. I was sure it eventually led back onto the quite small and rough main road which was essentially a track. However this track did not lead back onto the main road for ages and took me deep into the scrub forest through a string of very poor and remote hamlets, where just about everybody was barefoot. Each of the hamlets did have a water bore hole and pump, and this area was always busy with women. I did not see many men around at all except older ones in the hamlet sitting under a thatched verandah discussing. Often one would leap up and come over. They were all very interested in what I was doing and had probably never seen a Muzungo in their hamlet before. They were all extremely gentle and wanted to shake hands and then give me directions on how to get back to the main track. I could see on my GPS map it was now about 2 kilometres to the west. However despite their directions I never seemed to veer west towards the track and just kept parallel with it. I was not too worried as each hamlet directed me to the next and they all said Malama was where I was already heading. I rather enjoyed the peace and quiet of these little hamlets lost in the bush. It seemed people here grew maize and cotton. The former for sustenance and the latter for cash. However some of the men explained that the rains had been poor and the cotton did not do well.

415. Many of the homesteads north of Sandwe were built of logs driven into the ground and were under a thatched roof.

While some conspiracy theorists in Europe and America claim that the earth has always gone through cycles of cooling and heating and this is just a normal part of that cycle. Here in these rural subsistence farms in Zambia at the cutting edge of climate change, the unpredictability of the rainfall is now very real. These conspiracy theorists have made up their minds on man made climate change based on lazy gossip and social media trends, rather than listening to the scientists who work in the field, who are referred to as crackpots with an agenda. Perhaps the conspiracy theorists should come to Africa and spend a season ploughing, planting and tending cotton hoping for a harvest to sell for a few dollars. Then just see the cotton not develop because this year the usual rains were insufficient for the cotton to produce anything and it was all a waste of effort.

416. Between Sandwe and Malama I lost the main track and detoured to the east of it on a remote rural path linking up idyllic hamlets lost in the bush.

I continued on this small path from hamlet to hamlet, meeting men from each hamlet, for nearly two hours. I was continually always just 2-3 kilometres from the main track to the west. A few times I was concerned I would not return to it and then a man at one village said “you should be careful of the elephants, they are very dangerous”. Not long after I started to see old dried piles of elephant dung here and there. These villagers must have a constant battle with them as a field of maize must be a delight for them. Perhaps that is why the farmers here grow cotton too as it might be less palatable for them. Eventually my lovely unplanned detour came to an end and I did return to the main track. It was in the same state as the ones I had just been on.

417. Some of the hamlets were very remote and poor and I dont think many of the children here would have gone to school. People were certainly surprised to see me.

The main track went through a couple more villages in the next 15 kilometres. Here the people were less gentle again and the kids were very demanding for sweeties. I tended to do a lot less waving and did not pause as I went through the villages. The track was very small and there was still elephant dung around but there were also many cattle and goat footprints too which mitigated my concern. I passed a couple of larger dry sandy river beds which marked the end of this remote section. I think that at these riverbeds I also passed from the Senga tribal lands to the Kunda tribe, and soon reached the sign for the Palace of Chief Malama. Here the rough sandy track, which was difficult to cycle on, suddenly changed into a smooth, graded gravel road worthy of Namibia. I reached the village of Malama soon afterwards but could not see any small shops. There was no heart to the village unless it was on a side track.

418. Just before Malama I had to cross two riverbeds and push the bike through short sections of deeper sand before reaching the graded road.

However with this gravel road I was up to 15 km per hour rather than the 7 I had averaged so far this day. I cycled fast through the sparse forest noticing elephant dung here and there and also how all the trees were bare up to the length of a trunk leaving just a canopy and flat bare forest floor. Then I started to notice elephant foot prints crossing the road and some seemed quite recent, although a vehicle had been here more recently. As I cycled, a local caught up. His name was Douglas and he looked like a strong sporty young man. “You should not wear white he explained. The best for elephants is black or blue” I went to put my red hi viz vest on and he said that was no good. I then saw he was wearing an Arsenal football top with red chest and back and white arms. Exactly as I would have looked. However, he was great to chat to and we cycled together for 4-5 km until just before the village of Nyamuluma. He invited me to his homestead for nshima but I wanted to get on to the village, quench my thirst and then continue to the lodge I had earmarked. I noticed his compound was ringed with tall tree posts and two strands of electric fence were strung between them. We shook hands and I continued to Nyamuluma. But after 3 km I realized I missed it. The road split and then came back together and it was on the other part of the road. I was pedaling hard and did not look at the map. It seemed the best option now was just to continue the last 8 km to Malama Umoyo Camp on the banks of the Luangwa River which was very cycle friendly according to the reviews.

As I cycled I continued to see elephant tracks. To my west was the South Luangwe Nation Park and I was now in the large Lupande GMA, (Game Management Area). Sperating the two was just the quite shallow Luangwa River which animals could easily cross. So this was now not just elephant country but also lion, leopard and buffalo country. I had to cycle along the road for about 6 km to reach a village and the lodge. I was alert as I went and was counting down each kilometre with a sense of relief. The only game I saw was 4 zebras running across the road. Pretty soon I reached the small village which seemed to be more of a government training camp for game scouts and anti poaching wardens rather than an agricultural village. Soon after was Malama Umoya Camp and I went down to it. It seemed deserted when I got there but then a man appeared and he went off to get the boss.

419. After cycling for 60 km non stop I reached the comfortable oasis of Malama Umoyo lodge on the banks of the Luangwe River. Here I could look down on crocodiles on the opposite bank.

420. There was also a herd of hippopotamus in the side creek just below the cabin and these were wallowing in the shallows.

Soon Kevin arrived. He was from Liverpool and I immediately warmed to him. He was my age and had owned this camp for 3 years. He was reluctant to let me camp as he had other guests, but offered me a cabin at a good price. He also could provide dinner. And he had cold drinks. We went off to the cabin which was absolutely fantastic. It overlooked a herd of hippopotamus basking on a sandbank and wallowing in the water. There were also 3 large crocodiles on the sandbank below me. The river here did a sharp turn and the cabins were on top of a near vertical embankment that animals would never scale. The cabin was delightful with two large rooms and a wonderful bathroom with hot water at a good pressure. I was sorry I had booked Wildlife Camp tomorrow as I could have spent another day here. I sat in a small pergola after the shower and watched the hippopotamus and crocodiles below me, and then warthogs, impala and many baboons, easily 100, grazing and relaxing on a large field like a flat plateau above another embankment. The whole place was enchanting. Kevin was very knowledgeable and a great talker and I could have listened to his stories but had to do the blog. I finished it just before dinner when I joined the other guests who were also a family from Liverpool. I was also told the road tomorrow was in great condition and it was only 38 km to the Wildlife Camp but there were occasional elephants on it. There was the possibility there were lions in the area but during the day they would not be hunting but lying in the grass digesting last night’s meal. After the great meal in very good company the family from Liverpool returned to their cabin with a chaperone as they were getting up at 0530 for a game drive. I also headed back to my lovely cabin a bit later with Justin escorting me in case there was wildlife about. We did not see anything but once I was back in my relatively remote cabin I heard a hippopotamus quite close by which must have somehow made it up a chink in the steep embankment.

421. The cabin I was given at Malama Umoyo Lodge was a delight. The roof had been repaired because two male baboons had been previously fighting on it and wrecked it.

Day 075. 23 July. Petauke to Sandwe. 75 km. 8.5 Hours. 530m up. 860m down. I had a last shower, revelling in one that worked well and then had breakfast at 0700. Despite not having much to pack I still did not get away until 0930. I was not too worried as I was only going some 60 km to Chilembwe. It was remarkably windy and overcast when I set off with gusts lifting great clouds of dust and leaves from the road and fields.

401. After leaving Petauke the red earth road drops down from the ridge Petauke sits on onto the intensively farmed plateau which is peppered with hamlets and small villages.

Initially it was quite a steep drop from the guesthouse down to the plateau for about 20 minutes on a road of red packed earth. Eventually the road veered north though and the gradient became perfect. It was dropping perhaps 10-15 metres every kilometre and with the wind partially behind me now and the red earth road smooth and firm I was cruising along at nearly 20 km per hour. It was a glorious cycle through very traditional hamlets which were almost continuous. The compounds here were now quite large with a few traditional round or square mud huts, a round storage granary, a chicken coup made from bamboo and elevated, and then a mud brick larger hut with a corrugated roof. All of this was sometimes surrounded by a stockade of posts buried in the ground, or alternatively there was a stockade nearby where the cattle spent the night. The villagers were friendly as I cycled through with many “how are you” yelled as I cruised by.

402. Many of the homesteads on plateau were traditional with a few mud brick buildings and bamboo huts, nearly all of which were thatched.

In one village I lingered a little as they were stockpiling a vast heap of sacks of maize kernels which the government was going to buy. A few kilometres further I came across a row of small shops and I stopped at one to buy some biscuits and sugar water as the breakfast was spent. I assumed I would get some nshima, green vegetables and meat when I got to Chilembwe so did not seek a proper lunch. I was quickly surrounded by young children so I did not have the heart to eat the two packets of biscuits in front of them, so I cycled off for a while until I was between hamlets and had them there.

403. Many of the homesteads on the plateau had a stockade, either a small one to keep the animals safe at night or a large one to prevent animals coming into the courtyard.

After my biscuit lunch the road turned more into a track as it climbed a gentle ridge. The hamlets and farming stopped as I went up, climbing nearly 100 metres in all. Some of it was steep and rough enough to warrant me getting off and pushing the bike up. From the top I got a great view over the surrounding plateau which was peppered with small knolls like the one I had just come up. The descent down the other side was disappointingly steep and I had to have the brakes on the whole time until I got to a village which was set back a little from the road on both sides and partly secluded by sparse trees. The houses here were again red earthen brick and I saw a few piles of untreated brick stacked up with a fire set underneath them to bake them hard.

404. Two chicken cups for sale. These are made of bamboo and are then placed on a high solid platform with a log ramp so the chickens could roost safely at night.

After a few more beautiful peaceful villages, where there was little sign of bored male youth gathering outside the very sparse shops, I came to a bridge being built. This bridge would shorten the route by some 5 kilometres as at the moment it goes south to a village, crosses a very sandy valley where the a stream flows in the rainy season washing more sand down, and then the track goes north again to complete this loop to the south. Except for the ridge I climbed over earlier the whole time there were fields beside the road. The fields had just been left since the harvest and cattle and goats grazed on the maize stalks and the weeds in them. Now they were dry and parched but in the growing season they must be bright verdant green with maize.

I now started a long climb up to Chilembwe. The track was never steep but it was quite relentless. However, after the last days on the Great East Road it was relatively small and there were no trucks or even cars on it, just motorbikes and these seemed by far the most sensible choice for villagers. Often bikes would bounce past me with 3 or even 4 people on them. At the top of the hill near Chilembwe there was a great view across the plateau where there must have been hundreds of hamlets, some just connected to the outside world with a path and no electricity. I passed a check point near Chilembwe which was the border between two districts. I asked the guard what was the reason and he mentioned that some goods had a levy.

405. After dropping off the plateau after Chilembwe the track descended through hills down to Sandwe and the Luangwa River valley.

Chilembwe was very small, or perhaps I turned off before I got to the village centre a kilometre or two ahead. There were a few tracks meeting in this village but the one I wanted heading north to Sandwe and Malama was one of the first. I took it and had a steeper climb up onto a ridge which was also covered in fields. From the top of this ridge the track started to descend. It was a long descent and soon I felt the farms were petering out and I was going into hills covered in forest. Down and down I went and soon I felt like I was dropping off the edge of the plateau and down into the Luangwa River valley. The hills I was weaving between as I descended were the ridges and spurs of a gentle escarpment I was dropping down. The track, which was very bumpy in places, was following a small valley which wove down through the forest clad spurs and hills. I spent a good hour coming down but could not go that fast due to the stony track. Eventually I smelt woodsmoke and cattle and knew a village was coming.

406. Just before reaching Sandwe I passed another village where there was a passionate football match with a neighbouring village.

It was a small hamlet and I passed through it and then down a bit more to another larger hamlet with a small shop. The keeper spoke good English and I asked him about somewhere to stay. He said I would be best going down to Sandwe and asking the Chief of Sandwe when I got there. He said it was a 30 minute walk so 15 on the bike. I have become very wary of these estimates though. I carried on down the track for another 3-4 km and came to a larger village where there was a football match with the neighbouring village. There were about 200 people watching and many motorbikes parked up. There was a real vibrant, festival atmosphere and everyone was passionate about the game. When they saw me they all turned and cheered, shouting “Bwana” and waving and I cycled past. I was sure this was Sandwe, but it was not. It was further down the track. I passed another two hamlets before I reached Sandwe which was lively with a children’s party in the sports ground.

407. One of the homesteads just as I was approaching Sandwe as the sun was setting.

In Sandwe people directed me to the chiefs further down the road until I got to the sign for “His Royal Highness Chief Sandwe Main Palace” I went down the track for the 300 metres and reached a large complex behind administrative buildings. There were gardens beyond the gate between the buildings. For Zambian standards it looked very grand. I suppose Chief Sandwe presided over 100,000-300,000 people in 100 or so hamlets. However there was a pole across the entrance. I parked my bike and walked over to a group of men.

408. The signpost to Chief Sandwe Palace and offices where I spent the night camped under mango trees.

One of them approached me and spoke good English. He explained the chief was away but the chief’s presiding headman was here and he made the decisions in the chief’s absence. I explained to him that everybody I asked about camping directed me here and I was seeking permission to camp somewhere nearby. He was very welcoming and said of course I could camp right here under the tree where it was very safe. I could also use the pump in the chief’s compound to fill my water bottles. Unfortunately it was now 1800 and getting dark so I could not see as much as I wanted. By the time I put the tent up and collected the water from the gardens it was dark. I had a quick supper of a dehydrated meal and some granola and then wrote the blog and was done by 2100. I am looking forward to the morning when I can investigate more of the chief’s surroundings and those associated with him where I am camped.

Day 074. 22 July. Petauke Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. I had not really intended to have a rest day at Petauke but I was behind on the blog and also needed to do some admin for things back home. This guesthouse was comfortable and quiet. It was also great to know that when I turned on the hot tap in the shower hot water came out which is seldom the case. So after breakfast I sat at the big desk and opened the curtains to let the light in. It was windy and overcast outside, similar to yesterday and it felt like a weather system was approaching.

It took me all day with a meal break to do the blog and the admin for things back home and I was done by late afternoon. It was a relief however I also had to do some research on what I was going to do when I reached Mfuwe in 3 days time. Mfuwe was the gateway to South Luangwe National Park, arguably Zambias finest national park and I did not have a clue about where to stay or what to do.

After chatting on a forum about cycling in Africa and chatting with acquaintances I have met here and who had been to the park, a plan started to emerge. It seemed the best place to stay was some called Wildlife Camp. A budget campsite with reasonable chalets but with exceptional wildlife. The French couple I met at Ruperts in Nata stayed here and had seen a leopard in the campsite and there are often Hippopotamus here at night. They also organized safaris which were highly recommended. In the end I texted Wildlife Camp and booked a chalet for three nights from the 25th to the 28th July. It was a relief to get that sorted out. I just had to cycle from Petauke to Mfuwe, some 170 km on gravel tracks, in 3 days. I had enjoyed my stay at the plush guesthouse and it had been useful but it was quite a boring place with little soul or laughter amongst the staff.

Day 073. 21 July. Nyimba to Petauke. 75 km. 7.5 Hours. 740m up. 470m down. Dan, Meghdi and myself had breakfast together at 0700. They were political scientists from UCLA in California and Dan was a professor and had spent a lot of time in Malawi and Zambia. Their current project was to find some 10 quite remote villages which were off grid with no power or internet connection. They would then install a Starlink Satellite Internet station in 5 of these villages and leave 5 without and then monitor the development of the villages who received the internet connection compared with the ones who did not get it. Both Dan and Meghdi were incredibly bright, eloquent, and well-informed and acquainted with Zambia and I could have chatted with them all day but I had to cycle 70 km, and they had to wrestle with the technology of getting the units working.

388. A man repairing the thatched roof on his mud brick built rondalval in the large traditional villages to the east of Nyimba.

I left around 0800 and returned to the main road. It was overcast and windy and there was the threat of rain I thought. Unfortunately it was an easterly wind at about force 5 and it was going to slow me down considerably if it continued all day. On the main road there was a wide verge as the route led out of town but it needed to be as it was full of pedestrians and other cyclists, most with a load. I passed the outskirts of the town and the verge seemed to continue and it was at least a metre wide and the tarmac on it was very smooth. It would be great luck if it continued like this all day.

As I entered the countryside I could see it was well farmed with hamlets surrounded by maize fields. The fields at the moment were all fallow waiting to be ploughed and re sown. At the moment there were cattle and goats in them eating the debris from the harvest and any weeds which came up. There were many places along the road buying maize for about 4 kwacha a kilo and obviously many farmers here grew a surplus and sold the excess. The predominant type of house were square and they were mud brick, either under a corrugated iron or straw roof. In a few compounds there were large piles of grasses which had been collected and were drying out ready to place onto the roofs. In a couple of places I saw thatchers putting grass on the roof, standing on the roof timbers, which were just branches, without using ladders. I don’t think this was a specialized job and I think every farmer did his own rather than employing a thatcher.

389. There were many roadside stalls outside homesteads where farmers sold their sunflower oil in litre bottles. I think the oil was squeezed from the seeds in local presses.

There were also lots of small stalls with sunflower oil for sale beside the road. I had seen a few places to press the seeds and I think people took their sacks of seeds along to these to get pressed in a similar way to taking maize kernels to the community mill to get ground into flour. In a few very rural places I saw women, usually older women, pounding the maize into flour with a large mortar and pestle, but most is done by machine now. The homesteads here looked quite affluent and I also noticed that at the small grocery stores selling beer and spirits there were less young men hanging around.

390. The plateau became much flatter after Nyimba and the farming seemed to be easier. There were few trees here and virtually not charcoal for sale along the roadside

At the top of one of the rises I noticed that the land was flattening off more and more into a high plain. There were still hills but they were getting smaller and smaller. The road was much straighter and sometimes there was no bend for 2-3 kilometres and I could see it undulating before me. What I could also see was that the wide smooth verge continued all the way into the distance. I passed a road toll to collect charges for the improved road and signs saying the road had been ungraded was delighted to find out here that it did in fact go all the way to Petauke. It was the best section of the T4 road I had been on since leaving Chongwe nearly 400 kilometres ago. It was still not a delight to cycle on as this arterial road had changed the communities it went through or more commercial communities had evolved along it. My 400 km on the Great East Road, the T4, was a means to link up two more rural sections and there was no other option, but by the end of the day I should be off it.

391. The ox cart was the villagers main form of transport for wood, hauling water drums back from the borehole pump and moving the heavy 50 kg sacks of maize and flour around.

On the plateau I was now entering I saw a few granite looking hills sticking out of the flat farmed land. There was a clump of 3 of them clustered together and their sides were steep and smooth bare rock. Away in the distance I could see many more. I think they were granite “stocks” or small intrusions which were now exposed on the surface and, being harder, resisted erosion and so now stood proud of the surface. These granite stocks would have formed deep in the earth’s crust as a molten magma and then risen up through it like the globules in a lava lamp until they cooled and solidified without coming to the surface. It was only when they had solidified that they reached the surface by virtue of the surrounding softer rocks being eroded around them to expose them. Spitzkop, earlier in this cycle expedition, and Halfdome in Yosemite are supreme examples of granite socks or plutons.

393. A couple of the granitic “stocks” which protruded up from the plateau. They were scattered all over the place on this eroded plateau.

As I reached the roadside village of Minga I saw more and more craftsmen. When I was the tailor’s I sat in a very comfortable chair of bent sticks, with a goat skin seat. I now saw two cyclists, with perhaps 15 of these chairs stacked onto each bike taking them to Minga. I was astounded they could manage this as the wind was still significant and the bikes would have been really hard to control. I followed them for a bit just to see how they coped as they easily encroached onto the traffic lanes. The trucks and even the uncompromising long distance buses were very accommodating and they all slowed down and gave them a wide berth. Even a bus called the “Red Bomber”, whom I had noted over the last 5 days, and was the most uncompromising of the lot.

392. Before the roadside village of Minga I met these two cyclists with at least 15 chairs each battling the wind. The truck and bus drivers were quite considerate.

After a long climb up a relatively gentle hill I reached Minga. It was the usual road side town with perhaps 20-30 shops, mostly small grocery stores on each side of the road. My breakfast was long used up and I was very hungry so I had to find a local restaurant or at least a store with biscuits. There was a restaurant here and it had nshima, greens and chicken or goat. It was run by a very cheerful friendly lady who gave me large helpings and joked continually. A few other customers came in while I was there. As I left, now with enough energy to get to Petauke, I saw a group of boys playing draughts. It is a very common sight. They challenged me to a game but I chickened out, sure they would beat me easily. The boys were still too young to hang out at a bar during the day but hopefully they will find some occupation before they drift this way. Although as I said I had seen far fewer disenfranchised young men drinking and listening to loud music this side of Nyimba. As I was leaving I saw a sign for a “Barber and Mobile Phone Accessories” I thought they might be able to help me get some more internet data. He was busy cutting someone’s hair so I waited and then in a gif he put 7 GB of data onto my phone just using my phone number and paying from his account. It cost 100 kwacha but that should be me set now until I leave Zambia.

394. The restaurant in Minga where the jolly owner gave me nshima, green veg and chicken, which is fast becoming my staple fare.

395. The games of draughts seems to be played everywhere and i am sure Zambians have a range of opening gambits and moves.

When I left the town I passed a cluster of carpenters. They had all their wares on display beside the road and it mainly consisted of doors and beds. It was amazing to watch them using just old hand tools on workbenches made out of a trestle of wooden branches conjure up these beautiful bits of furniture. The doors had 6 panels within the rails, which is no easy job, and the beds looked very solid with dowels. They were skilled craftsmen.

396. The skillful carpenters of Minga were producing complicated doors and furniture using simple hand tools ob rough trestles.

From Minga there was a lovely descent down to the river bed of the Msumbazi river which was almost dry with just stagnant water for cattle to drink, and then the long gentle uphill to Petauke. The headwind of the morning had moderated a bit now and it was an easier 15 km climb up the rollercoaster of ridges with each one being a bit higher than the previous so I slowly climbed up to nearly 1000 metres altitude. The verge was still great as it had been all day and I was in a jubilant mood partly because this was my last day on the T4 as after Petauke I would head off on small roads again until I reached the Malawi Border.

397. The Great Eastern Road, T4, with its usual ups and downs as it approached Petauke. Note the wonderful verge i had enjoyed all day.

The whole day I was cycling there were cries of “how are you, how are you” ringing out from every compound where there were kids and would come running to the roadside to wave. They would chant “how are you” over and over again until I was out of earshot. I must have heard the phrase 5000 times today. On one occasion I saw two men on the other side listening to this chorus and joking about it and then one said to me “How are you” and realising what he had done they laughed loudly. I don’t think I have seen a Zambian yet in a bad mood and most seem extraordinarily cheerful. As I neared Petauke I came across a school which had just let its pupils out. Some walked about 3 km each way in the morning and afternoon to attend. I think people take education very seriously here and perhaps see it as the way out of poverty. It would be interesting to see the truancy statistics for Zambia compared to the UK. I am sure they would be higher in the UK now.

398. Children seemed to be enthusiastic to go to school despite the walk of 2-3 kilometres each way sometimes. They were always cheerful as I passed

At last I reached Petauke. There were two towns here really with the same name. There was the roadside one which was loud, dirty and full of commercial enterprises, garages and filth. I am sure it has grown since the road was built. Then 6 kilometres to the north of it is the original town. I was going to stop at a lodge in the roadside Petauke called the Chimwemwe Hotel. It was a large place with many cabins and looked clean and organized. However it was swamped with a health conference from district health boards in the region and there must have been 100 people there. So I headed north to Petauke proper. It was a very gentle climb up past leafy streets and increasingly affluent houses. I think this is where the officials and richer people of the district live. The road then took me to the centre of town where there was a vibrant and lively market. Because there was not the traffic it was much less chaotic. I watched it for a while near a stand of bicycle taxis. These bikes had an extra seat where the luggage rack was and some extra handle bars to take passengers.

399. Part of the market in Petauke which was a kaleidoscope of colour and chatter. Note the huge wheelbarrows with the car wheels and tyres for moving a few sacks.

Just on the north side of Petauke there was a quiet and more expensive lodge called the Petauke Plateau Guesthouse. It was nearly 1000 Kwacha a night (£30) but after some of the grotty truckers hotels of the Great Eastern Road ( except Bridge Camp) I wanted some with hot water, no blaring music and a calm atmosphere and this guesthouse promised all that. I took a room for two nights as I had a lot of writing, planning and admin to do and got a large room with a huge desk with a nice view.

400. One of the bicycle taxis at Petauke market. The passenger would sit on the back and hold onto the handlebars welded on behind the seat.

Day 072. 20 July. Kacholola to Nyimba. 46 km. 4 Hours. 390m up. 550m down. I was up at 0630 and had left by 0700. It was cold on my hands to start with as I freewheeled down a long slope with the wind also piecing through my hoodie top. It was much flatter once I had made the initial descent. On the way down I could see some plains below which did not look like they were extensively farmed. Indeed for much of the 40 kilometres today I wondered why there was not more efficient agriculture here. There was certainly scope for it unless the soil was very poor or it lies in a rain shadow and does not get enough rain even in the rainy season to sustain a crop.

384. After leaving Kacholola the landscape started to flatten out a bit with less hills and the start of the plateau.

There was a big hill in the middle of the day but it was nothing like the scale of the previous three days since leaving Chongwe and I just had to go down to the lowest gears because my legs were tired. The surface of the road was still great to cycle on and it was smooth although the road was frequently narrow and the verges were often non-existent, or covered in bushes or long grasses. Both yesterday and today there were stretches with really good drainage channels on one side of the road. As long as these were not too overgrown they provided an excellent place to cycle when a big truck or one of the aggressive long distance buses came roaring up.

385. There were still some very traditional villagers and hamlets, often made from bamboo as the hills gave was to the plateau east of Kacholola

It was overcast all day and this helped suck the colour and vibrancy out of the landscape but the villages seemed very drab and remained quite poor. There were still many kids running to the side of the road when I approached shouting “how are you, how are you” over and over long before I arrived and then there were the women in their colourful dresses heading down to the communal pump with the yellow buckets to get 20 litres of water. But the men were just sitting around the shops chatting and hoping they would acquire some money for a drink. They also shouted how are you as I went past hoping I would stop and shower them with kwacha so they could buy alcohol.

386. A view of the Great Eastern Road as it heads down onto the plain on which the town of Nyimba lies.

I saw there were more and more grain and bean merchants around as I neared the town. They were buying maize, soya beans and sunflower. The maize was 4 kwacha a kilo, the sunflower seeds 7 kwacha and the soya as much as 11 kwacha a kilo. If the merchants bought them at these prices and then sold them to the government at 7 kwacha for the maize they were making about 40% profit. No wonder farmers have a distrust of merchants. The merchant would of course have to store the sacks and was also running the risk of the government price dropping. The merchants became more and more prolific as I entered the town.

Nyimba was a busy noisy dirty town, like Chongwe but without the charm of the large market selling vegetables. I cycled down the main street which was the T4 road. The road was now busy with cyclists taking sacks of produce from one merchant to another or taking it home. In amongst this was a mass of people, small cars and then the large trucks which had slowed down. The worst of the low echelon commercial trading was at the west end of town and as I cycled through the town it got less frantic. There was even a mosque which was small and modest. It showed I was getting towards the East Coast of Africa now with its Arab influence down the centuries. I was looking for the Tiatania Lodge which had mixed reviews but nice photos. When I got there it was abysmal and very run down. They all seemed to be except for the Blue Sky Lodge so I went up to it. It was still in the process of being built but it had 6 finished rooms, a conference hall and a bar area. The room was nice and clean so I took it despite not being convinced about the hot water. It was only 1100 in the morning.

387. In the last few days I had seen a few mosques, but this one at Nyimba was the largest and looked quite active. It is a sign the east coast of Africa is approaching.

That afternoon I wrote the blog and had a lukewarm shower. Unfortunately my data had run out and I could not get more just yet but would tomorrow in Petauke. I finished in the late afternoon and went out of my room to meet two political scientists who were from the University of Los Angeles. They were doing a study to introduce some Starlink satellite internet to remote villages which were off the grid and then seeing how they changed compared to the ones which did not have the Starklink internet. I chatted with them and then we had supper together, eating what we ordered mid afternoon. We ate in the bar area and chatted about politics and political celebrities like Bill Gates or Donald Trump. It had been an easy day, but I needed it to catch up and rest my weary legs after yesterday.

Day 071. 19 July. Luangwa Bridge to Kacholola. 63 km. 7 Hours. 1030m up. 590m down. I had breakfast with Ian and Sarah on the main deck. It was nice and relaxing and a treat for me to have it in good company. I could have chatted for ages but they had to drive to Malawi and I had a long climb to Kachokola. We all departed at the same time after saying goodbye to Precious and Mulenga, who helped make the place special. Once on the road I started the first of many climbs. This one took me up the west bank of the Luangwa River passing a village until I got to the T junction with The Great East Road. Just before this I came across a small group of young boys hurling rocks into a culvert under the road. “Snake, Snake” they said when I looked at them with a questioning glance. I did not get off to have a look but guess it was a smaller non venomous snake. However it could have been a cobra or mamba, and if it was the latter it could well have fought back and chased them. I think 50% of the snake bites in the world occur when snakes are being cornered by drunk men or excitable kids. Unfortunately for non-venemous snakes they all get tarred with the same brush, and these kids surely assumed they were dealing with a harmful one. I was not going to intervene on the snakes behalf as it could have been a venomous one and there were probably kids or drunk men all over the world confronting thousands of other snakes with rocks and stones.

Just after the T junction the road dropped down to the banks of the river again and then followed it north for a couple of kilometers to Luangwa Bridge which crossed the river where the valley was pinched by two spurs from each side. I looked for crocodiles here but could not see any. However I did see a collection of dugout canoes the fishermen used and these were perhaps the same size as the crocodiles!

377. Looking downstream from the Luangwe Bridge over the crocodile infested river.. Bridge Camp is about 3 km downstream on the right side.

Once over the bridge I started the first of many climbs. The first two were the steepest and longest as the road had to climb up out of the deeper valley and up onto the plateau again. I just put the bike into the lowest gear and plodded away very slowly. Some of the trucks coming up behind me were not much quicker, with their enormous loads. There were not many of them but they roared and belched grey smoke as they clawed their way up. Across the road the descending trucks were also roaring as they came down in a low gear to prevent the brakes overheating. It took well over an hour to climb up the slope and this was the first of many today but it was the biggest.

Once up on the higher ground I was back into hamlets of homesteads again. The kids here were so aware of their surrounding they knew I was coming long before I even realized there was a hamlet there.Then I would hear cries of “how are you” “how are you” coming from behind the bush and thickets of tall grass until it cleared to reveal the hamlet and all the kids running from houses, sometimes screaming “how are you”. It seemed to be the appropriate thing to shout when a Musungo, or white person, was around and I assume it was one of the first things they learned at school. Often they were so excited they would jump or skip and wave frantically as I went past. I always felt I had to reciprocate the wave but if I was going up a steep hill slowly in first gear, or watching for traffic it would often mean a wobble on the bike.

378. Many of the houses on the homesteads east of the Luangwa River were made of wooden poles, or even bamboo.

The men hanging out at the shops which sold beer or spirits would also shout “how are you” but there was usually an ulterior motive. I just gave them a perfunctory wave and cycled on not really wanting to engage them at all. However sometimes I got very thirsty or hungry and then I would stop at the shop or shack they were hanging out at and run the gauntlet of those asking for money, or others being smartarses and showing off a bit. After these recent hills I was both thirsty and hungry but the two places I passed were full of young men waiting for something to happen in front of loudspeakers blaring out music. It was really such a waste to see so many young men just sitting around hoping something would happen to transform their lives. Despite the thirst I carried on as there would be something soon enough I hoped.

And there was in about 2 kilometres I came across the Green Home Project 2020. It was a cluster of green houses, one of which was a small shop and the others looked like homes. There was no one in the shop but there were two older men sitting under a round thatched shelter with no wall. I went over and the older one spoke good English. He went over to the shop to go behind the counter and I bought some biscuits and lemon drink and sat under the shelter and chatted to him. He was very gentle and quite charming. Soon a few kids appeared. “These are all my grandchildren,” he explained. He said I could take a photograph for some small money so I did. As usual everyone was very formal at the start until I showed them the first photo and they reveled in it and started to show off for the next ones. The whole place was so calm and friendly I bought 9 packets of biscuits and gave them to the charming grandfather to share out.

379. I stopped at a shop called the Green Home Project 2020 where a grandfather ran the shop while his grandchildren played in the compound.

There were many more hills and many more hamlets as I cycled on towards Kacholola. I noticed that many of the houses here were now made of wooden posts or even woven bamboo. The homesteads were very pretty but obviously this was a very poor area. I had gone through one area, The Nyalugwe Community Game Ranch, which was quite extensive where there were signs discouraging people to buy charcoal and not to start fires. I think this was part of tribal lands and the chief of the tribe was involved in setting up this game ranch so I should imagine he would strongly object to his tribal members producing charcoal on the land set aside for the game ranch. During my entire passage through it I did not see one charcoal seller but as soon as I was out of it some 20 kilometres later they were back with a vengeance.

380. The Great East Road was very hilly to the east of Luangwa Bridge with lots of corners in the road to as it threaded a route through green forest clad hills.

I saw many of the houses and the granaries in each compound were now made of bamboo. This must have been a choice to keep them cool as it would have been very easy to daub mud onto the wooden bamboo frame to make it more private and secure. On and on the hills went with some steep ups and then downs. It was very undulating terrain coming through these green hills. The traffic certainly seemed to be much quieter now on this side of the Luangwa River and the road was also a bit better with new smooth tarmac which the bike wheels rolled over beautifully. I still had to have my wits about me all day and the traffic I became most wary of was the large powerful long distance buses. I think the buses were on tight schedules and they drove as if they owned the road. There were many charcoal sellers along the road and sometimes I would see a truck overtake me and then I would pass it 5 kilometres later while it was buying some 10 sacks of charcoal to add to its already too heavy load.

381. Many of the homesteads between Luangwa Bridge and Kacholola were also made of woven bamboo which grew abundantly here.

As I neared Kacholola I needed to stop for biscuits again. I passed a hamlet with shops but they all seemed unsuitable to stop at due to the young men hanging around outside them. They were not malicious or untrustworthy at all, just a bit overwhelming and with the same predictable questions which I tired off. A bit further I saw a shop with a tailor sitting outside which looked far more suitable. He had biscuits and was very affable. I suddenly remembered I had a small sewing job which needed to be done and he did that quickly and well. We chatted for a good 15 minutes while I ate the biscuits and recharged before the final 5 kilometres along the flat road to Kacholola

382. The tailor just before Kacholola who repaired my stuff sack strap.

At Kacholola the road widened out considerably with an embankment on one side and a row of simple restaurants on the other. Behind the restaurants, which only served nshima, greens and either fish, chicken or goat, were a few scruffy streets. I could see the Riverside Lodge but it looked dire from the outside so I asked around if there was an alternative. There was and it was a quadrangle of concrete rooms around a dusty courtyard. It was preferable, I am sure, to the Riverside but I still had to have a bucket shower, pouring jugfuls of hot water over me in the communal bathroom, whose door handle and lock were missing. Clean and refreshed but with very tired legs after the enormous cumulative climb of over 1000 metres I went to Aunt Miso’s restaurant. It was very simple and there was nothing else to eat other than the staple fare. Tomorrow I will have an easier day to the larger town of Nyimba some 45 km away.

383. The row of simple restaurants in Kacholola. The all served the same thing which was maize meal (nshima), green vegetables, and then either chicken, goat or fish.

Day 070. 18 July. Luangwa Bridge Rest Day. 0 km. 0 Hours. 0m up. 0m down. My legs were tired after the last two days, mostly due to grinding up the relentless large hills in low gear. I had always planned to have a rest day here at Luangwa Bridge and this is perhaps why I pushed myself since leaving Chongwe. So when I woke I felt a wave of contented euphoria sweep over me and as it was still early I turned over and slept again. I eventually rose at 0700 by which time the sun was already above the hills in Mozambique and went up for breakfast. Although the cabin was overpriced the food was not at all. There were large helpings and it was very good. The cheerful chef, and manager in the absence of Mulenga, the owner, was a good cook. Her name was Precious and she made a great breakfast with real coffee.

After breakfast on the cool balcony overlooking the peaceful Luangwa River I wrote the blog as birds bathed in the concrete birdbath beside me. It was quite a magical place. In the end the sun hit the table so I went up to the shaded top deck for 3 hours until I was done around lunchtime. Just before I finished, Precious came up with a pair of binoculars and pointed out a large crocodile on the sandbank on the other side. We reckoned it was 4 metres and could probably easily take one of the local small breed of cow. There were younger boys playing with fishing nets in a creek and they would have been no match for the crocodile if it ambushed them. Mulenga said it sometimes did happen but generally the kids and adults here were very crocodile aware and had an intuitive knowledge about them which we didn’t have. The Luangwa River was famous for its large crocodiles so they would have to be.

After a great lunch of chicken grilled on charcoal I went down to the sandbanks beside the river. As I reached it a large crocodile, perhaps the same one we saw earlier, plopped into the water. It stayed there for 10 seconds looking at me and then disappeared under the surface and vanished. I did not go near the water’s edge as I did not have the local’s intuitive knowledge and it was easily big enough to overwhelm me if it ambushed me, and then do a death roll and tear one of my limbs off. I returned up the hill again to the cool lodge.

I thought I better do some long overdue bike maintenance. Firstly I removed the breakpads and checked them for wear. To my astonishment I still had well over 50% left. Then I filled the Rohloff gear hub with the rest of the cleaning oil and took it for a ride to mix it up. When I returned I attached the syringe and sucked out the black fluid which was a mix of the old oil and the cleaning fluid. Once that was done I put about 20 ml of the new oil into the syringe and injected into the hub and sealed it. That would be enough for another 5000 km and would certainly see me to Dar-es-Salam.

As the bike maintenance was completed two Australians, Ian and Sarah, arrived and I joined them for dinner. They were the first white people I had seen since leaving Livingstone neatly 3 weeks ago. They were both very able, good humoured and great conversationalists. Ian had a great wit and it was a joy to listen to his stories of a lifetime’s teaching in Australia. They had been to South Luangwa National Park and Malawi and it was really useful to pick their brains on those places. They were exactly the sort of person I hoped to meet at Luangwa Bridge Camp and I was lucky they showed up that night. It had been a lovely rest day and I really enjoyed the location and ambience at Bridge Camp. Mulenga and Precious were great hosts, great company and the location was quite magical.

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