Cape to Cardiff - MarcusInAfrica
This is the story of one boy's overland journey back to Wales from Cape Town, using only public transport and no areoplanes!

A dream becomes reality
Cape Town, South Africa
Greetings everyone,
Firstly a warm welcome to my travel blog. This will, on the whole, be my main means of communication with the outside world for the coming two years - a scary thought but given the nature of Africa it will have to suffice. Whilst I cannot promise regular updates, due to the lack of internet the deeper into Africa one ventures, I will post as often as I can throughout my trip.
Now to the trip itself. The plan is to travel from my current address, in Cape Town, to my parent's house in Wales on one continuous trip, working my way through Africa and Europe using only public transport. I realise some readers may be scratching their head's with bewilderment as to why someone would want to do that. Don't worry, you are in good company, as there have been, and will be again, times when I have thought 'what the hell am I getting myself into?'
So let me explain. For a while I have been thinking of leaving Cape Town (not permanently) and heading off on an adventure, and then I thought to myself if you are going to do it, at least do it properly, thus 'Cape to Cardiff' was born. The initial idea came whilst in Malawi last year, but since then has been developed to it's current state - one which I am happy with in terms of safety and well-being.
The route, which will need to be flexible if I am to complete the trip in the guidelines set out, provisionally looks a little like this: South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, Zambia, Malawi, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Mali, Senegal, Mauritania, Western Sahara, Morocco, Spain, France, England, Wales.
Whilst such a trip will be an almighty challenge, it will be one that I must embrace head on if I am to complete it. There will be dangers along the way, as one would expect, but they will, along with everything else, develop me as a person and enrich this trip.
It is my hope to experience as many different cultures as possible on my journey, as to really travel in a country I firmly believe one must submerge themselves in that countries culture. In doing so I hope to discover myself on this trip, as well as discover the true beauty of Africa, a continent that has truly got under my skin.
For now that's all. But below you will find a map of Africa that charts the route I plan to take through 'The Dark Continent'. There is still a few months to go, so if anyone has any tips or advice for this epic trip please don't hesitate to contact me.
And finally, a reminder that this will be used by my friends and family alike, so if you are commenting please keep it clean. And if you can't keep it clean, mail me at marcus_leach@hotmail.com
My travel map and route
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 15, 2008 from Cape Town, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff

The Countdown Continues...
Cape Town, South Africa
Sun rise at Devils Peak
The countdown to March 2nd continues, at quite an alarming rate, and in keeping with the theme of my journey, no aeroplanes; I have been reading a book entitled ‘Flightless – Incredible Journeys without Leaving the Ground’. The book is a collection of diary extracts, short stories and personal accounts of a variety of trips, all land or water based, offering different insights into people’s experiences.
One excerpt that caught my attention was by Scott Kennedy, a travel writer for Lonely Planet, who was reminiscing about the stage in his life when his eyes were opened to the endless opportunities for adventure. The crux of what he was saying being this: it doesn’t matter who you are, where you are or what you have, the only obstacles preventing us from a world of endless adventure are those created in our minds.
If I am being honest I have, in the past, created obstacles for myself – as I am sure most of us have – that have stopped me from discovering my limits, stopped me from going out to the edge and seeing how far I can push myself. I would be lying, so close to the trip, if I said some of those old demons hadn’t returned to test me. The difference being, this time I am ready to overcome them, there is a burning desire deep inside of me to take this challenge on and triumph.
Devils Peak from Lions Head
With every day that goes by my emotions intensify, my excitement ratchets up a level, the seeds of doubt grow ever so slightly, and the cloud of fear hidden deep inside of me grows heavier. Not that I was ever expecting to just slip out of Cape Town, and off into Africa, unaffected by my ever-changing feelings, but I had not quite expected them to affect me like this.
Waking up, naturally, at 05:30 is not so bad, as long as it is a once off. However, five days in a row, including the weekend, and you start to wonder if this is the early stages of insomnia developing. But then, as sleep gives way to the realisation that life is about to change, maybe forever, you forget about the tiredness and being awake at unsociable hours and instead try and focus on what needs to be done to ensure the adventure takes place as planned.
Table Mountain from Lions Head
One thing I am becoming increasingly aware of is the fact I am going to miss Cape Town. It truly is a remarkable city, and if ever given the chance I would recommend living here, and the chances are it will be my home again one day. When you know something is about to be taken away you learn to appreciate it so much more, rather than almost taking it for granted – as is the case with me at present.
Suddenly there is so much I want to do, and juggling doing all those things with preparing for such a major trip can be a balancing act at times. Although with the early rising comes the chance to see Cape Town in all its beauty, sunrise on a peaceful Sunday morning – not everyone’s idea of fun but a chance to create a few more memories here, before the next chapter begins...
written by  MarcusInAfrica on February 18, 2009 from Cape Town, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff

So long Cape Town
Cape Town, South Africa
It's Monday 2nd March and I am officially a traveller, albeit a very emotional one, and my epic journey from Cape Town to Cardiff is under way. No amount of preparation, both physically and mentally, could have prepared me for the last two days.
One last sunset before I leave
Mr Messy and Mr I Don't Do Running!
Sunday was the day I closed my rucksack, my entire existence reduced into an 85 litre bag that will serve as my everything for the coming months. Zipping the bag was my declaration that I was ready, or at least that is what I thought - what followed was a day full of emotions and tears. Saying so long to those closest to you is not easy, even if you know you will see them all again after the trip, and left me feeling exhausted and ready to just be on the road.
However, once on the road I wanted to be anywhere but there. The opening leg of my journey was a 12-hour Baz Bus journey from Cape Town to Storms River, which was spent going through the emotional mill once again, only this time knowing I was truly on my own. It seems weird, but for so long I have wanted to do this trip alone, yet all I craved today was the company of a familiar face, the touch of a familiar hand and the reassurance of a warm smile. Instead I armed myself with Hunter S Thompson's Hell's Angels and tried to loose myself in a world a million Miles from mine.
An emotional traveller setting off
Suffice to say when I got to Dijemba Backpackers in Storms River I was ready for a cold beer by the open fire, the place I feel most at home. There is something about a camp fire that is magical, watching the flames flickering in the gentle breeze as my worries slowly eased away. I was prepared for a few rough days, so whilst feeling relaxed I expected a few more emotional swings until I finally settle into my new life.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 2, 2009 from Cape Town, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff

Why live on the edge when you can jump off it...twice!
Port Elizabeth, South Africa
I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm alive! The adrenalin junkie in me has been woken and is hungry for more. More of what I am not sure at this stage, but I have a year in God's playground to discover the essence of my new drug. The thrill of flinging myself head first off Bloukrans Bridge, the world's largest bungee jump at 216 metres, was akin to nothing I have felt before.
Bloukrans Bridge
With the bridge 216 metres high the bungee itself is between 165 and 185 metres, depending on your weight, and sees you fall that distance in four seconds at a speed of 120 KMPH. After that it is a 110 metre recoil, followed by another drop, and finally a second recoil of 65 metres - after which you bounce around awaiting the winch man to haul you back up. At this stage you may be wandering what that feels like, allow me to enlighten you.
Does what it says on the sign!
5, 4, 3, 2, 1....Bungeeeeeeee. Oh my god, where did my stomach just go? No time to worry about that. Air rushing past, my stomach trying to find its anatomical place, failing as I continue falling. Suddenly panic, surely it's been more than four seconds. The ground is getting closer, and I am getting faster. Why am I still falling? And then the bungee kicks in. With a feeling of security, as much as one can feel secure tied by your feet, upside down to a giant piece of elastic, I was rushing upwards. And then...the most perfect moment of my life. Eyes closed, arms stretched wide, falling in silence. The initial shock gone, replaced by a supreme sense of freedom. No worries, nothing matters, just this exact moment in time.
Jump number and weight
A good luck handshake with the jump master
Strapped and ready to go
This is living life jumping off the edge!
Fear hits as I begin to fall
Deeper I go
I'm geting closer to the bottom now
I can fllllllllyyyyy
Approaching speeds of 120km per hour
And a distance of nearly 200 metres
Back on the bridge and alive
Me and my jump master
Back on the bridge the dance music is pumping, blood is coursing through my body, and I have never felt so energised in my life. It sounds strange but you lose partial control of your limbs as the adrenalin sends you into a state of frenzied movement. My brain was moving faster than my mouth as I tried to recant what had just happened, all the time tapping out the beat of the music with my feet. I try sitting down, but within seconds I'm up and positively bouncing around. There is only one thing for it, I have to jump again - only this time backwards!
If shuffling towards the edge of a 216 metre bridge when you can see the drop is bad enough, try doing it backwards, with just the voice of the jump master to guide you. Not only that but you have to have the back of your feet off the edge slightly. With each tentative step back my heart pounded harder, my sense heightened and my nerves took over. The exact words I used, with millimetres to the edge, starring back at everyone on the brdige, were, 'This is farking shit scary guys!' And it was genuine fear, pure fear, the sort that doesn't come along often in life.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1....Bungeeeeeeee. Silence. My mouth catches my stomach this time, eyes fixed on the faces above. Smaller and smaller they get until that rare sense of freedom washes over me again and I zone out. Eyes closed as I relax into it, a thoughtless perfection I will chase for the rest of my life. To live in that state, even for just one hour a day, is my idea of heaven. This is pure escapism, this is life. All I need to do now is bottle it and I am set!
Jump two coming up
Back for more...are you mad?
No turning back now
Going down, down, down
Better to look up than down
Free as a bird
That's me, along way down
Oh F**k!
Myself and Elliot after the jumps
Until today my motto in life had been, 'Why live on the edge when you can jump off it'. However, it's now, 'Why live on the edge you can jump off it...twice'. It has taken me twenty-five years to begin living, and I don't intend on stopping anytime soon.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 4, 2009 from Port Elizabeth, South Africa

A World Cup and Some Aussie Hospitality
Durban, South Africa
Having stocked up on enough adrenaline to spark a herd of stoned elephants into life I set off for Durban, via the Transkei (now known as the Wild Coast), in order to catch the last few days of the second cricket Test between South Africa and Australia. It would have been the last three days, but I got side tracked at an amazing backpackers called Buccaneers - the venue where I watched Wales win the Rugby Sevens World Cup!
My time at Buccaneers was spent relaxing and taking long strolls along the beach and just reconnecting with myself in general, and all at my old companies expense - their leaving present was two days and nights all paid for at Buccs. Had it not been for the lure of some live sport, and a spot of Aussie baiting, I would have happily bypassed Durban, but as it was it was a worthwhile stop - not least because I got to see Tristan, who was working at the cricket.
Walking On Cintsa Beach
The Sands Of Time
In my eyes Australians are, on an individual basis, more or less like marmite - you either love them or hate them. Now I can't speak for every Australian, but the ones I met at the cricket were a great bunch and certainly knew how to celebrate winning the cricket. Luke, the leader of Australia's version of the Barmy Army, rallied his troops to put on a braai that equalled any I have had in South Africa.
Up In The Air: Kite Surfers On Cintsa Beach
Test Match Cricket In Durban
At this point it may be prudent to point out he did win 240 cans of beer, and enough money to buy three cows, in a 'hit the wicket' competition at the cricket. We all know the Aussies enjoy their beer, but even Luke admitted the prospect of drinking all 240 cans in the space of 19 hours before his flight to Cape Town was lacking in appeal - and he calls himself an Aussie. Still the rest of us were not complaining as he furnished us with as much beer and steak as we could put away.
Having done what I wanted to do in Durban I began to get a little restless, not to mention depressed, about being in another South African city that wasn't Cape Town. I felt like I was in limbo, here I was away from all that I knew, yet so much of it was not new and thus left me feeling neither here nor there. With that in mind I opted to push on for Maputo the following day in a hope that once out of South Africa I would really feel like I was travelling, instead of craving being back in Cape Town.
The details of Maputo will follow, but needless to say the change of environment - for one where everything is new and exciting - has helped lift my spirits and let me focus on the road ahead rather that what has been left behind. There are still moments where I miss Cape Town and people there, but this is the path I have chosen and it is one, with a little bit of luck, that will change my life forever. I can, however, safely say, wherever my chosen path leads me it will not change the fact my heart lies in Cape Town, and one day I will be back there - maybe even for good.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 12, 2009 from Durban, South Africa

The Magic of Maputo
Maputo, Mozambique
The View From The Base
What a difference a border crossing makes, or rather two as was the case in getting from Durban to Maputo. Leaving Durban was not a hardship, in fact I was happy to be back on the road and heading north towards the real Africa. Having lived in Cape Town since October 2006 I didn't exactly view South Africa in the same light as the rest of the continent - and thus was eager to see my visa stamped out for the time being.
The crossing into Swaziland will be, I should imagine, the easiest of all my border crossings over the coming year, and was certainly so compared to the crossing into Mozambique. Having been warned that border officials are unlike the rest of the human race - they seem to have had the section of their brain removed that allows us to smile and laugh - I knew I would have to be all smiles and the example of politeness.
Even that didn't work, although once I flashed the dollars for my visa they soon sparked into action and began helping me fill out a form that, in all honesty, merits an A-Level just for completing it. Still I had my visa and was, in my eyes, officially travelling - that state of limbo was fading rapidly, to be replaced by the first real pangs of genuine excitement since I left Cape Town.
Dusk At The Base Backpackers
Not being a huge fan of cities, an obvious few such as Cape Town, San Francisco and Sydney aside, I have been pleasantly surprised by Maputo - so much so I have opted to have an extra day here before making the journey to Tofo. What I think appeals to me the most is that the locals let you get on with your life, allowing ones self to blend into the everyday scenery. There is a tendency in African countries for the traveller to be seen as a cash buffalo, leading to all sorts of predators flanking you until you eventually give in and buy something from them.
This is one aspect of African life I don't like, and there is only one place in Maputo where you need to be more forceful than a polite 'no' for people to leave you be - the fish market. Here, slightly away from the bustling streets of the city centre, anyone who steps foot into the market is an open target to be hunted down. Before the hawkers, with their sculptures, art, pirate DVDs and all manner of other curios, get a chance to sink their claws into you the chefs are in with the initial blow.
My Prawn Queen
In a nutshell the market works like this; as you enter there are the rickety wooden stalls with all manner of fresh fish and seafood for sale, after which comes a series of small restaurants built around a small sandy 'market square' so to speak, which backs onto the stalls. The concept is simple, you buy whatever fish, prawns, crab, squid (I could go on) you want and then either take it home or have one of the restaurants cook it for you - and therein lies the problem.
Say Hello To Lunch
Every chef descends on you as if you were the last diner on earth, telling you how he will cook your food before you have even chosen it. It took me one trip around all the stalls just to shake the persistent chefs off, but once that was achieved the real business of haggling could begin. In the end I settled for a kilo of king prawns, no more than six hours out of the sea, for the princely sum of five pounds - and for another pound I had them cooked perfectly on an open fire.
The Perfect Meal For This Traveller
Luckily I had a good book with me, so could hide behind it and ignore any would be hawker who thought it necessary to offer me his wares even though I had turned them all away at least twice. So, the market aside, Maputo has an easy-going, laid-back atmosphere that lends itself to my personality and it will be with fond memories and more than favourable impressions that I leave here for Tofo on Sunday.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 13, 2009 from Maputo, Mozambique

The Other Side of Maputo
Maputo, Mozambique
A Proud Gran On The Ferry To Catembe
My last day In Maputo was spent in the sleepy suburb of Catembe - reached by taking a short ferry ride from the port in the heart of the city across to Catembe itself. It is literally a stones throw from the city, and yet is a tale of contrasts in every sense, and provides the perfect foil to the city.
Catembe is unique in that it is nothing like the rest of Maputo, or any city for that matter, yet it fits the vibe perfectly. Bars line the dusty streets, frequented by the local 'fly girls and boys' who love to party at the weekends, and life is lived at the slowest of paces - which suited my mood perfectly at the time.
Smiling In The Face Of Adversity
With it being a Saturday the mood was relaxed as the locals enjoyed glasses of cold beer out on the dusty streets, in preparation for the party that would evolve later - and I was assured there would be a party, as there was every Saturday. I sat with my own beer, and book, watching the world go by, soaking up the atmosphere as the dulcet tones of music, from various bars, filled the cool air.
It is worth pointing out that these are not bars as you and I know them, but rather small shacks with no seating inside, that serve a seemingly endless supply of cold beers from the hatches at the front. Seats and tables deck the streets as patrons chat and play backgammon, periodically shouting, because of the music, for a fresh beer. Most share their beers, in order to make sure their amber nectar is always cold, and most seemed to accompany it with freshly roasted nuts, either cashews or peanuts.
Having sunk a few cold ones I ventured along the main, and only, street with bars on, mixing with the locals. Through the bits of Portuguese I had picked up, and their broken English I was able to hold half decent conversations with them, but it was a game of pool that proved the perfect ice-breaker. In keeping with the nature of the place the pool tables were out on the street and were run by a winner stays on system - meaning if you were good you could play for free all day.
Shooting Pool Maputo Style
I put my five metical coin down, in a row of nine, and stood by waiting for my turn. Many locals would just stop by for one game, often on their way back to the ferry or to take a break from drinking beer, but there was a hard core of about seven or eight who never left the tables. My turn soon came along, and it pitted me against a wily old man who had held the table for a number of games - hence it gave me great pleasure to bring his run to an end. Sadly that was as good as it got, with my next game coming to a premature end as I sunk the black a little too early!
With that it was time to catch the ferry back across to the city, knowing the next day would see me heading north to the costal village of Tofo - where life was even more laid back than in Catembe.
The View From Catembe To Maputo
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 19, 2009 from Maputo, Mozambique

An Angry Fisherman and Mr Sura
Inhambane, Mozambique
Me and Vincent In The Sura Den
It took me less than two days to become well known with the locals in Tofo. Mainly because I was more than happy to eat with them in the little shacks that acted as kitchens, serving basic, yet tasty, African food - but also because of two separate incidents.
The Sura Queens
The first revolved around Sura, the local palm wine (which is not sold over the counter), and the second involved an angry and drunk fisherman. Sura is made on a daily basis in Tofo, and relies on Lobster John, so called because his eyes are as red as a lobster from too much Sura, climbing various coconut trees to collect the sap of the leaves. This liquid, mixed with a drop of water, is then boiled up over an open fire before being left to cool, after which it's poured through a wire mesh to catch any unwanted dregs.
As I said it's not sold over the counter, as I found out when I asked about it, but rather from an illegal drinking den behind the market. Without a local to show you the way it would be impossible to find this den, but once inside there are never less than ten people there drinking as two ladies make a constant supply of the hooch. At this stage I must stress this drink tastes disgusting, but at ten meticals (25p) a litre, is the cheapest and most effective way for the locals to get drunk.
Distilling Sura For The Locals
I spent the best part of an hour in the den talking to slurring men, and learning the tricks of making the drink from the two 'Sura Queens', whilst supping on a few glasses to get an idea of how potent, and disgusting, it was. I was informed that too much will lead to a temporary loss of sight, which, for reasons still unknown to me, seemed like a challenge and thus I purchased a litre for the evenings festivities. Whilst I didn't go blind it was with the greatest of difficulty that I staggered back to my room at the end of the night, not to mention feeling like a bus had reversed over my head the following morning. I am now known in the local market as 'Mr Sura', and can't walk anywhere near the den without being offered in for a free drink - needless to say I politely decline.
One man who doesn't decline is the fisherman who got a little hot under the collar when he saw me snapping a picture of his fish stand, which for him is conveniently located just over the square from the Sura den. Apparently by taking a picture of his stall I was putting his business at jeopardy, and this is what followed:
Fisherman (speaking with a slight slur and fish blood on his hands): No picture unless you pay.
Me: Why must I pay?
Fisherman (trying to grab my camera): You ruin my business, take photo out now.
Me (putting a hand on his chest to keep him back): No, and get your filthy hands away from me.
Fisherman: Twenty meticals for pictures.
Me: I already said no you drunken fool.
By this stage a small group of other fisherman had gathered and were watching the situation with amusement all over their faces.
Fisherman: Ok we go to the police station.
Me: It's not against the law to take a photo.
Fisherman (making another lunge for my camera): Get the photo out of there now.
Me: (pushing him away from me again): I said no.
Fisherman (noticing the other fisherman laughing, and accompanied with an unsavoury hand gesture): You lot go f@@k yourselves.
The Picture That Got Me Into Trouble
In the end I defused the situation, which involved a fair bit of pushing on my behalf, and wild lunging on his, by showing him one of the pictures I had taken before turning the camera off and telling him it had gone. Despite being drunk he wasn't falling for that one, so I had to delete the worst of the pictures before he calmed down enough to let me walk off. On seeing him the next day, in a sober state I might add, he was full of apologies for the way he acted, although I had a feeling that was due to the fact he wanted to sell me some fish.
My time in Tofo will continue, although I will not be here for as long as I first planned - but rather I will venture further north for a few weeks before coming south to meet Mum and Dad in Vilankulos.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 20, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique

The End Is Nigh...
Inhambane, Mozambique
The Two Amigoes (Myself and Hans)
Surely this isn't how it would end. Yet in my head that's what seemed like was happening, the curse of the witch doctor coming to haunt me, or worse yet malaria. With every step I took I was becoming weaker, and yet I pushed on knowing if I could get to me room everything would be ok, or at least I hoped it would be. Vision going blurred, narrow and short, temperature rising, but only another five metres to go, and then the sanctity of my bed and sleep.
Suddenly everything is black, and I have no memory of getting into bed. Who turned the lights out? Did I tuck my mosquito net in? Then it dawned on me, I wasn't in bed. So where was I? A voice in my head was telling me to open my eyes, yet my eyes simply didn't want to open. Eventually I forced one eye open, and just as I had thought I was not in bed, rather I was sprawled, lifeless, on the sand outside of my hut.
Panic set in as the fever engulfed my body, sweat running off me like water, energy continuing to sap away. If only I could get into my hut I would somehow survive this. With the last delusional ounces of energy that remained in my body I dragged myself into my room and onto my bed, where I let my body fall into a stupor, my mind going back over those two days with the witch doctor trying to work out when he had cursed my health....
The Witch Doctor's Village
Hans, Lineah (two friends from San Francisco I had made in Tofo) and myself, after quite a walk through the hills, arrived at the village where the local witch doctor, who had agreed to see us and answer out questions about his trade, resided. Whilst Hans, a fellow writer, and I were there for research purposes, Lineah came along purely for the experience - which was also a contributing factor for myself.
Despite Hans being close to fluent in Portuguese he knew not a word of Shangana or Matso (the only languages Samwuel the witch doctor spoke), and thus we had employed the services of a local craftsman to act as a translator, whilst Hans put everything into English for Lineah and myself. After exchanging pleasantires we were given an open floor to ask whatever we wanted, although it only took two questions before Samwuel offered to do a spiritual reading for each of us, which was an offer we could not refuse.
The Witch Doctor's Tikholo
I came into this trip knowing the best tool I could take was an open mind, and therefore thought I would give Samwuel a chance and see if he was as genuine as he proclaimed. Needless to say I was not disappointed. With the help of his Tikholo, a bizarre collection of shells, a dice, an old coin and various bones, some of which had silver or gold entwined in them, he entered into a deep conversation with my spirits. Before I continue I must stress I don't expect everyone to believe in what I am recanting, rather this is my own personal experience, and everyone has the right to draw their own conclusions.
Over the next fifteen minutes, which saw Samwuel continuoisly gather his Tikholo in both hands, before tapping them on the floor and scattering them - all the while muttering away to my spirits in an almost trance like state - he made four bizarre, yet wholly accurate revelations about me. They were as follows:
1. In the past I have had a tendancy to start many things, but failed to see all of them through.
2. When I dream my dreams only come right at the end of my sleep, if they come at all.
3. Despite having been in my percieved dream job for the last two years it only ever paid me just enough to get by each monnth.
4. I have knee problems and have had, in the past, two operations on my left knee.
There will be those will say that some of his revelations were a touch vague, and could have been lucky guesses - yet like I said before, each was unnervingly accurate to me. Despite having an open mind, I must admit that the second phase of the visit, which took part the following day, was, whilst a unique experience, not something I could believe in.
...Nothing there to sugest I had been cursed, or had he done it just by talking to my spirits? I tried to focus on what was real, the present and not the past, yet as the fever grew my thoughts could only focus on the idea I had been cursed, or had somehow contracted malaria...
The Witch Doctor's Hut
All I knew was that a bath had been prepared for me, and for it to be complete I had to proccure two eggs from the next village across, which was an easy enough task. Stripped down to my boxers and feeling a little uneasy, given that I was in the middle of the village, I was instructed to go to the shower area, and remember that at no stage could I look behind me. The bath turned into a cold wash, given by Samwuel's wife, with the herbal water, complete with two raw eggs stirred in, that was rubbed enthusiastically all over my body as I hung my head over the tub holding the liquid.
On completition of the bath I was sent to the edge of the village, where I had to wait for Hans to complete his bath - for he had gone through a similar process to me. The final act, which was by far the weirdest, was the making of the oil that I was to take away and rub over my body everytime I had a shower. Here Samwuel went into some deep trance, alternating between putting powder into the oil and his mouth!
...Still my temperature rises, my eyes rolling in my head and thoughts of a nasty and lonely end enter my mind. Still nothing of a curse, but then I haven't remembered the money and how he spat all over it...
With the oil made a price was agreed upon, which was too high for me, and too low for him - as is often the way in Africa - but both parties finally settled on it and the money was exchanged. Samwuel then informed us that the ritual he would perform with the money was to cast any evil spirits from my body into the money, and thus began a bizarre series of chants as he poured what appeared to be water over the floor, before taking a mouthful himself. That is when he looked to the heavens and spewed the liquid all over the money and various powders on the floor.
...Back in my room it dawned on me what was wrong. Through all of the time with Samwuel, which was close to two days, I had not drunk any water. So rather than dying of malaria or an evil curse I diagnosed myself with a simple case of dehydration - which still wasn't the nicest experience. Back to full fitness my travels are set to continue, right after I have caught up on some beach time.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 30, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique

Surf's Up Dude
Inhambane, Mozambique
A Perfect Sunrise
Having secured the extension on my Mozambican visa that I required in order to see Mum and Dad in Vilankulo I was faced with a decision, move on from Tofo or wait out the time there. It was whilst sat on the beach, weighing up the pros and cons of both options, that the decision was, to a large extent, made for me.
The First Lesson Of Surfing!
When someone offers to teach you to surf, which for the record is a damn sight harder than people make it look, you tend not to turn the offer down. When you add into the equation that the someone is a beautiful German girl the answer is pretty simple - and so it was another week in Tofo for me. A week of surfing, or at least attempting to surf, eating prawns and fish, watching sunrises, enjoying Alena's company and generally living the dream - what more could I ask for?
Alena - My Surf Coach
Before last week my surfing experiences had been limited to watching people surf from the safety of the beach, in various locations, and the classic animated film 'Surf's Up'. I wasn't expecting it to be easy, but given my love for all sports, and a very competitive nature, I at least thought I would have a fighting chance of making a half decent fist of things. Wrong.
During the first two hour lesson, which admittedly involved a lot of lying on the board and just talking behind the break, I managed to catch just one wave, and then spent the next fifteen minutes fighting my way back through breaking waves to get to where I wanted to be. It didn't help that the board was shorter than me (not that I am making excuses for my efforts), so every time I paddled it felt like I was on a capsizing boat.
Me and Alena On The Dhow
The second session, for which I had a longer board, was not quite as successful (if you can call the first one a success from a surfing point of view) but confirmed that once back in Cape Town next year surfing is something I want to pursue. There is something quite special about floating on the water, the sound of the water the only thing you can hear, apart from Alena's shouts of 'paddle, paddle, paddle' every time a wave came. But apparently no matter how hard I paddled I was not destined to catch another wave, not this time anyway.
Sunrise In Tofo
Various people had told me that sunrise at Tofo was a magical spectacle, which wasn't hard to believe given the natural beauty of the area, but the idea of getting up at 05:30 to witness it was not such an appealing prospect. So rather than get up for it, why not just stay up all night to witness it - which is exactly what myself and Alena did, and we were not disappointed. They say a picture says a thousand words, so rather than try and do it justice myself, I will rather let you see the pictures and make your own mind up.
The KTM Adventure
With my time in Tofo slowly coming to an end a day of adventure was needed, which consisted in a traditional dhow ride at Inhambane, followed by some play time on one of my dream bikes, the KTM Adventure. If my scooter in Cape Town was the amateur sportsman who plays for fun, the KTM is the seasoned professional at the top of his game. It was a beast, and had the power to prove it - which being the sort who acts first and thinks later I discovered when I gave it horns, hanging on for dear life as I saw the speedometer race past 150kmph.
For now I am in Vilankulo, after saying farewell to Tofo and my surf coach, awaiting the arrival of Mum and Dad and a week away from the rigours of backpacking. Don't change the channel as I will be right back after this short intermission.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 8, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique

The Sky's the Limit
For those who don't already know this is not the only blog documenting my journey through Africa. This serves as a means of telling my story to friends and family, but for those who want to see a different story go and check out my blog on Sky Travel.
The address is: http://travel.sky.com/inspiration/blogs/Through-African-Eyes
My concept here is 'Africa Through African Eyes', so rather than just telling my story I am aiming to give my readership a unique insight into African life and its varying cultures. I feel there are too many standard travel blogs out there, not that people shouldn't be able to tell their story, but I didn't want to just be another story. So for the real Africa keep an eye on Sky Travel.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 12, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique

How Not to Use a Leatherman
Vilankulo, Mozambique
The Beach Of The Near Stabbing
There comes a time when you are travelling in Africa that you begin to crave certain items and food types that are not as readily available as you may like. After close to seven weeks on the road my first craving arrived, yet had I known the trouble acquiring it would lead to I think I may have just left it as a craving.
It started out as an innocent pizza run, it ended with a 4x4 stuck on the beach and a security guard nearly being stabbed. I should have seen that the omens were bad right from the start, with both delivery drivers at the pizza place off sick, but instead I let my stomach take control and the eternal quest for a pizza was on, aided by a couple of jolly nice public school chaps from England.
George, who lives in Tanzania, was happy for John, who lives in Bermuda, to drive me to get the pizza in his 4x4, which sounded like a fool proof plan. Wrong. For some inexplicable reason the lights on the truck failed the moment we got back in with a nice warm pizza. This being Africa we didn't think too much off it, after all most cars in Africa run below the required standard of an M.O.T.
Stuck In The Sand
Five minutes later, navigating our way down dirt tracks and through small villages the lack of lights started to become quite a problem, so much so we missed the turning we wanted and before we knew it we were on the beach - stuck in sand. After a few choice expletives from both of us John volunteered to run the last few kilometres and fetch George who would be able to help us out of this, leaving me to eat my pizza on the beach.
As an extra safety precaution, as it clearly says in all backpackers and guide books to avoid being on unlit beaches at night, we locked the car whilst I stood outside eating - this way if anybody came to steal the car it would be locked and John would have the keys. It wasn't quite how I had envisioned eating my pizza, by moonlight on a desolate stretch of beach, but nonetheless I was going to enjoy it.
I was a good three slices in when I saw a figure approaching from the dark, which put me on alert. My mind went from that of a happy pizza eater to a knife wielding killer. Armed with my leatherman I thought if this guy thinks he can just stroll over here and attempt to steal the car he will have to fight me for it, and so I began to advance, slowly, towards him.
My pulse was racing and my hand gripping the knife tight, the figure getting closer, his features starting to become a little more distinguished so that I could almost see the face of my would-be attacker. This was it, I was going to have to stab this man else he would surely steal George's car, and given it was my desire for pizza that had lead to this situation I felt a duty to protect the car.
With the distance between myself and said attacker down to seven metres, and me ready to take a few more steps before lunging in with a killer blow, I suddenly noticed a friendly smile on his face. Another step forward and, with the help of the moonlight, I notice a badge on his shirt that read 'GAC Security'. Suddenly I felt rather stupid, knife still at the ready, as this wasn't an attacker, rather the local security guard seeing if he could help us out of the predicament we had found ourselves in.
Me And The Pizza That Caused The Trouble
Needless to say I hastily tried to conceal the knife, whilst mumbling something about the beach being a dangerous place and it's better to be safe than sorry. Thankfully the security guard didn't realise I was two seconds away from stabbing him, and was more than happy to wait by the car with me until George and John returned to rescue the truck from the beaches clutches.
When Maddie brought me the leatherman I am sure she thought it would be useful in many different ways, but I am almost certain she never once thought, 'this will be perfect for Marcus to stab security guards with on the beach in Mozambique'. It's safe to say that from now on I will be using the leatherman for its many intended uses, of which stabbing people is not one.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 9, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique

The High Life in Vilankulo
Vilankulo, Mozambique
The Perfect Sunrise
Aside from almost killing a security guard my first few days in Vilanculos were pretty uneventful, that said I did have the pleasure of helping Eusabio build his piroque. However, the arrival of Mum and Dad, along with their good friends Sue and Peet, signaled the start of some rather special adventures - not to mention a wedding (more of that in the next blog).
Eusabio and His Masterpiece
I was expecting to be staying with Sue and Peet, and then booking various activities to get the full experience in Vilanculos. Yet when I arrived at the airport to meet everyone I knew this would be quite a special week. I had been told to arrive at the airport at 11:30, which I did despite being babolas (hung over), only to discover there were no scheduled flights due to arrive until 15:30. There was however a private flight landing at 11:30 - somehow Mum had failed to inform me Peet had his own plane!
My Reading Hut
From that moment on I knew the week ahead would be quite a special one, and on arriving at Sue and Peet's house I was blown away - most people don't even have a first house like this, let alone a holiday house in Mozambique. The views were simply breathtaking, and rather than try and describe them I will let the pictures tell the story here.
Sunrise At Kingfisher Bay
Peet's big passion is fishing, a passion he has indulged in for some forty years now, and the fishing in Vilanculos is very good to say the least. Our first attempt was cut short by an unexpected swell of close to five metres, although all was not lost, as this aborted fishing trip started the process of arranging Mum and Dad's wedding (of which the full story will follow in the next blog).
Dad Getting To Grips With A Tuna
Day two on the fishing front was, in mine and Dad's eyes at least, a huge success - although Peet and Nico said they had experienced hundreds of better days. Still, Dad and I both caught some nice fish, including a double catch of Rock Cod each, a small Tuna and a King Mackerel. Technically we were not meant to keep the Rock Cod, as they were caught inside the Vilanculos National Park, but seeing as there was nobody to prevent us doing so we took them home for dinner. This is, without doubt, the nicest fish I have ever eaten and I recommend that everyone catches an illegal Rock Cod and eats it.
The Illegal Rock Cod
The King Mackerel
Having spent the best part of six weeks sleeping in dorms and living on a tight budget it was a pleasure to have a little bit of luxury again - with luxury being my own room and hot water, as well as staff to do the cooking, washing and anything else I happened to need doing. I have to say, whilst this was a privilege it was not one I would want everyday. As odd is this may sound to some people I actually take great pleasure in doing everything myself, and knowing I am self-sufficient, rather than coming to expect people to do things for me.
A Dead Shark
The fishing and wedding aside the week was spent in a very relaxed state of mind, so much so that most days started with a gin and tonic after breakfast and consisted of plenty of reading, lounging around, walks on the beach and just generally recharging the batteries, which is just what the doctor ordered. Before bringing this entry to an end I must just once again say a huge thank you to Sue and Peet for their incredible hospitality. That's all for now, join me for a wedding in paradise in the next blog.
A Boat With A View
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 14, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique

A Wedding in Paradise
Vilankulo, Mozambique
The Wedding Boat At Benguerra Island
If someone had, at the start of this trip, told me I would be attending my parents wedding in Vilanculos I would have quite literally laughed at them. But, thirteen years after the initial proposal, Mum and Dad finally got married at North Point on Benguerra Island.
The Ride To North Point Beach
It had started as a normal day, Peet, Dad and myself were off fishing whilst Mum and Sue were going to spend the day relaxing at North Point - which for the record is one of the most perfect beaches in the world. All was going to plan until the swell picked up to around five metres and our fishing plans were scuppered, prompting a return to North Point for a few rum and cokes whilst we made a new plan for the day.
The Wedding Party
That plan was to take the boat to Benguerra Lodge and have a drink there before heading back to mainland. Only one drink lead to two, and two drinks lead to a wedding being planned. As is, or should I now say was, often the case the topic of why Mum and Dad weren't married came up over drinks, which is not unusual. What was unusual was Mum didn't try and change the subject, but rather made a pact with me that if I could find a priest she would get married whilst in Mozambique.
The Happy Couple At The Wedding Chapel
Not one to waste time no sooner had she shaken my hand than I was up and off to get Mum and Dad married, with a little help from Benguerra Lodge. Two days later and we were wading out towards Peet's boat heading back to Benguerra Island for Mum and Dad's wedding - a day I know Dad had been longing for for many years.
I Take Thee....
After a drinks reception at Benguerra Lodge it was on to North Point where the wedding chapel had been prepared, in a very African style. With the English speaking minister being on holiday we had to settle for a minister who only spoke Portuguese, which meant a good friend of Sue and Peet's came along to translate so we would all understand.
You May Now Kiss The Bride
The wedding itself was simple yet beautiful, and from my point of view it was a very special day to finally see two people, so clearly in love, uniting their relationship in matrimony. Not that I have never seen our family as anything but that, but with Mum and Dad finally getting married it also united us as a complete family. With the vows completed, Mum and Dad were officially husband and wife, a day I think most of us didn't think we would see!
The Happy Couple
After enjoying the sunset and a camp fire it was time to depart, leaving Mum and Dad at the Lodge for the night, whilst the rest of the wedding party braved the journey back home in Peet's boat. It was interesting to say the least, dark skies, choppy waters, merry (to say the least) passengers and a skipper who only knew one speed - flat out.
Whilst it was not something Mum and Dad had planned on doing whilst in Mozambique their wedding was a special day, one that they will never forget, and certainly one I will never forget. So all that is left to say is, congratulations Mum and Dad.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 18, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique

A Welcome Return To South Africa
Nelspruit, South Africa
Look What I Can See
I had initially planned to head north towards Zambia from Vilanculos, that was until Mum and Dad had invited me to travel through Botswana with them and Alena and I had decided we would spend a week together in and around the Kruger Park and Blyde River Canyon area.
Hippo Head In Full Flight
Having met Alena in Tofo, where we spent a week together, it was clear there was a special connection between us and thus we decided before she went back to Germany, and I continued on with my travels, we had to spend another week together. A week that saw us have an amazing time exploring and two of the best days ever in the Kruger Park.
One, Two, Three, Weeeeee
The week started in Nelspruit, which is not the most inspiring of towns, but gave us the perfect base to rent a car from and plan the next step of our trip. The road took us towards Hazyview, where we camped for two nights, but not before stopping off at Mac Mac Pools for a rather refreshing swim. Having stayed in a hotel the first few nights it was nice to sleep in a tent, and be able to have a camp fire on arriving in Hazyview.
Don't Look Back Now
I must admit that it was Alena's fire-starting skills that enabled us to have fire. My fire-starting ability usually relies on petrol or any other flammable liquid I can find, where as Alena is a touch more gifted when it comes to making fire. However, once the fire was going I had no problems taking it from a small contained camp fire into something that you could burn a witch on.
Trousers The African Way
From our base in Hazyview we took advantage of the natural beauty of the area, taking a mountain bike ride through the forest to an amazing waterfall, where we found a rope swing to amuse ourselves on. It was whilst in Hazyview that I found out Alena had never been to the Kruger Park, and thus the next few days of our trip were planned for us - we would take the car and tent into the park and stay overnight there.
I Give You Melman
Taking our own car into the Kruger made me realise this is in fact the only way to do the Kruger. Rather than having some mad Steve Irwin wannabe hurtling around at a hundred miles an hour trying to spot an elephant's backside to say he showed you one of the big five, you can in fact take your leisurely time and see so much more of what the park has to offer.
He's Behind You!
In the two days we were there we saw everything you could want to see, apart from a lion, but our cheetah experience more than made up for that. With the sun set and dark approaching we saw what looked like a lioness cross the road up in front of us, which caused great excitement as we pulled over where we thought she had gone back into the bush. At first we didn't see anything, and then suddenly I realised it was not a lioness we had seen, but a cheetah, and what's more it was sat less than a metre in front of us.
What You Looking At Punk?
Alena slowly pulled the car forward, so that we were right next to the cheetah, and there we sat for close to a minute whilst the cheetah sat there without a care in the world before getting up and sauntering off. Now I have been lucky to see some great wildlife in my life but never have I been so close to such a revered wild cat - it set my pulse racing and is something I wont forget in a hurry. The only downside was that by this stage of the day the battery on my camera had died, so saldy no pictures for you all to see!
Give Us A Kiss!
On leaving the park our week was sadly coming towards an end, but not before a trip to the Sudwela Caves, which are the oldest known caves in the world, before heading to Johanesburg. Saying goodbye to Alena at the airport was not easy, especially given how our feelings had grown for each other, but knowing I will see her again on my journey makes things a little easier.
It was at the airport where I met Mum and Dad again and set off for a week in Botswana, of which the story will follow shortly, so join us again at the same time next week for the latest adventures of one boy's story of living the dream in Africa.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 28, 2009 from Nelspruit, South Africa

The Wild Side Of Botswana
Gweta, Botswana
Ready To Hit The Road
As a backpacker it is almost impossible to see the true Botswana without being part of an overland tour or having your own 4x4 vehicle. I was lucky enough to have a week in Botswana with Mum and Dad, who had hired a fully kited out truck to get a feel for what they were getting themselves into with purchasing their own back in Wales.
Two Happy African Campers
No sooner had we entered Botswana than we opted for the minor road over the main one, which basically meant we were heading north along the banks of the Limpopo River on a dirt track. Whilst I had experienced this sort of road before it was a new concept to Mum and Dad, and thus took a little getting used to, but soon we were up to speed and headed north a happy bunch.
Not So Comfy Campers
After a gruelling (for Mum and Dad at least) five hours driving it was time to set up camp for the night, and where better to camp than right on the bank of the Limpopo River where one could watch for hippos and crocs to the symphony of Vervet Monkeys playing games in the trees overhead. The truck was kited out with two roof tents, that whilst not small were not exactly big which lead to quite a comical night's sleep - choruses of laughter accompanied every movement Mum and Dad made in the night. Where as I was more than comfortable in my tent Mum and Dad were wedged into theirs like sardines in a tin, and watching Dad, all 6ft6 of him, trying to get out in the morning was simply classic.
I Eat Pieces Of Sh*t Like You For Breakfast
I've Got The Horn
Packed and ready for the off our journey took us further north into the Tuli Block where we would be staying at Mashatu Game Reserve for two nights. I have, over the course of my life, been lucky enough to visit some special places in this world but few can match Mashatu and all that went with it. For starters it is southern Africa's largest private game reserve at over 30,000 hectares, and with no perimeter fences you really are in the wild. On top of that main camp is one of the most idyllic places I have stayed, there are not many places in the world you can sit eating your dinner watching an elephant drinking at the water hole.
Elephants At The Watering Hole
In our time there we had four game drives, two early morning sunrise drives and two late afternoon sunset drives, and saw more wildlife than you would care to shake a stick at. Given that it is a private reserve there is no need to stick to the tracks, but rather Fish, our personal ranger, got us so close to the animals it was quite surreal at times. When you are sat within ten metres of a wild lion, looking him straight in the eye, you can't help but feel inferior and in awe.
Time For A Drink
Fish warned us not to make any movements, as this would constitute a challenge to the lion and when you are sat in an open air truck with no doors there is only going to be one winner. If I thought the lion was impressive it faded into near insignificance compared to the leopard we tracked for almost an hour. The leopard is an animal of immense beauty and grace, and given that most sightings are brief this was, even for Fish who has worked at Mashatu for twenty-eight years, a rare treat.
Me And Our Ranger Fish
Having tracked it along the dried riverbed we had to make a hasty exit in order to see it stalk two impala back on the open plains. Sadly, for us but not the impala, there was a lack of cover for the leopard to operate with and it was thus unable to attempt a kill. So it was back into the riverbed to watch it climb an almighty Mashatu tree (the tree the reserve is named after) as it hunted for a guinea fowl to snack on. It was here he disappeared into the branches and we left knowing we had experienced something only a handful ever will.
Marty (Watch Madagascar) And His Friend
As majestic as seeing the lion and leopard was, being a elephant lover the piece de resistance was without a doubt the vast herds of elephants we had the pleasure of following and observing. In the past I had on a few separate occasions seen a maximum of four elephants together, but here we saw herds of up to fifty, and at one stage had over two hundred walking past us as we stood atop a small hill drinking coffee early in the morning.
Three Day Old Baby Elephant
At one stage we were parked by a section of the river with a small pool of muddy water, no more than twelve metres from the truck, watching a three day old elephant playing in the mud. It was comical, cute and magical all at once and quite honestly I could have spent hours watching the little fella rolling in the mud, struggling to find his feet and working out how to use his trunk, which was clearly still something of a mystery to him.
The Leopard We Tracked
It is one thing to see these animals on television documentaries, or even in wildlife parks, but to come face-to-face with them in their own environment is quite something. Here they are in charge, this is their turf and they will defend it according to their natural instinct, which basically means attacking to kill if they feel threatened or challenged in any way.
Three Happy Safari Goers
Given the time we had here it was a wrench to leave, but safe to say I will at some stage in my life be going back to Mashatu, the land where the giants walk, the land where you can be at one with these giants, a land where dreams can come true.
The King Of All The Animals
They Call Me Mr Pig
A Creature Of Beauty
An Elephant Crossing
Eye Spy With My Little Eye Something Begining With E
Mum And Dad Living The Dream
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 5, 2009 from Gweta, Botswana

Nothing To Do In Kubu
Gweta, Botswana
Welcome To My Paradise
After two days of pure amazement at Mashatu it was only right we spent a few days doing nothing but reflecting on what we had just experienced, and relaxing in every sense of the word. And where better to do that than at Kubu Island in the middle of the Sowa Pans.
Happy Travellers En Route To Kubu Island
Having stocked up on enough food, water and alcohol to last two days we set off towards Lethlakane, from where it is possible to drive out onto Sowa Pan. Sowa Pan is like nothing I have experienced before. For starters there is no electricity, no running water, no houses, nothing but vast stretches of moon-like scenery as far as the eye can see. As we drove towards Kubu Island, which is actually only an island in the true sense of the word during the rainy season, the odd clumps of grass appeared, finally giving way to a small cluster of trees on the horizon.
Baobab By Sunlight
The trees began to grow in stature, until we were only a few kilometres away and suddenly all I could see was giant Baobab trees everywhere set among vast boulders. This was Kubu Island, a place where one can forget they are on planet earth and in fact forget that anybody else is alive apart from themselves. In the two days we spent there, apart from two park rangers who camp there, we saw one other family, who left on our first morning leaving us in this little piece of paradise alone - or at least that's what I thought.
Welcome To Our Campsite
Alena had inspired me to downgrade from dorms to a tent and thus I got myself one before we crossed the border into Botswana, and Kubu gave me the first chance to use it. With Mum and Dad safely tucked up in a their own roof tents I was down on the ground in my new home, and it didn't take long before I had my first visitor, albeit a rather unexpected one.
The Perfect Setting For A Campfire
I had drifted off to sleep, with the doors opened so only a mosquito mesh separated me from the outside world, only to be awoken by a sniffing and scratching at the edge of my tent. I thought it would be some small animal having an inquisitive look around our campsite, so it was without a second thought I poked my head out of the door. It took me all of 0.0009 seconds to retract my head and zip the tent back up. What I thought was a small animal was in fact a brown hyena - not exactly what you want to see in the small hours of the morning with nothing but darkness surrounding you.
King Of The Baobabs
A tentative, yet firm, kick against the side of the tent where I spotted the hyena was enough to discourage it and allow me to return to a fitful sleep - funnily enough my thoughts were more concerned with the possibility of further visits from wild animals than with getting a good night's sleep. Upon waking in the morning I couldn't decide if I had just had a bizarre dream or not, that was until I looked around my tent to find a plethora of sizeable paw prints in the sand.
Riding Along On My Automobile!
Needless to say the second night's sleep was a little restless, yet despite a few strange noises I thankfully had no further visitors to my tent door. Our time there was spent doing little more than reading, sleeping, and reconnecting with nature - something everybody needs to do from time to time. Without a doubt the highlight of every day at Kubu is sunrise, sunset and something I have never seen before - the moon setting.
Baobab At Sunrise
Given that the pans used to be seabed it is no surprise they are almost perfectly flat, which lends to the most amazing scenes and colours during dawn and dusk. In the morning the sky is lit up in a dark pink long before the sun pokes its nose over the horizon, but when it does shafts of molten orange spew over the earth's surface scorching all that it envelops. Sunset is equally as impressive, with shades of red and pink I have never seen before etching their mark into the sky, a sort of red carpet for the moon to dance along as it takes over the nightshift.
It was whilst sat around the campfire on the first night there that the three of us noticed the moon sinking, heavy under the weight of the night's sky. Closer it came towards the horizon, being forced lower and lower until finally it began to slide out of view as if somebody had it on a string pulling it into their world and away from ours. Soon followed the stars, all sliding as if the canvas they were painted on was melting, everything slowly dripping towards the abyss that lay below.
My lasting memory of Kubu will be the Baobabs at sunrise. I have always said if I was a tree it would be a Baobab, or the upside down tree as they are more affectionately known, and to see them in such brilliant light was a true pleasure. Sadly we only had two days at Kubu, as I could have easily spent four or five there, and in leaving my time with Mum and Dad was all but an end, but not without some truly amazing memories that have enriched my trip yet further.
Sunset At Kubu Island
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 7, 2009 from Gweta, Botswana

Following Livingstone's Trail
Livingstone, Zambia
The Falls In All Of Their Glory
Having finally made my way from Lethlakane, where I said so long to Mum and Dad, to Kasane I was all set to cross the border between Botswana and Zambia, but not before a rather testing night in my tent.
When it rains in Africa it rains, and when that rain is a tropical storm anybody not in a watertight location finds out about it, as I did on this fateful night. Reports of rain heading towards the area were not wrong, and knowing the rain was imminent I decided to settle into my tent before they arrived. No sooner had I zipped up the door than the first smatterings of rain could be heard on the waterproof cover of my tent.
Looking Along The Falls
As the rain intensified the rumbles of thunder grew louder, accompanied by constant flashes of lightening, until finally the storm was literally above my head. The combination of the noise of the thunder and the violent streaks of lightening gave me some idea as to what it would be like to be at the heart of a bomb raid, minus the actual bombs that is. With the wind howling my tent was under a major attack from the elements, and as I expected the first leak began at the door.
Four hours of rain later, seven full cups of water caught from the leaks and the storm had passed, giving me the chance to poke my head out and asses the damage. I was greeted by the sight of mud rivers running either side of my tent, leaving me questioning my desire to pack up camp and head to Zambia in a little under six hours time. After a brief sleep I awoke to find the rivers had ceased flowing and the sun was doing its best to fight through the clouds.
The Craziest Border Crossing Yet - Zambia!
This was all the encouragement I needed and before long I was packed up and on my way to the Zambian border - which is one of the wildest, unorganised operations I have ever come across. The fact there is no bridge over the Zambezi, which separates Zambia from Botswana, makes life there very interesting. A ferry goes back and forth all day long, taking one lorry, one car and as many people as can cram onto it, creating chaos every time it docks. Due to only being able to take one lorry at a time there are, on both sides of the river, seemingly endless queues of lorries waiting to cross. Talking to one driver he explained when it's busy he can expect to sit and wait for anywhere between two and three weeks just to cross the river!
The Smoke That Thunders
Finally in Zambia it was straight to Livingstone, where I was based for a week. The main focus of being here was of course to visit Vic Falls, which was quite an experience, especially given it was the tail end of the rainy season and the level of the river was higher than usual. From my backpackers I could see the mist that is thrown up by the falls, known as 'the smoke that thunders', as it literally looks like the smoke from a massive fire, combined with the sound of the waterfall itself.
Two Great Explorers - Livingstone And Leach!
After a few days of relaxing in Livingstone, and letting my tent dry out, it was off to the falls - which included a failed attempt to go to Zimbabwe for a day. Despite having been told a fair amount about the falls nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced. As I said the falls throw up great plumes of mist, and due to the high water levels at this time of year they can all but make the falls disappear behind a white veil of water. Due to this when I first got there I couldn't actually see the falls, that was until the wind blew the mist away revealing the most magnificent sight.
Down By The Boiling Pot
I couldn't help but think what Livingstone himself must have thought when he stumbled across the falls - not knowing he was going to find them and just stumbling across them. As far as explorers and travellers go Livingstone is right up there in my list of heroes, one of the real trailblazers in that sense. At 1700m wide and 107m deep the falls are a wonderful force of nature, one that left me realising just how small and insignificant we as a race are in comparison to the natural elements.
Getting Wet At The Falls
With the first sightings of the falls out of the way it was time to cross 'The Knife-edge Bridge', in order to walk down to the far end of the stretch of land that forms the gorge where the falls dump the masses of water that flows over them. It is at the bridge where the mist thrown up is at it's worst, resulting in going from bone dry to saturated in under a second. It made the storm in Botswana seem like a light shower, but unlike in Botswana I was more than happy to be in the middle of it.
The Bridge To Zimbabwe
Once over the bridge there are two paths, the one that takes you right along the front of the gorge and continues the drenching process, and then a relatively dry one. Obviously I opted for the wet route, reasoning that it couldn't get any worse than the bridge - clearly I was wrong. It went from torrential rain to someone holding a power hose above my head as I walked along, which given the setting gave me a feeling of total freedom as the water washed over me.
I left the falls feeling totally invigorated, if not a little damp, but safe in the knowledge I had seen one of the true wonders of Africa.
The Knife-Edge Bridge
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 8, 2009 from Livingstone, Zambia

A Night To Remember
Livingstone, Zambia
Sunset At Vic Falls
Take a full moon, a cloudless sky, Vic Falls and a sprinkling of stars, mix them all together and what do you get? Quite simply the single most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life - a lunar rainbow.
The Lunar Rainbow Crew
I had been to the falls a few days before full moon, and at first wasn't sure if I would venture back there again, and given I had the chance to watch my first game of rugby in a long while, I almost didn't go again. But thank god I did, as it was breath-taking, as you can see from the pictures - which I must point out were all taken at night, even though some appear to be during the day.
Where's The Pot Of Gold....
Armed with a picnic that could have fed the five thousand, seven of us arrived at the falls just in time for sunset, which in itself was a site to behold. The sky burning a crimson red over the falls, the sound of thunder reverberating deep below us, rising up through your feet into the pit of your stomach, whilst all around plumes of mist rise into the air.
Can You Spot The Rainbow
Having been told the rainbow first appears at the far end of the falls, where the water escapes into the boiling pot and onwards down the Zambezi, we set off for the furthest point one can walk to. In order to get there you have to be prepared to get wet, very, very wet - the kind of wetness one can only get from having a bath emptied over their head.
Lunar Rainbow From Behind The Falls
But once at the far end of the falls, wet and cold, we caught the first sighting of the rainbow. Suddenly all the talking stopped and thoughts of being cold evaporated as each and everyone of us was completely overcome with what we were seeing. It was a perfectly clear night, not a cloud to be seen, the stars shining proudly and there right in front of us the most perfect rainbow you will ever care to see.
First Sighting Of The Lunar Rainbow
The rainbow comes due to a combination of the endless mist that hangs in the air at the falls and the light of a full moon. Whilst you can't always see every layer of colour perfectly the arc of brilliant light never fades, and when the mist dies down slightly, as it does from time to time, the colours become more prominent. Standing there, with what is like torrential rain (but in fact is just the mist falling) relentlessly beating down on you, the roar of the falls and this mesmeric sight was worth every second of work I put in to save for this trip. These are the experiences you can't put a price on, that will stay with me forever.
With the moon getting higher in the night's sky the arc of the rainbow was constantly changing, and at one stage it was close to creating a full circle of colour. After a while we accepted it was either move and get dry or stay and get a nasty cold, so we moved to the banks of the river just at the edge of the falls. Here we were able to watch the rainbow slowly fade away, because of the angle of the light from the moon.
Eating a picnic on the banks of the Zambezi, whilst watching a lunar rainbow, has to rate as one of the finer dining experiences of my life - never before has a simple sandwich tasted so good as it did here. Sadly the rainbow eventually disappeared, but it will never disappear from my mind.
It was pure luck that I happened to be in Livingstone when there was a full moon, but a word of advice to anybody ever going there in the future, make sure you plan to be there for a full moon so that you can experience the lunar rainbow. It is one of the things you must see before your time in this world is up.
Lost In A Rainbow Dream
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 10, 2009 from Livingstone, Zambia

Grub's Up
Livingstone, Zambia
Step 1: Take One Plate Of Caterpillars
My desire to experience as much African culture as possible lead to one of the more interesting dinners I have eaten, not just on this trip but in my life. Fried vinkubala, or caterpillars to you and me, was not a meal I particularly enjoyed, and it is safe to say I wont be eating them again. But as the old saying says, when in Rome...
Step 2: Boil the caterpillars
I had only gone into the market in Livingstone to purchase a few vegetables, yet came back to my backpackers with an unusual taste in my mouth and half of kilo of dried caterpillars in my bag. You could say I only have myself to blame, as had I just walked past Banyina's stall I would never have brought the damn things, but curiosity got the better of me when I saw a giant dish full of fat grubs.
Step 3: Fry Caterpillars And Vegetables
At first I didn't believe people actually ate them, that was until Banyina - the lovely lady who was selling them - grabbed a handful and started popping them into her mouth like sweets. She offered me one to taste for myself, but as much as I wanted to just grab one and eat it my hand wouldn't do as my brain was telling me - if only I had taken this as a sign I would have eaten spaghetti bolognase for dinner as planned.
Step 4: Get Memory To Stir And Taste
Finally, after a few locals had eaten some to prove they were not so bad, I took one and put it straight in my mouth without thinking about it - past experiences had taught me not to think about the weird foods you are eating. At first I thought this isn't so bad, apart from being very dry and crunchy there was no real taste, but then this odd taste filled my mouth leaving me in desperate need for something a lot tastier to eat. Sensing this Banyina handed me a carrot which I began crunching on instantly, much to the delight of my taste buds.
Step 5: Add Tomato, Onion, Salt And Chilli
Despite this less than enjoyable experience I thought I may as well buy some and see what they are like cooked, and so I left the market with a bag full of them and a recipe that I was assured would make them a whole lot tastier. Back at the backpackers, and after a few drinks to take my mind off the thought of dinner, I began the cooking process.
Banyina Mutinta's Caterpillar Delight
Ingredients:
Lots of dried vinkubala (caterpillars)
3 fresh tomatoes
3 onions
3 green peppers
Large bunch of kalembula (sweet potato leaves)
5 cloves of garlic
3 Fresh chillies
Lots of salt
Cooking oil
Method:
Bring a large pan of water to the boil, add dried caterpillars and take off the heat. Allow the caterpillars to sit in the water and rehydrate for ten minutes. In the meantime cut two onions, two tomatoes and all three of the green peppers into small pieces and fry them in a pan with the kalembula, chillies and garlic.
Step 6: Serve With Fresh Vegetable Stir Fry
Once the caterpillars are hydrated, and big and squishy and slimy, drain them and add to a pan with hot cooking oil in. Fry those lovely little would-be-butterflies until they are crispy, adding as much salt as you desire. Once crispy add the remaining onion and tomato, finely chopped, into the pan with a little chilli and allow to fry for a further five minutes.
Step 7: Eat And Try To Look Like They Are Tasty
Serve together with the kalembula mix and as much extra chilli you need to mask the taste of the caterpillars.
Whilst I ate a good twenty caterpillars I cant say they were particularly nice, and left an unsavoury taste in the back of my throat all night. And no matter how many beers I drank the taste was still there, as it was the following morning when I woke up.
So in case anybody doubts me on this, take my word for it, caterpillars are not, I repeat not, a suitable replacement for spaghetti bolognase or any other food. In fact they should be left to do what mother nature intended of them, turn into butterflies. But if you still doubt me venture into the market in Livingstone and ask for Banyina Mutinta and she will gladly sell you a bag full to try for yourself.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 11, 2009 from Livingstone, Zambia

The 'Kalomo Butcher' Saga
Kalomo, Zambia
Monday 11th May 2009
The Kalomo Butcher With His Wives Beverly (red) Groble (pink) And Loveness (black)
Police in Zambia are on the hunt for the man responsible for the murder of two innocent chickens in the quite community village of Simakakata on the outskirts of Kalomo. The suspect, 25-year-old Marcus Leach, is believed to have fled to Malawi to slip the Zambian police's attention, although as of yet there have been no sightings of him there.
Heads Up
An eye witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, revealed how it was just another quiet day in Simakakata, the school was full of innocent laughter, elderly women stood under the shade of trees gossiping as the sun warmed the backs of hard working farmers and all seemed well. Yet just metres away from the local school an ugly double murder was taking place, as recanted here by our eye witness.
It's Almost Off Now
"The man looked like a killer, with shaggy hair and a bushy beard he seemed the sort who would just slay innocent chickens," our source said. "He was aided by three local women, who it is rumoured he took as his wives as part of the killing ritual, one of whom seemed responsible for the kidnapping of the chickens. She arrived on the scene with the chickens tied together at their feet and with no chance of survival, and that is where that monster of a man took control.
Seconds From Death The Chicken Knew She Was Doomed
"Holding the animals down with his feet he showed no mercy in cutting their heads off with a blunt knife. From where I was standing, out of their sight, I could see the animals twitching and fighting for their lives, but it was futile as he butchered them with a look of pleasure on his face. The poor animals were still twitching and clucking after their heads had been severed, it was ghastly.
"He seemed to rejoice in the killing of these animals, holding their heads up as trophies afterwards. I just hope the authorities catch him as he is clearly clucking mad."
This Is What They Call Sticking The Knife In
When police arrived on the scene they found the chickens hacked into small pieces, fuelling the belief that Leach will strike again if given the chance, and given the number of chickens in Africa that is a very real possibility. Whilst all three women believed to have married Leach during his stay in Simakakata have been arrested none are prepared to reveal information on his whereabouts.
Mr Zikani Lockemup'Nthrowawaythekey, head of Kalomo police, believes Leach is armed, dangerous and more than capable of killing again.
"Such butchery, whilst skilled, shows we are dealing with a crazy individual," said Mr Lockemup Nthrowawaythekey. "Further to that it is understood he is carrying a Leatherman and will stop at nothing to spill more innocent chicken blood."
The hunt for the killer continues, but in the meantime we advise everybody to lock up their chickens and alert police immediately if you happen to spot Mr Leach.
Wednesday 13th May 2009
Cut Her Clucking Head Off
The hunt for Marcus Leach, the man dubbed as the 'Kalomo Butcher', has moved to Malawi after police investigations revealed he had left Zambia in the early hours of Tuesday morning under the cover of darkness.
Immigration officials at the Mchinji border post confirmed Leach had indeed entered Malawi on a bus headed for Lilongwe, but had not been seen since. Zambian police continued to question his three wives, but all swore they would rather suffer the same fate as the chickens than give up their husband to the authorities.
Two Heads Are Better Than One
Both the Malawian and Zambian police have admitted they have very few leads to go on, although an envelope containing pictures of the crime was found at a backpackers in Lusaka. The gruesome images provide conclusive evidence that Leach is indeed the killer of these two chickens, who have been identified as sisters Lizzy and Bessie Feathers.
"I have seen some pretty grim stuff in my time with the police force, but this tops it all," said one of the investigating officers. "Above all it shows we are dealing with a disturbed individual who takes immense enjoyment out of his murders."
With the Zambian police at a loss with their side of the investigation the onus is now very much on their Malawian counterparts. With the search continuing the police have pleaded for anybody with any information to come forward as soon as possible.
Sunday 17th May 2009
Lizzy And Bessie Having A Hot Bath
The following is taken from a live broadcast the Kalomo Butcher gave late last night from a secure lake shore location, where it seems he is living quite the life in an all expenses paid chalet on the edge of the lake.
"Whilst I admit to killing the chickens I must stress it was not in cold blood, but in fact part of my cooking for senior members of the local community," Leach revealed. "It is not something I have done before, or will be in a hurry to do again, but it was a necessary evil that I took responsibility for.
Two Of The Butcher's Wives At Work
"I did feel for those poor chickens as I cut through their necks with a blunt knife, especially when they started twitching violently as the blade ripped their skin open. The worst part for me was getting half way through the second chicken's neck before letting it's head slip from my grip, meaning it was flapping around fighting for life with just a bit of skin holding it's head on.
Butchered According To The Colonel's Standards
"Pictures were taken purely on a professional basis so that I can accompany articles I write for my job with images of my journey through Africa. What makes me laugh is a boiled and then fried over fifty caterpillars and nobody bats an eyelid, but kill a few chickens and suddenly people think you are a psychopathic killer with a thirst for fresh blood.
Two Naked Birds - Result!
"Ask any of those who ate the feast I prepared and they will attest to my story, and further to that will tell you just how good the food was. I even have the recipe should anybody need a copy. For now I will stay at my secure retreat on the banks of Lake Malawi until police have spoken to village chiefs to clear my name and announce me innocent."
Tuesday 19th May 2009
All charges against Marcus Leach relating to the murder of two chickens in the Simakakata community near Kalomo have been dropped following a statement provided by the village chief.
Mr Zikani Lockemup'Nthrowawaythekey, the senior investigating officer, declared the case closed after Gift Mpenza, the village chief, confirmed the chickens had indeed been killed for a royal feast, and not in cold blood as had first been believed.
"Was food for my dinner," was all Mr Mpenza had to say in between mouthfuls of succulent chicken. The only remaining doubt centred around the manner in which the chickens had been prepared for this feast. But in order to be sure that the chickens had indeed been butchered according to the International Chicken Butchery standards Colonel Sanders of Kalomo Food Company (KFC) was brought in to carry out forensics.
"All I can say is them chickens were killed right and good, and they tasted finger lickin' good," said the KFC forensics chief, with chicken grease all over his white beard.
Despite being cleared of any wrongdoing Mr Leach is refusing to leave his hideout on the lake, citing the natural beauty of the area as his reason for staying there for the next two months. He was unable to comment at the time, given he was floating aimlessly in the lake without a care in the world.
The Aftermath Of The Killing
written by  MarcusInAfrica on May 24, 2009 from Kalomo, Zambia

Weclome to the Village
Nkhata Bay, Malawi
Welcome to Nhkata Bay
Having been on the move for the best part of three months my journey through Africa has dropped down a few gears since arriving in Malawi, as I always knew it would. The journey from Lusaka to Lilongwe was interesting to say the least, and it was with a great sense of relief that I made it back to a country that is very close to my heart in one piece.
The View From Work
When I was in Malawi last year I made tentative plans to return to Nkhata Bay in order to work, and as luck would have it life has brought me back here to capitalise on that chance. Situated on the shores of Lake Malawi there is a backpackers that is like no other I have stayed in before, and easily makes it in to my top three of all time.
Mayoka's Bar - Where All The Work Gets Done
Allow me to introduce you to Mayoka Village, my home for the next two months. Built on the shore of the lake this community based backpackers is tucked away at the foot of a hill and offers anyone who ventures there the most relaxing of times. There is not a room in the place without a view of the lake, which is a majestic sight as the sun dances over it's surface.
Another Busy Day At Work
In my time I have worked behind a few bars, and given they have all been in Cardiff the views from behind the bar have often been of drunken Valley girls that make hippos look attractive, or fights to mate with said hippo-girls. Here, thankfully, it is different, here I work behind a bar looking out over the lake, a sight that can't be beaten as far as bar views go.
A Perfect Place To Chill
And it's not as if it's a hard life as far as my work goes, four nights a week in return for all my food and accommodation - and those who know me will understand I can eat a lot of food! Look up the meaning of the word 'work' in the dictionary and I am pretty sure you won't find any mention of playing pool or socialising with fellow backpackers, yet during an avergae seven hour shift at least two are spent doing exactly that.
Welcome to My Office
Away from work life in Nkhata Bay is slow to say the least, with nobody but a small gang of craftsmen in a hurry to do anything at all - and these guys are only in a hurry to get your money so they can return to the rigours of getting high or drunk. One can while away days lazing by, or in, the lake, wandering the dusty sreets of the small town or simply sat under a tree with a good book.
The Path to Freedom
Up until now I have been on the move quite reguarly, and whilst that has its advantages there is one down side from my writing point of view - just as you are begining to scratch at the surface of life in any given country it is time to move on. However, with a permanent base here for the next two months it allows me to really explore and delve into the culture here in Malawi. And remember for those who want to see what I really do whilst travelling visit
written by  MarcusInAfrica on June 1, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

The Mzungu Express
Nkhata Bay, Malawi
Ever since arriving in Malawi I had been toying with the idea of buying a local bicycle as a means of transport, as well as offering me another medium for fitness. And with the most expensive African bicycle costing a touch under $100 I couldn't resist, and so I am now the proud owner of an Eagle Road Runner.
The Eagle Road Runner In All It's Glory
With my bicycle safely back in Nkhata Bay my mind began to tick over, and no sooner was I riding it around than an idea popped into my head. Whilst in Malawi last year I remember using bicycle taxis, more commonly known as 'cyclomento', and seeing there wasn't a single one here in Nkhata Bay I decided to become the first official cyclomento.
One Man and His Bicycle
You don't need a licence to run a cyclomento business, but you will need a few modifications to your standard African bicycle. First I needed a comfy seat for any potential passenger, and so it was off to the carpenter to have a cushioned seat made, which I have to say is just like sitting on a sofa. Next it was off to the welders to have reinforced steal supports put under the seat, after all you can't discriminate between customers based on weight.
The Modifications Begin
As is often the way in Africa you have one job done and it ends up leading to another being required, and so with a new seat and reinforcements fitted it was off to have a full service of my bicycle. A new set of tyres, and a few extra nuts and bolts later and my cyclomento business was one step away from take-off.
Reinforcements for the 'Larger' Customer
The final step, and by far the most important, was the sign for the back of the bicycle. In Malawi the word 'mzungu' means white person, so what better name for my bicycle than 'The Mzungu Express'. Finally my bicycle was ready for business, and so it was off to town to look for customers. It took me all of ten minutes to find my first client, who I cycled just over a kilometre for the handosme sum of 25p, a cheaper taxi in the world I don' think you will find.
A Seat Fit For My Queen (You Know Who You Are!)
Even though business has been a little slow of late, with many seemingly scared to ride with a mzungu, my bicycle has elevated me to something of a minor celebrity in Nkhata Bay. If I am seen walking anywhere now I am flooded with questions enquiring as to where 'The Express' is, and why I am not on it. Even a simple ride to the internet cafe is greeted with a host of shouts and whistles from market stall owners chuffed at seeing a white man on an African bicycle.
An Armchair Ride
Despite it being public knowledge I am here for two months I have already recieved a range of different offers for 'The Express' when I leave. Be it three ducks, five butter fish, a carving of my choice or as much Malawian Gold as I care for there are endless options when it comes to trading my bicycle. But for now I have a business to run and thus 'The Mzungu Express' will remain with me.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on June 4, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

Becoming A Dharma Bum
Ruarwe, Malawi
All Aboard The Llala
I have always been one for the simple life, but having just finished reading The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac, a great read for anybody who is interested, I was motivated to see just how basic a life I could live. And so with that in mind I hopped on the Llala, the ferry that services the lake, and set sail for a little place called Ruarwe.
The Approach to Zulunkhuni
It was my plan to camp here for two days before hiking back to civilisation, with the only catch being I had to be totally self sufficient during that time. Armed with my mbaula (African cooking stove), a healthy supply of food, and even healthier supply of charcoal and my tent I was ready to survive in a manner that is normal for so many people in Africa, yet alien to most of the western world.
Welcome To My Campsite
Before setting off I had seen a few pictures of where I was heading, but no amount of pictures could have prepared me for the natural beauty of Ruarwe and Zulunkhuni River Lodge. Charlie, the enigmatic owner, knew I wanted a spot where I could keep myself to myself, and he didn't fail to deliver. Tucked away at the top of the hill that Zulunkhuni is built at the bottom of is what can only be described as Malawi's most perfect camping spot.
One Happy Camper
Here there is no need for a tent, just a sense of adventure and a willingness to sleep under the stars. So without any hesitation I set-up my camp, which involved putting out my roll-mat and sleeping back before lighting a fire to cook lunch on. With no electricity at night my fire, and a temperamental old oil lamp were my only sources of light. Once they were out I was engulfed in an endless hole of darkness, consumed by the night sky until day break came to release me from its clutches.
The View To The Left Of My Bed
Lying in my bed I had two wonderful views, to my left I looked down to a series of waterfalls and to my right vast expanses of lake filled my field of vision. I often found myself lying there for hours at a time lost in a world of thoughts, mesmerised by what my eyes were seeing. It has taken me three months of my trip but finally I have discovered a way of life I could happily lead - just as in The Dharma Bums where the lead character embarks on a voyage living a life such as this.
Breakfast Is Served
From baking fresh orange oatcakes on my morning fire, to drifting away in my book with nothing but the sound of nature to keep me company I was as happy here as the proverbial pig in sh*t. There is something soothing to the soul falling asleep with the stars shining down on you and the flames of a fire gently licking you with their warm touch.
A Quiet Night In For A Dharma Bum
Society can keep its materialistic brainwashing for someone else, I will take a sleeping bag and be on my way to a happier existence than many chasing money will ever experience. It saddens me that so many people are carried away in a life they feel they should live, rather than having the courage to stand up and be different, to break free from the masses and live the life they want to, not the one society dictates they should.
Sunrise From My Bed
Due to that part of me wants everybody to have the chance to experience this place, but then a selfish thought pops into my mind that tells me to keep this a secret. For it is spots like this, unknown to nearly the entire world, that retain their magic and uniqueness by remaining a secret. So in that most won't be going here I am more than happy to share this little secret with you, just don't go telling anyone else.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on June 5, 2009 from Ruarwe, Malawi

The Week From Hell - Part One
Nkhata Bay, Malawi
Does what it says on the tin
Before embarking on this trip I had, given that I would be in Africa for at least a year, already accepted that at some stage or other I would be the victim of theft, I would catch malaria and would more than likely have at least one incident with the authorities.
However, I didn't figure all of these things would happen in the space of seven days. Yet they did, and by the end of it I was about ready to turn my back on Africa. Suddenly the option of being deported back to England appealed to me, but thankfully I rode it out and am stronger for the experiences I will now share with you.
Welcome to Nkhata Bay Police Station
It had started just like every other Wednesday in Nkhata Bay, a nice leisurely swim followed by breakfast at the lake's edge lapping up the early morning sun. Sat eating my fruit salad little was I to know that things were set to get worse, much worse, over the coming days, starting with Wednesday itself. If somebody had told me at breakfast I would be deported by the end of the day I would have laughed in their face, yet that was exactly what was set to happen.
What should have been a routine visa extension turned into the biggest mess possible. Not only did the immigration official, Mr Mitengo, try and charge me double the price that I knew I had to pay, but he then had the audacity to have me arrested for intimidation, amongst other things, for confronting him on this matter. Now I realise my use of the word 'corruption' may not have been the wisest, but still I found it hard to believe one could be arrested for simply challenging what amounted to attempted corruption.
The scene of THEIR crime!
If that left me baffled, what was to follow left me in a state of utter shock. Despite nobody being in the immigration office other than myself and Mr Mitengo when I got to the police station there was a witness ready to testify against me. What to me had started out as a trivial matter was suddenly becoming a rather serious one. My hope of this being sorted in an amicable and fair manner dropped when I saw the chief of police, Mr Morton Chitsulo, marching over to take charge of my case - not that there was a case in my eyes.
Two hours later it had become a grave situation. A statement, from, and I mean this is the nicest possible way, a local dropout who was not even present at the scene of the 'crime', riddled with lies and inconsistencies had been given against me and things were looking bad. Despite my subtle offer of resolving this matter in another manner, by way of a bribe, it was clear the gentlemen I was dealing with were on a power trip and wanted to make an example of me.
Due to their determination to prove a point I was not in the least bit surprised when they threatened to deport me - although I did think it was a little extreme given my innocence. I was however extremely surprised when they produced the form declaring me a prohibited immigrant in Malawi, which I was forced into signing (the threat of being sent straight to prison if I didn't sign was enough to jolt me out of the daze I had fallen into).
The building on the left is where I was locked up for an hour - not pleasant!
Having started the day in such a fine manner I was now facing up to the prospect of, first having to leave Malawi instantly, and then accepting I could never return here, ever. All I will say is thank the Lord our family knows somebody in Government here, who had enough power, and sense, to realise I was innocent, and further to that was prepared to do something about it. Needless to say Mr Chitsulo and Mr Mitengo were in a state of shock similar to mine from earlier in the day, when a phone call came through ordering them to reverse the deportation order against me.
What made me laugh was the next day when I went to resolve the matter, and get my visa extended, I assumed I would just have to pay the initial price Mr Mitengo had demanded. Yet I was thankfully charged the price I knew it should have been, thus proving I was being set-up from the start. I can laugh about this now, but at the time I was actually pretty worried, and it still worries me that these people have the power to pretty much do as they please, even if people are innocent.
No longer welcome in Malawi
So I must leave 'now days'....
To be continued...
written by  MarcusInAfrica on June 24, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

The Week From Hell - Part Two
Sweating it out in a poncho (taken post malaria, hence the smile!)
No sooner had I recovered from the shock of coming within a high ranking government official's phone call from being deported than my bad luck continued, this time in the form of malaria. I had, earlier in my trip, survived one malaria scare, although this time I was not as fortunate.
I did my best to ignore the early warning signs, not wanting to be seen to be moaning about nothing. The first thing I noticed was a complete lack of energy, and I'm not just talking about feeling tired but utterly exhausted from doing nothing more than waking up and having a shower. When I couldn't muster the energy to walk into town, opting to take a boat ride instead, I should have realised something was wrong.
Not wanting to admit something was wrong I proceeded to finish my daily chores in town before staggering back to the backpackers - a walk that usually takes ten minutes took me thirty and left me feeling worse than when I completed the Cape Argus cycle tour. To top it all of it was a sweltering day and yet there I was shivering in cold sweats in a woolen poncho. Finally I admitted to myself it might be malaria, although as much as I wanted to walk the ten metres to where my malaria testing kits were I simply couldn't get up.
It was only when Nelson, a friend who bares more than a passing resemblance to an eccentric wizard, walked past me and said 'man you look like sh#t' that I knew I had to do something. When he asked if I was feeling weak in my joints and muscles, feverish and suffering from headaches, of which I confessed to all, he had no hesitation in diagnosing me with malaria. It was then that I was shipped off to hospital for blood tests, which confirmed I had +1 malaria (which, thanks to getting tested early, is at the bottom end of the scale, but still pretty bad).
Armed with my medication, and a few bonus valium, I began the slow and painful trek back to the backpackers. Despite my obvious illness every local taxi driver wanted more money than it would cost to fly to Lilongwe to drive me three kilometres, which I refused to pay on principle. That walk back was one of the most challenging of my life, and upon completing it I was spent. You could have quite literally knocked me out with a feather, such was my state of complete exhaustion.
The next two days were spent in a quite horrible state, the fevers continued unabated, my body felt as if the life had been sucked out of it and my head was swimming in a sea of pain. Finally, on day three, with the help of Coartim, the symptoms began to subside, and slowly but surely I felt my energy levels increase, the fevers became less frequent and my head had stopped pounding. It took another three days to finally get back to somewhere near my old self, and with one last bout of energy loss my bad luck was completed.
On passing out on the sofa at the backpackers I didn't think twice about moving my bag next to where I was, such was the sudden drop in energy levels, a costly mistake to say the least. For it was whilst I was dead to the world that I had all the money stolen from my wallet - I guess it's true what they say, 'bad things come in threes'. The amount stolen, roughly fifty pounds, was beside the point, it was the feeling I had knowing someone had stolen my money. Suddenly I was looking at everyone as if they were potential criminals, my faith in the human race total diminshed for a few days.
Now you see it...
Now you don't!
My late gran always used to tell me 'whatever doesn't kill you will only make you stronger', although at the time of all this bad luck I was struggling to take that on baord. Looking back, knowing I survived a torid week, I can now say I am a stronger person for all of what went on, not to mention a wiser one - it will be a long time before I use the word 'corruption' in Africa again, or ignore the warning signs of malaria.
Money issues in Malawi
Thankfully I am back on track now and am preparing to start my PADI open water diving course, which will be followed by a cycle tour along the lakeshore road leading from Nkhata Bay to Lilongwe, of which I will report on as I go. For those who want to they can email me at marcus_leach@hotmail.com

The Wild Goat Chase
The Night's Sky At Chizumulu Island
By now I have learnt that the best laid plans in Africa are susceptible to being disrupted at the last minute, although when I was struck down with a throat infection I could not have wished for a better change in plans. Out went diving followed by a mini cycle tour, and in its place came a week at Chizumulu Island followed by diving - a better two weeks I could not have wished for.
The Leap Of Faith
Having met a trio of South Africans, who are riding through Africa on their bikes, it was off on the ferry headed to Chizumulu Island to experience a different side of Malawi. Situated on the Mozambique side of the lake the islands of Chizumulu and Likoma belong to Malawi and are, arguably, two of the countries most beautiful destinations - although we only managed to visit Chizumulu despite the best intentions of heading to Likoma as well.
Diving Activities
The problem, if you can call it that, with Chizumulu is that it is so relaxing that after three days there the idea of taking a two hour dhow ride across to Likoma seems like a lot of hard work. And thus our group, including a Phil Tuffnel and a Frank the Tank (Old School) look-a-like, spent five days enjoying the delights of Chizumulu and Wakwenda Retreat - which is every bit as delightful as the name itself.
Paus And Dave Battle It Out
With little more than relaxing, walking, volleyball and a host of card games for entertainment it was down to us to invent our own activities when we fancied something a little more challenging to do. Chief of all those extra activities was 'The Wild Goat Chase', which ended with one of the best meals I have eaten on this trip to date. It is worth mentioning at this point that Dave 'Frank the Tank' Gray may argue that night snorkelling was the best activity of the week.
Could This Be The Best Bar In The World?
Upon deciding we wanted a goat braai (BBQ for all you non-South Africans) we opted not to let William, Wakwenda's local barman-cum-goat slaughterer, get the goat, and instead went on the hunt ourselves. And by hunt I mean a walk around the island deciding which goat would suit our needs the best, not a fully fledged hunt armed with rifles and various traps as one may imagine a hunt to be like.
Meet Billie The Goat
After much browsing we settled on a plucky young male who was of a fair size, but not so big as to leave us with an excess of goat meat on our hands. Billie, as he became affectionately known in the hours leading up to his gruesome death, set us back a staggering £20, which when you consider he fed nine of us, plus two locals and four dogs (they took care of the bones!), is not a bad price.
Soon To Be Eaten By William
Despite my chicken killing exploits in Zambia I was not prepared to kill the goat, and having seen how William did it am extremely thankful I turned the chance down, opting to part with the head and testicles instead - William's price for killing and butchering Billie for us. Billie's demise may have been gruesome, leaving us all lost for words for a short while afterwards, but it wasn't so bad as to stop us from feasting on his succulent meat - which was delicious.
William's Price For The Butchering
There is something very satisfying about ripping goat meat of the bone with your teeth, although I am sure any vegetarian readers among you may wish to disagree with me on that point. Still for a meat lover such as myself a meal consisting of 90% goat meat and 10% rice is as good as it comes - if only they could have cut down on the rice it would have been a perfect meal.
A Feast Fit For A King
Billie Meets A Gruesome End
Goat braais aside the highlight of the week was the amazing sunsets, which were often observed from one of the purpose built sundowner decks around the bar. My trip has already thrown up some spectacular sun rises and sets, but I have to admit those we saw at Chizumulu were right up there with the best of them, as I think my pictures will prove.
As Happy As A Man Can Be
Sadly the week had to come to an end, although with diving to look forward to it was not the end of the world. It is safe to say there will be a return to the islands, next time I will muster the energy to head across to Likoma, maybe not on this trip but at some stage in the future.
Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
written by  MarcusInAfrica on July 15, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

The Other Side of the Lake
One Happy Diver
During my time in Nkhata Bay I have met a host of people full of excitement upon completing their PADI Open Water Diving courses, and so I decided it was time for me to take the plunge and see what all the fuss was about. My only previous diving experience came in Hawaii when I was fifteen, although ten years on that was all but a distant memory, and so it was off to Aqua Africa to discover the amazing world that lies under the surface of the lake.
My Dive Buddies John and Louise
My only real knowledge of the aquatic life in the lake came from BBC's Planet Earth series, and knowing that footage was filmed where I would be diving only served to heighten my excitement and anticipation. But before I could explore the depths of the lake I had to learn the basics, and without swelling his ego Johnny is as good an instructor as I could have asked for.
Gearing Up For A Dive
Over the four day course there was a gradual progression of skills, learnt in confined water sessions, leading into open water dives and culminating in a theory exam and a dive purely for pleasure at the end. Throughout the course my love for diving quickly developed, and by the end of it I was eager to take my diving further, with the next logical step being the PADI Advanced Open Water course.
Divers Ready For The Off
It is difficult to explain the feeling one has when swimming fifteen metres below the surface, being able to breath perfectly normally whilst looking at aquatic life that most only see on television. It is almost a state of meditation, floating through the water as endless species of fish swim around you, your mind empty of thoughts and overwhelmed at what it's seeing.
A Perfect Day At Lake Malawi
For me the highlight of the two courses had to be the night dive, which is part of the Advanced Open Water course, although the deep dive to thirty metres was also a special experience. The night dive was the exact dive that the BBC did to film a section of their Planet Earth series, and having seen it several times it was truly remarkable to then witness the show in real life.
Diving with torches, and the natural moonlight, the lake is an eery place in the dark, especially given a whole host of different fish come out - the chief, and most sinister, of these being the Dolphin fish. These long, ugly fish hunt at night, and take advantage of the torch light to find Cichlids to eat, meaning there is always a pack of them swimming within a few feet of you.
What A Lovely Bunch!
If you have a sadistic streak in you, as is the case with me, you can shine your light on an unsuspecting Cichlid and watch as a Dolphin fish snaps him up as a tasty snack. Knowing this there was something of a competition between our group of divers to see who could get the most Cichlids eaten, which is surprisingly good fun. I now expect to have animal rights protestors hounding me for my cruelty to poor Cichlids, but in my defence we were simply speeding up the inevitable - at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
With an offer to come back to Aqua Africa to do my Dive Master course there is a distinct possibility I will be back in Malawi later this year, if not then then when I have finished my travels. Diving has struck a chord in my heart and is something I can see myself getting into in a big way. There will be a few more dives here before taking my new learnt skills to Zanzibar to see a different underwater world again.
I am not normally one for plugging companies, but I feel I would be doing people out of some great advice if I didn't do so now. If you are ever in Malawi and want to learn to dive, or simply want to do a dive, then Aqua Africa and their night dive is an experience not to be missed.
As for me now I have a few days of casual diving before Matt (my brother for those who don't know) arrives out here, which sees the start of the journey towards Tanzania and our hike up Mount Kilimanjaro. Tales of our adventures together will appear here, so come back soon to see what we have been getting up to. And remember for those who want to email me my address is marcus_leach@hotmail.com and you can also see my work for Sky Travel at http://travel.sky.com/inspiration/blogs/Through-African-Eyes
Lazy Days At Aqua Africa
written by  MarcusInAfrica on July 16, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

A Birthday to Remember in Malawi
A birthday message from Mayoka
If I am honest I wasn't really looking forward to my birthday, worrying myself that it could be somewhat of a let down being away from home and without a familiar setting. But, as it turns out, I needn't have worried as it was one of the best birthdays I can remember.
A birthday lunch with a view
Matt had arrived two days prior to the big day, giving him enough time to settle into life in Nkhata Bay and acquaint himself with the incredible group of friends I had come to make during my time at Mayoka Village, and me enough time to both get used to having Matt in Africa with me, and the excitement of seeing him.
Happy to have Matt with me on my birthday
Knowing how much I had loved my night dive on the PADI Advanced Open Water course Johnny and Kate at Aqua Africa gave me an early birthday present, another night dive, which signalled the start of the celebrations, albeit a night early. The only catch was that I sing 'Happy Birthday to Me' at the bottom of the lake, following which I spent forty minutes trying to get as many cichlids killed by dolphin fish as possible.
The Expansion of Hope Tour 2009 - Nick and Luke
The big day itself started with a long overdue beard trim - finally I realised my beard was making me look like Hagrid's stunt double for the new Harry Potter film, something people had been telling me for quite some time, and it was time to tame the beast (which I know at least a few people are very grateful for). Following birthday wishes from home, which is always nice when so far away, and a cool little 'Hippo Head' from Fish (many thanks guy), the day was out of my hands and over to everyone else.
The chefs hard at work
Nick and Luke, the founders of the Expansion of Hope Tour, as well as being two good friends, had arranged to cook lunch at Safari (one of Nkhata Bay's classier local establishments) with their kitchen staff. Beef byrani and a cold beer looking out over Lake Malawi could well be the best birthday lunch a traveller could ask for, short of a whole hog on the spit!
Birthday dinner fit for a king
In keeping with Nkhata Bay's laid back vibe the afternoon was spent lazing around the lake, indulging in a few more beers and a bout of snorkelling before the real celebrations began. Needless to say as the night went on my memory becomes a little vague, which could be due to several factors, but something tells me the main one was a touch too much alcohol.
I do however remember that, following a delicious butterfish braai (bbq for all you non-South Africans), I had two cakes which just about topped the day off. Without doubt the banoffee cake was the pick of the two, sorry Mayoka but your chocolate cake is good but not that good, and was rounded off with a rare treat - a bottle of Captain Morgan's Spiced Gold.
From there the night is a bit of a haze, although I do remember devouring an entire piece of biltong before going to bed, and waking with just a hint of a hangover, and by hint I mean almighty. A big thank you to all those, you know who you are, who played a part in making my birthday on tour such a memorable occassion.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on July 28, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

DABW and the Village
Blantyre, Malawi
Putting the well to good use
Given my minamalistic outlook on life, one where I have little concern for many of the materialistic possessions many are preoccupied with, it was a welcome relief going back to Kenyatta - the village where my late Gran's charity is based. What was even more rewarding was taking Matt there for the first time, an experience I know he will never forget.
Amama with her clan of children
The charity, DABW, was founded over two years ago now and is aimed at community development with in the small village my Gran's nurse (Otillia) comes from. What started as a donation to build a fresh-water well, something the village had lacked in its previous 187 years of existence, has rapidly advanced into the village being granted the electricity they needed to build a corn mill and medical centre.
Chikunt and Miaso do their bit
With this being my second visit, having spent a few days there last year to see where the £7000 I raised was going, I knew what to expect - or at least I thought I did. As we drove down the dusty track, seeing all the innocent smiling faces of children who literally have nothing, the emotions I had experienced a year before came flooding back. Coupled with this being a place I feel my Gran's precence more so than usual it was an emotional return, but a return I was glad to be making.
Harry puts his back into it for a good cause
Matt and my arrival coincided with the start of the work on the corn mill, and there wasn't much time to settle in before we were both armed with pick-axes and spades and set to work on digging the trenches - although Harry (Otillia's brother) was mortified at seeing the blisters on our hands, after all we were his guests and he thought we should rather have been relaxing.
Despite his protests day two was another long slog with the spades as the trenches began to take shape, and Matt and I felt a great deal of satisfaction at being part of the village's development. In Harry's words we "were making history" by starting the process of turning the village into what will eventually become a small town. To know we are giving these people a better standard of life, and a better future is hugely rewarding and I look forward to continuing our families efforts there.
Of course the time we spent there would not have been the same without the constant interaction with the village's children, all of whom struck their own chord in my heart. However, there were two boys, Chikunt and Miaso, who Matt and I became very close with, to the extent that the moment we stepped out of Otillia's house in the mornings they were there waiting for us everyday.
Two happy trench diggers
Our love for them started on the first day when we took a break from digging to turn and see the boys, both aged five, with hoes in their hands and beaming smiles on their faces mimmicking the work we were doing. It may sound funny but that action alone made me realise how strong the community bond is here, with everyone playing their own significant part, no matter how big or small, something that is severly lacking in many parts of the Western world.
Proof of the hardwork
The time we spent in the village would not have been possible without the love and hospitality of Amama (Harry and Otillia's Mum), who went above and beyond to ensure our stay was as enjoyable as possible. In her eighties she is an incredible women who not only has three orphans living with her but is always there for all of the village's children. She cooked several feasts for Matt and myself that were fit for royalty, and all of this on a coal fire. Like I say she is a remarkable women, and I thank her profusely for the love she showed us.
Chikunt
It was with a great deal of sadness that we left the village, although there is every chance I will be back their in October for the opening of the corn mill - and from what I hear it will be quite a party. Harry's words were "a few goats will lose their lives that day", and given my love for both goat meat and the village it would be a shame to miss such a historic occassion.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on August 11, 2009 from Blantyre, Malawi

Standing on top of Africa
Moshi, Tanzania
A lone walker (me) reflects on the path ahead
Ever since deciding to travel through Africa I knew I couldn't do it without conquering Mount Kilimanjaro, the world's highest free-standing mountain, and it soon became a major focus of my trip. Very quickly the goal was set, Matt and I would climb the mountain together. What follows is the true story of how two brothers conquered Africa's highest mountain.
The Build-Up
Once finished at the village in Malawi the focus soon turned to reaching Tanzania and making our way to Moshi - which turned out to be quite an epic journey that spanned four days - in order to hike Mt. Kilimanjaro. As we, painstakingly at times, edged closer to our destination both of us went through different phases of excitement, apprehension and trepidation of what lay ahead.
Finally, after close to forty-five hours on buses and trains, we caught our first sighting of the mountain and it left us both pretty much speechless. It wasn't until we arrived in Moshi that it really dawned on us just how sizeable our goal was going to be, but it was one we had become increasingly focused on and were determined to achieve at all costs.
The final arrangements were put into place the day before we departed, having met our guide Arnold and Christopher the 'Stomach Doctor' (our cook), to plan the trip and menu - when you are climbing a mountain it is important to have the food you want and need. After a traditional dinner at Arnold's house, something of an honour for Matt and myself to be invited to, it was back to the hotel to contemplate the journey ahead.
Day One - 12th August 2009
We both rise early to get a healthy breakfast inside of us, after all we will be needing as much energy as possible over the coming days. Nerves are jangling a little, reminds me off how I used to feel before playing rugby, but are combined with a great deal of anticipation. After meeting Arnold and the rest of his crew, which includes Christopher our cook and six porters, it is onto the daladala (local mini-bus) heading for our start point - Machame Gate.
Ready to go on the first day
On arriving at Machame Gate we are greeted by chaos, porters everywhere trying to get weighed (there are regulations that limit each porter's load to 20kg), as hikers make final preparations for the mountain. The quiet contemplation from the bus has now turned into raw energy and excitement as the start edges ever nearer, although it seams surreal that we are actually about to do this.
The waiting is over as at 12:16 we take our first tentative footsteps on the lower slopes of Africa's highest mountain, with the intention to walk for five hours 'pole-pole', which means slowly-slowly. Both of us find it hard to contain our excitement and often find ourselves going much faster than the intended pace as we walk through thick jungle.
With a short break after two hours it is onwards towards our camp and despite Arnold's best efforts Matt and I simply can't walk as slow as he would like us too - although he would soon learn that we were not your average hikers going up the mountain. Still full of life we arrive at camp not long after our porters who are busy setting up our tents and preparing hot tea and popcorn.
Matt and Arnold in the jungle
All in all it has been a successful first day on the mountain, and if anything the opening day's hike was pretty easy. But we know the hard work lies ahead, so not getting complacent just yet.
THE FACTS: 4hrs 10mins hiking time, 14km covered, camping at 3000m altitude.
Day Two - 13th August 2009
Awake after a terrible night's sleep - weird dreams and freezing conditions ensured I only slept for about three hours - leaving me questioning just how cold it will be camping at close to 5000m. Thankfully breakfast is ready soon after we rise, hot porridge, fruit, tea and eggs help kick start our bodies as the sun starts to warm our backs. Knowing it is another 'easy' day of hiking ahead spirits are high and the mood in camp is very relaxed.
Once again the two of us struggle to get to grips with this 'pole-pole' business, and instead steam into a two hour uphill slog forcing Arnold to run ahead and try and slow us to a suitable pace. His best efforts fail and he soon resigns himself to the fact we are both determined not to just climb the mountain, but to blaze a trail of smoke up it.
Lunch is taken just shy of 3700m and as of yet neither of us have any problems with the altitude, which is a good sign for the days that lie ahead. One thing I do notice, as we look back down on the clouds, is the wind chill is rather extreme up here when you are not moving around. The second section of the day is pretty straight forward, although we have to contend with thick cloud and dropping temperatures on our way to camp.
Another day taken care of, and as we arrive at our camp we both just start to notice a little shortage of oxygen in the air. Arnold informs us the oxygen saturation is down to about 85%, which gives me an idea, albeit a rather stupid one in hindsight. Whilst working in South Africa there was always a debate as to how altitude affected rugby teams who were used to playing at heights closer to sea level.
Seeing we were at an altitude no team would ever play at I thought I would test out just how much the lack of oxygen plays a part. The challenge was simple, a one minute press-up test, which done at sea level sees me clock a healthy 62 reps. The first twenty seconds were fine, and I didn't see what all the fuss was about, but from then on in it was pain all the way. Suddenly it felt like someone had sucked every last ounce of oxygen from my lungs as I struggled to breath quick enough to replace it. The result: 40 reps and a set of burning lungs that promised me if I tried anything as stupid as that again they would be looking for a new owner.
All that was left for the day was a short acclimatisation walk, just to take us up to 4000m to prepare us for day three, and once again we both reported back fit and with no visible effects of mountain sickness. I have been lucky to eat at some pretty special places in the world, but let me tell you nothing compares to the sight we had at dinner on the second night - I will allow the picture to do it justice.
Possibly the best view from dinner ever
THE FACTS: 4hrs 22mins hiking time, 10km covered, camping at 3820m altitude.
Day Three - 14th August 2009
Another terrible night's sleep leaves me feeling pretty groggy in the morning as I soon realise the nights will be my least favourite part of this challenge. Matt seems to have little problems with the cold at night, which annoys me slightly as would do anything for a decent sleep. A hot breakfast with hot chocolate helps rouse my body for the day ahead, which is meant to be more challenging than the first two.
Brothers in Arms
An hour in and we stop for a quick break. Feeling strong at 4071m and relishing the challenge of overcoming not just the mountain, but other groups of hikers as mine and Matt's competitive edges come to the fore. Sensing we are having little problems with the hike Arnold is happy to up the tempo and help us in our mission to overtake everyone ahead of us.
Before we break for lunch Arnold has a little treat for us to climb, the Lava Tower, which is at 4600m and marks the highest either of us has ever been. It also nearly marked the end of my own hike, but that's a story for another day, as Matt decided it would be a good idea to free-climb it. At the top we were both pumped up, viewing the lack of oxygen as more of a challenge for us to overcome than a hindrance to our progress.
Arnold informs us the last leg of the day, at our current pace, will take around an hour an a half - which to two highly energised and motivated boys is like a red rag to a bull. We last see Arnold ten minutes before we enter camp, the two of us sprinting the last five hundred meters to arrive in under an hour, much to the amazement of every other hiker and most of the porters. It was at this point our reputation, among hikers and porters alike, as being totally crazy was cemented.
Conquering Kilimanjaro in more ways than one
With the camp surrounded by sheer rock cliffs on three sides the sun is of little help to keep us warm and the temperatures soon plummet, leaving us both frantically searching for extra layers. A brief chat with home lifts spirits sapped by the cold and thoughts of sleeping in temperatures that will drop below zero as soon as the night settles in.
As soon as dinner is finished we all return to our respective tents, knowing that the next two days will see us make or break the mountain. Pretty proud Arnold sees us as stronger than most of his clients, and that other porters and guides have commented on our efforts.
THE FACTS: 5hrs 11mins hiking time, 12km covered, camping at 3900m altitude.
Day Four - 15th August 2009
Camping with a view
With each day that passes I find sleep harder and harder to come by, waking eight times last night hoping it was finally time to get up and out of my tent. The cold is taking it's toll right now and leaves me needing a little extra time to get going in the morning - you know it's really cold when there is frost on the inside of your tent. Have lost all feeling in my feet this morning and can't wait to start hiking just to get warm.
My body feels cold and reluctant to get going, but my mind is alive and focused on the day ahead. This is the day that finally takes us into sight of the summit we are aiming for, takes us to base camp from where we will make our attempt at conquering Mt. Kilimanjaro. Those thoughts are motivating me to the extent where I can't keep still, the energy is loaded and my body is ready to go now.
The road ahead leads to base camp
The hike doesn't start so well, as I fall through ice into cold mud up to my knees. So much for getting some feeling back into my feet. That little accident aside we are up to our usual tricks of trying to catch everyone, and soon enough we are out front on our own - not that this is a race...yeah right! Now our goal is to put as much time between ourselves and everyone behind us - thanks for the competitive nature you instilled in us Mum!
With every step we take Matt and I are loving this more and more, and have now been officially dubbed as 'Mountain Soldiers' by a porter we have kept pace with for some time. For those who haven't had the pleasure of hiking on the mountain let me tell you to keep up with a porter is no mean feat, as despite having 20kg on their heads they take great pride in practically running up the mountain.
Arnold changes the route slightly, incorporating some harder sections of climbing, but it's nothing Matt and I can't handle as we make great time to the lunch camp. Matt, Arnold and myself take great pleasure in ticking off other groups as they arrive at the camp, registering each and everyone with their team name, time and how far behind us they were.
A leisurely lunch sees us leave for base camp in high spirits, and soon enough we have overtaken the early starters, and with each group we pass our pace goes up a notch as once again we are practically running into base camp - although not quite sprinting as now the lack of oxygen in the air is really becoming apparent. It takes us less than ninety minutes to cover a section that takes most over two hours - our only concern is that we haven't over exerted ourselves too early. Only time will provide that answer now.
The Kissing Stone - it has to be done!
Before we can relax and prepare mentally for what will be the moment of truth Arnold takes us on another short acclimatisation walk. We use the track we will start out on for the summit, but only venture a short way along it to an altitude of 4800m, which is enough to show us there will be nothing easy about the last leg of this journey. We sit in silence, staring at the summit, knowing that there is one final push for ultimate glory, one last effort between us and standing on top of Africa.
The next two hours see all the final preparations put in place, bags packed, clothes laid out and finally a healthy dinner to get the energy levels up. After that it is early to bed, minds firmly set on the morning and the prospect of reaching the summit. The wait is all but over now, this is what the last four days have been for, now the hard work really begins. I drift off into a state of semi-sleep with a feeling in my stomach I have seldom had since finishing playing rugby.
THE FACTS: 5hrs 50mins, 10km covered, camping at 4600m altitude
Day Five - 16th August 2009
All set to take on the summit
00:38 Johnny gives me a knock to let me know it's time to get up. I have slept in all but two layers of what I will climb in and am ready to go in a matter of minutes. Stomach is turning inside out, not hungry at all, this is the feeling I used to love when playing rugby as it always came before the big event.
00:49 I force two bowls of hot porridge down knowing I will be grateful for the energy later. Matt and I sit in my tent drinking hot tea and eating a few biscuits, neither saying much but knowing what the other is thinking. Most other groups have gone, Arnold is holding us back a few hours as, in his words, our 'pace is crazy'.
01:16 Out of the tent and make two quick video diaries for our documentary before checking Arnold is ready for the hike - what will be his 263rd time at the summit if all goes to plan.
01:19 Matt and I both look up the mountain, the summit lies a further 1400m up from where we are, and see several lines of lights slowly making their way up the slope step by step. We will officially be the last group out of the gate, but given the nature of us both will look to catch as many other groups as possible.
01:28 Time for us to do a final check to ensure we have everything we will need to help us reach the top. Bags loaded with snacks, water and a few other bits and pieces we are taking. Everything is packed, checked and ready to go.
01:37 Arnold calls our summit team, himself, Johnny, Matt and myself, in to say a silent prayer. Emotions running pretty high right now, difficult to describe the exact feeling but it is one somewhere between sheer determination that I will do this and a slight fear of what lies ahead in the dark.
01:39 We take the first of many footsteps that will hopefully see us reach the summit for sunrise. What to say other than at the moment I am so fired up and focused on this, and apart from cold toes am feeling great.
02:30 Almost an hour in and we are making good ground, already passed one group and on the way to making it two. The air is getting thin, but keeping a steady pace so not feeling it too much right now.
03:15 Still feeling strong, although trying not to look up too much as it just reminds you how far is yet to go. Using other groups to track down is helping us keep our pace, and we don't even need to tell Arnold our intentions. For him 'Mzungu hunting' is becoming something of a hobby.
Here comes the sun....
03:49 The cold is setting in now, more so than ever before on this trip. My toes and fingers have lost all feeling, my camel pack pipe has frozen and the wind is chilling me from the core out. Arnold warned us it would get cold, but I never thought it would be this bad. Turning my mind off the task at hand and just running on auto-pilot.
04:03 Matt is really feeling the cold and we have to stop to get warm tea and food inside so we can keep going. Am worried Matt has left it too late to eat, guess we will have to wait and see. One thing is for certain I'm not standing on the top of Africa without him.
04:21 Another stop as the cold and low energy levels hit Matt again. Thoughts of not reaching the top rattle around my mind, but not letting them settle. We are going to do this, no matter what.
04:57 Things are better now, we have braved the worst of the cold and accepted it will be like this until sunrise. Matt's energy levels back up and it's one step at a time as the crater rim looms on the horizon.
Our summit team, myself, Johnny, Arnold and Matt
05:24 So close to the crater rim now, from where it is, in relation to what we have just done, pretty easy going according to Arnold. My mind is taking me where my body doesn't really want to go at the moment, with the only thoughts being those of what it will feel like to stand on top of this beast.
05:49 Finally we have got to the crater rim. Now it's my turn to suffer from a lack of energy, but being so close to the top I just keep going. Arnold tells me to look left, and when I do I see a huge glacier just meters away from me. That's the inspiration I need to finish this.
06:01 The sun is starting to tinge the horizon so many wonderful shades of red and orange. Never have I seen a sunrise like this before. It's cold but I have to take photos, which means off with the gloves. Seemed like a good idea until I tired to put them back on, hands freezing again now.
Brother in Arms
06:12 More pictures as the scenary just keeps getting better and better, the crater in particular. The summit is so close that we know we have all but made it. Nothing can stop us now, so starting to enjoy the moment a bit more. Suddenly it's not so cold, not so painful.
06:24 The first sighting of the summit and it's sign to welcome you. So close to achieving one of my biggest goals to date, and Matt is right here with me. Together we have pulled through this.
06:36 We have done it. Stood on top of Africa, tears running down my face as all the emotions of the last five hours hit home. Give Matt a huge hug as we both realise we have achieved our goal, we have conquered Mt. Kilimanjaro together. Lost for words, this is simply too much to take on board.
06:49 A lot of picture taking has been done, as we try and come to terms with what we have just done. Arnold calls us all in for a prayer again, and then I take a moment to say my own prayer to my Gran. She was there with us the entire way up, and somehow I feel a connection to her here.
06:58 Matt and I are buzzing. Our bodies are flooded with emotion and excitement. We came through everything and reached the top. Now for the journey back down, and at some stage I think it will truly hit home what we have just done.
THE FACTS: 13hrs 12mins hiking time, 41km covered, 5895m altitude - that's the higest you can go in Africa!!
The journey off the mountain was long, 29km from the summit to the exit gate, and is of little consequence to what we achieved. That is other than we did a seven day trip inside five days - true Mountain Soldiers to the last. Another two blogs will follow this, looking at the mental side of climbing the mountain, as well as Matt's take on events. But for now, as we head off to Zanzibar to relax, that's all.
The feet of a man who conquered Kilimanjaro
written by  MarcusInAfrica on August 20, 2009 from Moshi, Tanzania

Mind Over Matter
Moshi, Tanzania
Ready for the challenge ahead
When I was younger my Gran lent me a book entitled 'Mind Over Matter', one man's story of his expedition to the South Pole. At the time I thought I understood the full meaning of the book, however, it is only now having conquered Mount Kilimanjaro that I really know the true meaning of mind over matter.
The top of Africa is up there somewhere
It's approaching four o'clock in the morning, I am two hours into my summit attempt, ahead is six kilometres of hard hiking, the temperature is -4, the wind chill factor makes it seem like I am walking around in an industrial freezer, and my body is telling me to seek warmth and escape this insanity. My mind, on the other hand, is completely focused on achieving my goal, to stand on top of Africa. Do I listen to my body or my mind?
Enjoying the view after the pain
The answer is simple, the execution of the answer is not so without a true belief that I can do this. Thankfully, through years of exposure to such positive minded parents, I am able to block out what my body is telling me and go with my mind. With a clear image in my head of me standing at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro I press forward, every step edging me closer to knowing just how it feels to realising my goal.
Sunrise on top of Africa
Suddenly the temperature drops yet further, all feeling in my feet and hands is gone, my breath is freezing my balaclava, my body is slowly shutting down. This is where I finally grasped the true meaning of mind over matter, for it was only mental power that took me through the early hours of that bitter Sunday morning. When you truly believe you can achieve something, then, and only then, can you tune out to what your body is saying and let your mental belief carry you home.
Little White Fluffy Clouds
Do I have the will? That is the question going through my mind, and it's now that I realise I do have the will. There is a burning desire to achieve that fires my will, nothing will stop me from doing this. It may sound odd to some, but it is only when faced with extreme adversity, such as was in front of me on the mountain, that the full power of the mind can be realised.
The Crater a.k.a The Danger Zone
As I neared the summit, still in temperatures more suited to the Antarctic than Africa, my body began to come back to life having been ruled by my mind for the best two hours part of two hours. I had endured and survived conditions I would never normally do so thanks to my mind's ability to control my body, to push it where it didn't think was possible to go. I had achieved my dream, I had conquered Mt Kilimanjaro thanks to an undying belief that anything was possible.
Someone's happy to be at the top
The mind is the most powerful tool available to all of us, yet many don't utilise it to its full potential. Having done just that myself, and knowing how far mental belief will take me I will never again underestimate the ability to put my mind over matter. Doing so makes anything achievable, you just have to have that ultimate belief in what you are striving to succeed.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on August 23, 2009 from Moshi, Tanzania

Malawi Here We Come...Again
And so the journey begins
As they say every cloud has a silver lining, and despite Matt heading back home Alena had returned back to Africa, much to my delight, and thus we set off from Dar es Salaam headed back to Malawi. Having done this journey before I thought I knew what to expect, but nothing could have prepared me for just how bad it was.
Welcome to a little bit of camping paradise
When you book a seat with a reputable bus company, running from one major city to another, you, hardly surprisingly, expect to get just that - the first rule of travelling in Africa, always expect the unexpected (which you would have thought I would have learnt by now). You can imagine the look of horror on our faces then when, at 4am, we arrived at the bus depot to find a glorified mini-bus waiting for us.
The lake's finest oarsman...or so I'm told
Fourteen long, arduous hours later and we had, finally, arrived at the border crossing where the day went from bad to worse. Rather than taking us all the way to Mzuzu in Malawi we were told, approaching 9.30pm, that this was the end of the line for the day and that a different bus would take us into Malawi in the morning. Smelling a rat we pressed the issue a little, although the arrival of several police officers, including a rather senior official, forced us to accept the situation.
One way on, and one way off
It turned out we were on a bus full of illegal immigrants, and the police had arrived to collect their bribes before taking them over the border under the cover of darkness - for anyone who thought otherwise, corruption is rife in Africa and this such example is just the tip of the iceberg. So that was that, we would have to sleep the night at the border and make alternative travel arrangements in the morning, or risk disturbing the police accepting bribes - rule two in Africa, never interfere with officials and their bribes (that I have learnt, the hard way too).
Welcome to first class on the Llala
Once back in Nkhata Bay the only thing on our minds was a few days relaxing before taking the ferry over to the islands. I must say, despite all its faults the Llala has been, to date, my favourite means of transport on my travels. From climbing aboard when the lower decks are too busy to fight your way through, to the cheapest (edible) food in Malawi, to sleeping under the stars it has spades of character and is an experience to behold.
A bed fit for a king
The highlight of our time on the islands was, without a doubt, the visit to the cathedral on Likomo (although the goat slaughter pushed it all the way, but that's due to the caveman in me). What amazed me was that it is southern Africa's largest cathedral, and yet it is out on this remote island where few get to appreciate its splendour. Sadly we were not there for a service, as with three choirs and a packed congregation it is said to be quite a spectacle.
A spot of fishing out on the lake
In keeping with the African spirit of transport the ferry, reported to have problems with its steering, had been cancelled and thus we were left in a slight predicament. The options were simple, stay on the islands for another week, or find an alternative boat back to mainland. The answer was even simpler, find another boat as staying on the islands may have resulted in insanity - as beautiful as the islands are they are not exactly the heart of adventure and activity in Malawi.
The Llala offloading passengers
And so began the worst journey of my life, one where at least twice I thought I was doomed to become fish food. Our chosen boat, which was our only option, should have carried about twenty passengers but sensing the chance to make some easy money the skipper decided forty-one would be a much better number. All I can say is thank heavens Chizumulu lay in between Likomo, our start point, and mainland, as if not I honestly think the boat would have sunk.
Alena with her new friends at Chizumulu
The swell was such that no sooner had we set off than the boat was swaying from side to side, water coming in occasionally and more than a few shouts and prayers to God and Jesus. When the locals, who are used to the lake, start worrying you know things are bad. Thankfully a two hour stop at Chizumulu allowed the swell to calm somewhat and we were able to continue, for close to six hours, chugging back to Nkhata Bay, which is where this chapter ends. So be sure to join me for the next chapter of adventure from Africa as Alena and myself indulge in some diving and fishing before heading back towards Tanzania.
Inside the Cathedral of St Peter
Welcome to Likoma
written by  MarcusInAfrica on October 7, 2009 from Nkhata Bay, Malawi

The Adventure Continues
Chitimba, Malawi
You have to love the wet-suit look....
As I mentioned in a previous blog one of the great attractions of Lake Malawi is its diving, and ever since I learnt to dive there I wanted to share the experience with Alena. One refresher course for her later and that dream became reality as we embarked on our first dive together - although the main dive was still to come.
Alena finds her water wings again
Night diving in the lake is, if you think like Alena and myself, one of the best games you can play. For the Dolphin fish come out to eat at night, and are more than grateful for the light of diver's torches to help them hunt - which equates to a simple game, see who can get the most Cichlids eaten in their torch beam. Rather than competing against each other we combined forces and had quite a good haul of four killed in brutal fashion - what better way to enjoy a dive than to play God as you do so.
The view from the bed in the tree
With our diving at an end it was time to make our way north to Tanzania, but not before a stop off at a little known place called Ndokera's - one of the only backpackers owned and run by locals, which made for quite an interesting stay. The star attraction of the place, other than being set on the shores of the lake, is the bed in the tree, which having been told about we simply had to sleep in.
Welcome to the bed in the tree
I have slept in numerous tree houses, but never before just a bed wedged high up a tree with a make-shift ladder to access it. All I can say is if you are ever in Malawi you must make the effort to head there and spend a night in the tree - waking up to sunrise over the lake from the comfort of your bed, completely submerged in nature, is quite an experience.
The purpose of our stay, other than to sleep in a tree, was to head up to the Manchewe Falls at Livingstonia - which is not as easy as it sounds. For starters the only road that goes in that direction is a dirt track, at the best of times, that winds up the escarpment in a similar fashion to the road at Alpe d'Huez. Not only that but no public transport ventures that way, and thus those wanting to do so must rely on hitch-hiking or paying an extortionate amount for a lift with the few people who have private cars in the area.
Breakfast is served fresh and greasy
So, after an early morning breakfast of freshly cooked chips (try finding anything else in Chitimba), we stuck our thumbs out and hoped for the best. Forty-five minutes later, which we were told is a pretty short wait for a ride, we were on our way towards Livingstonia, although had to share the back of the truck with a rather smelly tray of dried fish - but then beggars can't be choosers.
Looking out over the falls
And the journey was worth every second, as the falls really are quite a sight, made all the better for the fact you can take a walk down behind them and sit in a small cave behind the torrents of water cascading down. It seemed the travel Gods were with us as no sooner did we make it back to the road than a car was coming past and we managed to get a lift back down the escarpment.
Cooling down behind the waterfall
From there the journey took us first to the Tanzanian border, and then to a remote little village in the middle of nowhere, to hike up to the Ngosi Crater Lake, thanks to a spot of hitch-hiking. Unfortunately there are no pictures to the next section of the story, as we (read Alena) forgot the camera in the truck we got a lift with, although we thankfully got it back a few days later.
Anyway, the stay in the village was one of the most rewarding night's camping I have had in a long time. With no idea where we would pitch the tent a local villager, Nathaniel, came to our rescue and let us camp next to his house. It was only when the tent was up did we realise we were two metres from his pig sty, and that what seemed like the entire population of the village had come to see what these crazy Mzungus were doing sleeping in a portable house (tent to you and I).
I can't say enough for Nathaniel and his family, who made our stay a wonderful experience, and this has inspired me to start doing a bit more wild camping as I head into areas where accommodation becomes a little more limited. But before then there is a return trip to Zanzibar to come...where things are bound to get a little spicy.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on October 8, 2009 from Chitimba, Malawi

Feeling The Heat in Zanzibar
Stone Town, Tanzania
Suits you Sir!
You may or may not know this, but Zanzibar is famous for its spices, with multiple spice farms occupying vast sections of the interior of the island. Being keen cooks Alena and I signed up for a spice tour and set off for one of the government owned farms - the farms are split between private and government ownership, but all spices have to be exported through the government.
Nutmeg
Despite having used many of the spices we saw on the tour I must admit there were several I was in the dark on as to how and where they were grown. For example cinnamon sticks are simply small branches from the cinnamon tree that have been dried out ready for cooking, and the vanilla vine is actual a parasite that grows on other trees and plants but produces the most amazing smelling black pods.
Vanilla
The tour itself was both interesting and great fun, with an assortment of locals walking with you making all sorts of accessories from the different leaves found on the plants. By the end of it I had an organic tie, bracelet glasses and lipstick, whilst Alena had a shopping basket, glasses, bracelet, ring and frog necklace. As to what we looked like with all these new acquirements I will let the pictures do us justice, or should that be injustice in my case!
Fresh cocoa
Following a delightful home-cooked meal, using the spices of the season, it was back to Stone Town where things got a little hot for me. I realise I have done some weird and interesting, even slightly stupid, things on my travels to date, but in hindsight this was the most stupid thing I have done.
Alena goes all green
The two most expensive spices to buy in Zanzibar are vanilla and saffron, the latter which Alena wanted to take back for her Mum. With the haggling not really getting us a good price I jokingly offered to eat ten of the hottest chillies the spice merchant had in return for the biggest bag of saffron he had. If I am being honest I was not expecting him to accept my wager, which is why I had made it in the first.
Alas before I knew it he was counting out the chillies with a huge smile on his face - he may not have been getting any money but he would have plenty of laughter and a story to tell for days to come. And so, with a small crowd of fellow spice merchants gathered around, I was handed the chillies and suddenly realised there was no option but to do this. Thoughts of an episode of the Simpsons came to mind where Homer drinks candle wax before eating chillies to line his stomach - sadly that was not an option for me.
Ten of Zanzibar's finest chillies, and all for me!
There's no turning back now
Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have done this
Am sure my Mum always told me to eat with my mouth closed
Feel the pain, love the pain!
Keycha Mzungu and his prize
And so in the chillies went, and I slowly began to chew them. At first I felt nothing, no heat, no pain, just the chillies crunching. A good tip for anyone stupid enough to repeat my act, do not gloat by sticking your tongue out with the chewed up chillies on claiming they are not hot. No sooner had I done this than the heat kicked in, not gradually but instantly. My mouth went from cold to raging hot in a split second leaving me with only one option - swallow and get water fast.
Down they went, out came my tongue to prove as much, and in went the water as Alena happily collected the prize on my behalf. The water did little but to increase the intensity of the heat and it was all I could do to keep moving to try and take my mind off the pain - all the while Alena and the spice merchants were finding the whole episode quite entertaining. Next came the tears, which I had no control over, and at this stage two litres of water had gone down my throat.
My saving grace was bananas, which slowly but surely reduced the heat, allowing me to return my mouth to normal with another bottle of water. Aside from a bag of saffron and major pain in my mouth, not to mention stomach on the following day, my act had earned me the title of 'Keycha Mzungu', which literally translates as 'Crazy White Man'. And so my love for spicy food has faded somewhat of late, and the mere thought of eating those chillies is enough to turn my stomach.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on October 9, 2009 from Stone Town, Tanzania

A Step Back in Time
Lamu, Kenya
The ride over to Lamu
In today's materialistic and technologically driven world it is difficult to imagine a society where life is not concerned with such frivolous matters, and is a throw back to a time all but lost. But nowhere in the world have I found such an uncomplicated, yet culturally rich place as Lamu - the small world heritage island just off the coast of Kenya that is, for those after the unpretentious life, a little corner of paradise.
I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Walking down the quaint streets, there are only two of them, one can't hear the rumble of engines or honking of horns but rather the clip-clop of hooves - that's because here there are no vehicles, just donkeys and the odd bicycle. It takes a little getting used to at first, especially having come from the chaotic Mombasa where the streets are a jam of assorted vehicles, but once adjusted it is impossible not to love Lamu and it's way of life.
Lamu town square - where it all happens
It has spades of character, and around every corner lies a new discovery - be it a one of the countless yet equally intriguing Swahili buildings, a gathering of locals engrossed in a political debate, or just a couple of donkeys meandering along - it's impossible not to be drawn in to the uniqueness way of life in Lamu. Maybe it's my desire to live in a more simplistic world, or just the magic of Lamu itself, but either way it makes it into my top three destinations in Africa thus far.
Give us a kiss sexy!
When I set off on this trip it was to experience as many different cultures as possible, no matter what they entailed. So, having ridden cows, horses and elephants in my time, I thought it only right I should take a donkey for a jaunt around the streets, which was an interesting experience to say the least. Aside from being the most uncomfortable animal I have ever ridden it provided the locals with plenty of entertainment. Apparently, according to several locals, long hair, a beard and the riding of a donkey gives one a liking to a certain Biblical character.
The second coming of the chosen one.....or not!
Sadly I was unable to turn water into wine, or feed the masses with just a few loafs and some fish and was thus cast aside as a scruffy traveller in need of a hair-cut. For those who are in agreement let me just say if you saw the hair dressers here you would also be keen to avoid having a trim, unless you are a fan of the not so appealing army cut that is.
Even donkeys need love
Donkey Cam
Rather than wax lyrical about this amazing place I will leave it to the more adventerous among you to go and disocver its delights for yourself.
Presenting the Lamu ambulance
written by  MarcusInAfrica on November 5, 2009 from Lamu, Kenya

A Whistle Stop Tour in Kenya
Naivasha, Kenya
On the shores of Lake Naivasha
With time ticking by in Kenya it was nearly time to make the long arduous trek to the Ethiopian border, but first I set off on a whistle stop tour of some of the countries lesser known attractions - including Lake Naivasha, Hell's Gate National Park, Lake Elementeita and Nanyuki to witness the Corrolis effect first-hand.
What are you looking at?
The first stop saw me set up camp on the shores of Lake Naivasha, where hippos roam free and flamingos shade the water a beautiful pink. It was from here that I made my mission into Hell's Gate National Park, which is famous for being the only park in Kenya where one can walk and cycle among the animals - thankfully lions and cheetahs have not been spotted here for some time.
Black with white stripes, or white with black stripes
That said I was more than a little worried when, having cycled into the park twenty minutes earlier, two young buffalos decided to stare me down before turning and ambling off. After that little episode the rest of the day was truly magical. Being on bike and foot gives the feeling of actually being among the animals, rather than just observing them, and riding among a family of giraffe will live long in my memory.
Wading down the gorge
Up close with the senior giraffe
So 56km of cycling, 10km of hiking, 14 giraffes, two buffalo, countless zebra, impala, warthog and baboons, one sandstone gorge and a Masi village later I had done Hell's Gate National Park. I had just enough energy to cycle back to camp before collapsing in a heap with a well deserved beer by my campfire, thoroughly exhausted but more than content with my efforts.
Hell's Gate done
The end of another day in Africa
From there it was on to Lake Elementeita, one of the Rift Valley's lesser visited lakes, to see more flamingos than one would care to shake a stick at. Waking up to a lake tinged with pink is not the worst start to a day one could have, made even better for the free breakfast I received courtesy of Josephat the chef. That was the fuel I needed for a busy day, which saw me rack up over 350km on mini-buses, including the highest town in Kenya, Nyharuru - home to Thompson's Falls and the Kikuyu tribe.
Camping in solitutde
There was barely time to take it all in before jumping on the last mini-bus to Nanyuki where the River Camel Camp awaited me - and what a magnificent place it was. Run by an Chris, an old Welshman from Usk (all of ten miles from Mum and Dad's house), who has lived in Africa for 47 years it was one of the best places I have stayed thus far - not least because I got to eat camel, which was delicious, and drink camel's milk, which was not so delicious.
One hump or two...sadly for me, one with lots of pain
It was here that I was able to add camel to the list of animals I have ridden, which also includes cows, donkeys, elephants and horses, and it's safe to say it was the most uncomfortable animal I have ever ridden - let's just say it's better to be female when it comes to riding a camel. Keeping with the flavour of the week, packing in as much as possible, it was off to the equator.
Traditional Kikuyu tribe members
It is widely known that water drains in a different direction in the Northern and Southern hemispheres - anti-clockwise and clockwise- but until you see it in action it is difficult to believe. The theory behind it is known as the Corrolis effect - and you only have to move ten metres either side of the equator to see the change in direction as the water drains. Strangest of all is that on the equator itself the water doesn't flow in any direction, rather it drains in a straight line. Strange but true.
Heading into the Northern hemisphere
With my Ethiopian visa waiting for me back in Nairobi it was time to bring my week to an end and turn my attention to the long, bandit-ridden, road ahead. I can't say that the prospect of 600km of dirt track, with the very real danger of bandits, is the most appealing but if I am to stick to my goal of no airplanes that is the challenge I must overcome.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on November 6, 2009 from Naivasha, Kenya

The Bandit Run
Moyale, Kenya
What's that coming over the hill...is it a Kenyan, is it a Kenyaaaaaan
When you know the town you are heading to has had its problems with bandits the last thing you want to hear upon arrival is that they have struck in the past few hours. Worse still that angry residents have taken to the streets in protests leading to full scale riots culminating in the local marketplace being set on fire.
Unfortunately for me that is exactly what greeted me upon arrival in Isiolo, leaving me questioning the next stage of my journey north. My anxiety and obvious concern was not helped when the news came on to reveal the full extent of the massacre - six dead including two police officers. Worse still was the headline adorning the front page of the paper the following morning - 'Residents Flee as Bandits Kill Six in Isiolo'.
Latif himself
I was left with two options; return to Nairobi and take a flight to Addis Ababa (clearly the most sensible option), or take a private truck, along with fifteen other people, and hope for the best. Now I have never been the most sensible person, but I must admit this situation did see my degree of sensibility increase, although not enough to break the rules of my trip.
And thus, along with my Spanish travel companion Roberto, we took the decision to head north to Ethiopia by land and risk a bandit attack in our quest to reach the border - a mere 600km away. I should probably add that the safest time to travel is instantly after an incident like this, as security is dramatically increased, but be that as it may there was still a chance we could fall victim of an attack.
Latif's truck that saved us from the bandits
Knowing disaster could strike doesn't allow for the most peaceful night's sleep, in fact it rendered sleep almost impossible due to worry, and so the following morning I was more than grateful of several strong coffees before we prepared for the off. The presence of solders on the streets eased my concerns somewhat, but also served as a reminder that this was not exactly the area you would want to remain in for long.
As we rolled onto the dusty track that would eventually take us to Ethiopia my heart was racing, my only thoughts seemed to centre around being ambushed by bandits and left for dead in the middle of the desert. An hour in and Latif brought the vehicle to a halt, and, with a wry grin on his face, informed us that no matter what for the next hour there would be no stopping. We were now in bandit territory.
A member of the Samburu tribe
My nerves, already on edge, were eating away at my insides, and once again I was convinced that this would only end in disaster. Every time we slowed down even slightly I was paranoid bandits had stepped into the road and were forcing us to stop, where as it was usually to just avoid a nasty pothole. The minutes seemed to be going by at an alarmingly slow rate, and then it happened.
Looking down the dry river bed as we crossed it, four bandits, all armed with AK47s, were casually strolling along. In my head I played out what would happen next; the bandits had seen us, taken aim and killed our driver, taking the rest of us hostage, or worse yet just killing us all before fleeing with the truck and our bags. As this thought passed I suddenly realised we were past the river and still racing along the bumpy road, nobody was dead, least of all myself, and the danger had passed.
The long road to Ethiopia
Once through the bandit zone we pulled over, and immediately Latif jumped out and approached me with a big grin on his face, asking if I had seen the bandits. I let him know I had, but didn't let on to how worried I had been that we were all doomed. From there the remainder of the journey was as pleasurable as 500km of dirt track in the sweltering African heat can be.
Finally in Moyale, the less than charming town that straddles the Kenya-Ethiopia border, my body was greatly relieved to be out of the truck and the constant rattle of driving. More than that my mind could rest easy, other than the prospect of sharing my room with an army of cockroaches and another 600km on the road in the morning. Still I had survived the notorious bandit run and was ready to take on Ethiopia.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 1, 2009 from Moyale, Kenya

One Man and his Horse
Dodola, Ethiopia
One way into the mountains
With Ethiopia offering a seemingly endless list of star attractions and activities I was keen to make the most of my time here, and get the most out of a country I had only heard positive things about. So, with that in mind, I wasted little time in heading to the Bale Mountains where a four day horse trek lay in store.
Getting to know my horse a little better
I wasn't sure what to expect, given that my last foray into the mountains had been up Mount Kilimanjaro, and was blown away by the natural beauty and way of life found in the mountains. Further to that it was something of a luxury to have the horse do all the leg work whilst I sat back and submerged myself in the surroundings - which would not have been out of place in Europe. Although my legs got to relax my bum was not so fortunate - lets just say the saddle was not exactly going to win any prizes for comfort over the four day trek.
Myself and Roberto ready for a long ride
The rolling hills we traversed on the first day reminded me of childhood hikes in the Peak District, and you frequently had to remind yourself this was Africa such was the Britishness of the scenerary. In the distance faint singing could be heard, and as we neared our camp for the first night the melodic singing grew louder and provided a perfect backdrop to a glorious picture.
As we ventured further into the mountains I began to imagine this is what it must have been like to be in a fairytale. The rolling green hills meshing their various fields of wheat, barely and grass together in a patchwork quilt as cactus hedged paths picked their way towards the foot of the more serious mountains. And all this as the sun, a rich toffee colour, bathed the hills in the most magnificent light to the accompaniment of young girls singing to their animals.
One man and his book
Over the past eight months I have experienced a wide range of emotions and feelings, each individually evoked by a different and unique part of Africa, yet never before had I felt such a oneness with the environment I was in. As my noble steed soldered on - looking at the size of the locals I am sure my horse had never had to carry someone of my size before - I allowed myself to soak in the atmosphere.
Me and Ritar with our kita
Each night accommodation was in the shape of local huts, run by local mountain people themselves, and proved to be highly rewarding. On the last night I found myself learning to make local bread, known as Kita, with Ritar and her children, and in doing so became the first ever 'forangi' (local term for white person) to cook in her house - an honour I was quite proud of.
Marcus Aurelius - leader of the Ethiopian armies!
As pleasurable as it was having the horse do all the work by the fourth day I was reduced to walking, such was the soreness of bouncing in the saddle constantly. The added bonus of this was it gave my horse enough time to recover for one last hurrah before we finished. As the fields opened up before us it was time for the horses to stretch their legs and show us what they could really do - I have never ridden a horse flat-out before and must say it was an exhilarating experience.
Football on top of a mountain
Thankful for a magical four days in the mountains, and to be out of the saddle for good, I was ready to head north to Addis Ababa and prepare to delve further into the fabric of this country and find out what really makes it tick.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 2, 2009 from Dodola, Ethiopia

Hyenas, Religion and a Castle
Gonder, Ethiopia
Too close for comfort
There is, as far as I am aware, no other place in the world other than Ethiopia where you can feed a hyena from your mouth, sail to twelfth century monasteries and then take a trip back to medieval times. This country really is amazing, and the best, so I am told, is yet to come.
The hyena, the animal everyone loves to hate, the scruffy scavenger that has an air of evil to it that would se it welcome at the gates of hell day or night. Why then would anybody want to have one within six inches of your face eating the raw meat that hangs on a stick in your mouth? I would like to be able to answer that question for you, but I can't.
The Mighty St.George
All I can say is I think we all have a desire to get as close to nature as possible, and the added thrill of being so close to an animal that has the most powerful bite of the cat family in Africa is too much to turn down. And that is, in a nutshell, how one night in Harar I found myself face-to-face with a foul-breathed wild hyena. I think it's safe to say that, without getting attacked, I will never come closer to a wild animal for as long as I live.
Religion in pictures
Something I am coming to learn is that Ethiopia is a country of contrasts, and my next two destinations, Lake Tana and Gonder, were further evidence of this. At first glance Lake Tana is just another beautiful Rift Valley lake, but take a closer look and you will find a different world, a world of ancient monasteries dating as far back as the 14th-century.
Each monastery has its own unique history, with one said to have housed the Ark of the Covenant for over 800 years - but I will let you make your own conclusions on that front. More than anything it is the paintings that make the monasteries what they are, each telling different passages of the bible through pictures - this was done so that even the illiterate could devote themselves to religion.
Whilst most were pretty self-explanatory a few of the paintings were open to interpretation, for example a man fellating a donkey could be taken in entirely the wrong way if the priest didn't explain it was symbolic of taking the milk of an ass. In all of the paintings though the believers would always be depicted with a full face and both eyes showing, yet non-believers only had one eye and half of their face showing.
Welcome to my new home!
Feeling as if one more monastery would send me over the edge, five was more than enough, it was off to Gonder and a day of pure fantasy. It may be the little boy in me, or just the strange desire to have been a medieval king, but exploring the castles in Gonder was fascinating. The entire time I was picturing what it would have been like to have lived in such a grand place, lord of the land in a time where you were everything or nothing.
The best place for me I think
When it was Emperor Fasiladas' home (1632-67) it was a castle of contrasts, of unimaginable brutality, and yet at the same time equally unimaginable wealth. And now in present day standing in the banquet hall, a room that I was told would have seated over two hundred people for a grand feast, I closed my eyes and envisioned a party of medieval gentry swilling ale from big tankards as they ripped chunks of meat from various bones.
A castle fit for a king
Sadly there was no such feast for me, so it was off for a coffee ceremony whilst I planned the next stage of my trip - the Danakil Depression, a place I had been told was unlike anywhere else on our planet.
Leach the Great Archer
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 2, 2009 from Gonder, Ethiopia

Welcome to the Danakil Depression
Dalol, Ethiopia
Imagine, if you can, a place where planet earth as we know it morphs into a landscape that would not be out of place on Mars of Saturn. Where the temperatures soar over 40degrees on a daily basis, where only the boldest of travellers dare go. A place where one of the world's most hostile races of people exists, as that is all one can do here, just exist, in the middle of it all.
Can anybody spot the road?
To give you an idea of Afari people's hostility until roughly forty years ago they would greet every male visitor to their region by cutting their testicles off. Before we go any further allow me to reassure you that the same fate did not befall Richard and myself. You may be questioning why anybody would actually want to visit the Afar region in the first place, especially given this, one of their proverbs:
'It is better to die than to live without killing' (Afar proverb)
Well, the answer is simple (at least for me anyway). Over the past eight months I have seen Africa in all its beauty, and feel very privileged to have done so. It's not that I have become bored of the Dark Continents many delights, rather I wanted to go somewhere completely different, a place that is well off the beaten track and an ultimate test of ones self in terms of travelling.
Our humble home for two nights
Given my criteria there were not many places to choose from, in fact only one place in the entire continent would satisfy all my needs, the Danakil Depression. Lying 116m BELOW sea-level it is undoubtedly the single most amazing place I have ever been, and in all honesty am ever likely to go, such is its complete uniqueness. It took an entire day of driving through the mountains and a dried up river to reach our destination, Hamed-Ela, the tiny little village that is home to the Afar people.
Taking a break from the real world!
When I say village I mean a collection of wooden shacks, a more basic form of accommodation I have not seen in Africa, this was poverty like I had never seen before. Yet somehow these people existed, day-by-day they survived conditions that had me begging for mercy two days in. The heat doesn't just force you into the shade, it saps the life out of you, leaving you to live in a near zombie state from the moment you wake until you fall into a fitful sleep at night.
Sulphur spewing mini volcano
But we all accepted these conditions as happily as we could, knowing on the second day we would see a different side to Africa. The drive across the vast salt pan at 8am took us towards Eritrea, and already the temperature had edged over 35degrees, until eventually a hill of volcanic rocks grew in the distance. it was here we had to brave the sun, already scorching everything in sight, and set off on foot.
Rich loving the heat
Never has a simple walk been so hard, I am not exaggerating this but the heat was almost unbearable, the air as dry as the desert as it dries your eyes and mouth almost instantly. The only conditions I can liken it to are those you experience in a hot sauna, so you can imagine how much worse it is walking for ninety minutes in such conditions. Once over the cusp of the hill my mind, eyes and ears were hit with a scene they could not comprehend at first.
Suddenly the earth was rumbling beneath us, sulphur gases were filling my nose with a disgusting stench, and my eyes were dazzled by a multitude of brilliant yellows, greens, reds and white. The volcanic rock had given way to endless stretches where the earth's crust had been pulled so thin it no longer existed. In its place were sulphur pools, brilliant white mini volcanoes spouting hot acid into the air, and giant circles of crystallised rock scattered as far as the eye could see.
It was as if we had stepped through a portal that lead out onto the face of a different planet, nowhere in the world have I ever witnessed anything like this before. The heat now came at you from two directions, overhead in the form of the angry sun, and below from the earth's surface that was boiling away, and but for my mind being totally over-awed by what it was witnessing I would not have been able to cope in such intense heat. The colours were dazzling, quite unlike any I had seen in nature before, and so brilliantly pure.
As the sun's heat rose yet further Mekele, our guide, warned us we had to return to the vehicle before it became too hot - quite what he meant by 'too hot' when I am saturated through with sweat I am not sure, but clearly he knew we might not survive much longer in the current heat. As you walk away from the sulphur pools the air you breath starts to burn your throat less, and finally gradually the heat from the ground eases.
Sat back in the car I was lost for words, I had just been to a place so weird and wonderful that my mind could not process everything at once. A feeling of excitement that only such an experience can bring about filled my body as I realised not only had I been to Africa's highest point, Mount Kilimanjaro, but now I had been to its lowest point. All that is left to do is reach Cairo and I will have also been from one end of the continent to the other.
I wanted a test, I wanted a unique experience, and I wanted to see something that would blow my mind. I got it all, the Danakil Depression was everything I had hoped for and more, as well as being the hardest three days of travel I have ever endured. The guidebook was not wrong when it said this is only for the most adventurous of travellers, but I came through it and will never forget the day I stood on a different planet at the bottom of Africa.
Finally, there is a reason why the Afar people live where they do, but to find out why anyone would live in the Danakil Depression you will have to wait for the next blog.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 3, 2009 from Dalol, Ethiopia

The Fight for Survival
Dalol, Ethiopia
The start of the working day in the Danakil
For so many life in Africa is a test of survival, a test they must take and pass on a daily basis to ensure their continued existence in an often harsh world. A world where the odds are stacked against them, where it seems easier to give up the fight and concede an inevitable defeat. That would be the easy option, but the African spirit dictates the battle must go on, the fight for survival will continue until it is no longer possible and then, only then, will the fight cease.
Preparing the blocks into a uniform shape and size
This battle to survive goes on throughout the African continent, and has done for hundreds of years. There is not a single country where somebody is not striving to live another day, to feel the morning sun on their weathered face once more, to know they have once again overcome the hardships of life. Of course there are differing levels of hardships, but every battle is equally important and in a way unites communities, regions and countries. A shared sense of triumph against life.
Hard at work or hardly working...
From my own experiences in Africa there is no race of people faced with harder conditions for survival than the Afar people, the very people who inhabit the almost uninhabitable Danakil Depression. With an average yearly temperature exceeding 38 degrees, no running water, no electricity, no, well no anything come to think of it, one wonders why they continue to live like this. For one this is their test of survival, this is the battle they must win. And then there’s the salt, the very commodity that enables them to eek out an existence.
Loading the camels ready for the walk
As far as jobs go the extraction, transportation and selling of the salt found in the Danakil Depression has to rate as one of the hardest - especially when you take into account the paltry financial return it gives the Afari people. As the sun pokes its head over the horizon in the Danakil, tingeing the land a glorious golden orange, the silhouettes of men and camels can be seen marching towards the salt pans. Work here starts early, for with temperatures reaching 50 degrees in the mid-day sun there is no other choice; the hard work has to be done before the heat cripples the day.
With crude tools whole armies of men go about hacking blocks of salt from the earth’s surface, each roughly the size of a paving slab, and weighing as much too. For as far as the eye can see the land is flat, there is no rock face to hack the salt from, it must all come from the floor. This is back-breaking work of the highest order, and yet it doesn’t end there, this is just the start of the work. Once out of the ground the blocks of salt must be fashioned into a uniform shape and size ready for transportation.
The journey only gets harder
By now the heat is taking its toll - I am only watching the process and yet my energy is rapidly being sapped by the heat, so I can only imagine how those doing the work must feel. Finally, as the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the salt is ready to be loaded onto the camels and taken to the nearest market - which is only a five day walk away. And so, with the heat at its worst, whole caravans of camels are marched off into the desert, with nothing but sand and mountains in front of them.
Each camel is carrying around twenty blocks of salt, and will march through unbearable heat for a minimum of five days. At the end of the march the hardy camel handlers will sell the salt and then march back to the Danakil Depression to start the process again. To do this, day after day, year after year would make you think the salt is worth a small fortune. Wrong. Each block of salt is worth just short of a dollar. Or, if you like, sixty pence of a British pound. All that effort for next to nothing in return, yet it is enough to enable these unique people to win another battle, to see the light of another day.
This is life, and as long as they have salt the Afar people will continue to defy the odds stacked against them and continue to survive in conditions where most would perish.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 22, 2009 from Dalol, Ethiopia

The Final Chapter in Ethiopia
Lalibela, Ethiopia
Saint or sinner....
Described as ‘the jewel in Ethiopia’s crown’ the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela don’t fail to deliver, in fact they left me pretty much speechless. Not being religious I was not sure what to expect, particularly given many of those who visit here each year do so as part of pilgrimage - the Orthodox religions equivalent to a voyage to Mecca if you will.
Morning prayers
Add to the equation that I had just returned from the Danakil Depression and it was going to take something special to finish my time in this wonderful country on a high. Special, mesmerising, astounding, beyond belief, spectacular, awe-inspiring, incredible. Take your pick from these superlatives, all can be applied to Lalibela and its showcase of churches, without doing them any kind of justice. You could say it’s one of those places you have to see to believe.
I wonder where this goes...
What amazed me the most, given the grandeur and sheer beauty of the buildings, was that they were carved out of one piece of rock. Had they been built using hand-carved blocks they would have been mightily impressive, that they were carved as one from the ground was almost unfathomable. Exploring the site, its multiple tunnels linking churches, hidden rooms and unexpected priests quietly praying gives one the sense of being on the set of an Indian Jones film.
Keeping the faith
Despite not being religious, from the moment I entered the first church I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm and peace overcome me. It may sound strange to some but I felt a connection with my late Gran that I have not felt anywhere else before. In every church there was at least one priest quietly praying, often with several deeply religious locals. One church was also said to contain part of the Ark of the Covenant - but I will leave you to draw your own conclusions on the validity of that claim.
St George's Church from the top
The star attraction is, without doubt, the single church that stands alone away from the rest - St George's church - carved in the shape of a cross. Having left this church until the end there was the danger we, Richard and myself, would be a little ‘churched-out’ and not appreciate its full beauty. Given its impressiveness there was never any danger of that, and even if there had been the mummified bodies at rest in one of the open tombs would have been worth the visit itself. Maybe it was my macabre side, we all have one deep down, but seeing these ancient remains of humans only added to the experience.
St George's Church in all its beauty
With Lalibela done it signalled the end of an amazing five weeks in Ethiopia, a country that should not be missed for anything, and the start of the onward journey to Sudan. By some small grace of God I managed to obtain both my Egyptian and Sudanese visas inside three days - given they can take up to three weeks I was pretty impressed - and it was with many happy memories that I arrived at the border to Sudan.
Let there be light in the world
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 23, 2009 from Lalibela, Ethiopia

Surviving in Sudan
Khartoum, Sudan
My only picture from Sudan (thanks to Oliver JL Robinson Esq.)
When one thinks of Sudan it is almost inevitable they will conjure negative images of a country that they believe should be avoided at all costs. And, given the negative nature of what little media coverage we receive concerning the country you can’t blame people for these thoughts, or can you? Because I believe you should never judge a country until you have experienced it for yourself.
Yes it holds the unwanted record for the longest civil war in history, twenty-five years, and yes there are still problems in certain areas of the country, but as with anywhere in the world there is two sides to the story. And let me tell you, having seen the other side, Sudan is a country far from the image the media portray, which goes to show you shouldn’t form opinions without knowing the full story.
So allow me, if you will, to tell the other side to the tale, the one you wont find in the newspapers or on television. I will be honest, upon arriving at the border all I knew of Sudan was what I had heard in the news, which wasn’t exactly positive. Still I had an open mind and was ready for all eventualities, that is except no bank accepting Visa, which could have potentially spelt disaster.
Any potential disaster was thankfully avoided, owing largely to the incredible hospitality shown by the people I met - after a week in Sudan I can safely say the Sudanese are the single most welcoming and hospitable race I have encountered on my travels. I have been blessed in many countries with the manner in which I have been welcomed, from invites to people’s homes to no end of people happy to share what little they have with me, but nothing can compare to what I experienced in Sudan.
From the moment I crossed the border I was taken aback by the warmth with which I was welcomed - a large part of this can be attributed to the locals wanting those who are brave enough to venture here to leave with a different view to that which most begin their foray with, the rest is simply down to the good nature of the Sudanese people.
I had banked, excuse the pun, on being able to withdraw money in Khartoum and thus arrived in the capital only with the money I had exchanged on the black market at the border - which didn’t amount to much. A quick calculation of essential costs - transport to Egypt and alien registration fees - later and it suddenly hit me that I would scarcely have enough money for accommodation, let alone food.
What to do. I could either eat and sleep rough, or get a basic room (by basic I mean a sand-floored concrete room with a bed) and go hungry. In a mild state of worry, that was in danger of escalating into all out panic, I thought it best to go and get a cup of chai and a sheesha before making a decision on how best to spend my money. Little was I to know that this decision would, to a certain extent, ease my financial worries and introduce me to the retired General Mohammed - a man of was the very epitome of the Sudanese and their incredible hospitality.
Over chai and sheesha he told me how he had flown for the RAF in the 1960‘s, having trained in Shropshire, before returning to Sudan to pursue his business interests. On telling him my story he insisted that I stay free of charge at his hotel, and further to that he owned the chai and sheesha shop we were sat in and I was not to pay for anything there during my time in Khartoum. It sounds odd but at first I questioned the genuineness of the General‘s offers, as in the past I have met a host of people who have been full of empty words.
However, the Sudanese mean what they say, at least those I encountered did. And as for my predicament the General simply said I was in trouble and therefore it was his duty to help where he could. That left me with enough money to eat, although even that wasn’t entirely necessary as Yousef, the larger than life owner of a local eatery, often gave me my daily bowl of faul (a rather palatable blend of beans) and bread on the house. Again this gesture was not one of pity towards a poor traveller but a token of his goodwill.
Given the people I had met I left Khartoum with a certain degree of reluctance to sally forth to the desert town of Wadi Halfa - the location of the ferry that would take me to Egypt. It was here that I had the good fortune of falling in with three fellow gentleman explorers - I use the term gentleman explorers as, like myself, Giles, Oli and Davey would have been better suited to travelling in a style akin to Phillies Fogg. It was with the company of this fine trio that the voyage to Egypt, and ultimately Cairo began. To read more of their quest visit: http://africa-attraction.blogspot.com/
In conclusion I can say this; Sudan is a far cry from the troublesome country that many believe it to be, so much so that I would encourage anyone with the time or opportunity to visit and experience for themselves what I had the pleasure to encounter on my time here. Don't let the media dictate your opinions, rather go and form them yourselves.
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 24, 2009 from Khartoum, Sudan

An Explorer Reflects in Cairo
Cairo, Egypt
Lao Tzu once said that ‘a good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving’. And yet two hundred and eighty-seven days since setting forth from Cape Town I found myself, rather reluctantly I hasten to add, arriving in Cairo. And whilst I must admit I had a general intent on doing so at some stage, I was not quite prepared for how that arrival would affect me.
Upon arriving at the pyramids, with my fellow gentleman explorers, there was an initial sense of euphoria at having completed what is, by anyone’s reckoning, quite a considerable milestone. However, as I bid my trio of travelling companions a safe onward journey (they were heading straight for Libya) and climbed into a taxi the euphoria slowly began to fade as the reality of my achievement hit me.
All but a handful of those seemingly endless days in what I construe as ‘real Africa’ had, I was to rapidly discover, changed me as a person. Looking out of the window as we negotiated the craziness that is Cairo’s traffic - driving here is for only the brave, suicidal and stupid - I could not have been more shocked. It was as if, in comparison to the last nine months, I had arrived in a major European city and I didn't like it one bit.
I found myself longing for the quiet of the Ethiopian countryside, the calmness of Lake Malawi and the friendliness of Khartoum. Instead, as I left my taxi in a traffic-jam to continue on foot, all I got was a cacophony of noise and bright lights that hit me harder than a Mike Tyson punch. I stopped and looked around to see high-rise buildings towering above me, cars in gridlock all around, shops selling brand clothes that would not have looked out of place on Oxford Street and vast crowds of locals going about their lives.
There was only one thought in my mind; this is not Africa. In fact this couldn't be any further from the Africa I have come to know and love if it tried. After nine months of roughing it you might think I would have welcomed the modern, and very materialistic, city life - not so. I craved to be back in a remote village where the dirt roads are littered with people selling goods ranging from roasted maize and an assortment of vegetables to various animal parts (for cooking), dried fish and various altogether useless cheap gadgets imported from China.
Even the noise, and I am not a fan of noise per-se, of real Africa grew upon me, and now I longed for it - the shouting of hawkers, bleating animals roaming free on the streets, the odd car horn mixed in with the laughter of children playing in the late afternoon sun. All this was gone and would not be coming back anytime soon, and this thought filled me with a sadness I could not shift. I flooded my mind with many happy thoughts from the journey, but that only served to remind me of what had been and gone.
And so, on the eve of completing a travelling milestone I found myself sat with a bottle of red wine (maybe the only silver lining to the cloud) pining to be anywhere but Cairo. The magnitude of what I had achieved was not lost on me, but without the quite of the African night to reflect on it I was lost in a world I don't belong to. For mine is the Africa where life is a simple one, where at night the stars and moon are the only light as village elders hand down stories around the fire. Mine is the real Africa, the Africa that has molded me into who I am, the Africa that will live forever and a day in my heart.
The journey will go on, as it must, but it will take time for me to adjust to what is to come. But it will not be a permanent adjustment as one thing I am certain of is that my life is for living in Africa, and live it I will.
The Gentleman Explorers
written by  MarcusInAfrica on December 26, 2009 from Cairo, Egypt

Me on Clifton One before leaving

Test Match Cricket In Durban

The Perfect Meal For This Traveller

Say Hello To Lunch

My Prawn Queen

The View From The Base

Dusk At The Base Backpackers

A Proud Gran On The Ferry To Catembe

Shooting Pool Maputo Style

Smiling In The Face Of Adversity

The View From Catembe To Maputo

The Witch Doctor's Tikholo

The Two Amigoes (Myself and Hans)

The Witch Doctor's Village

The Witch Doctor's Hut

Sunrise In Tofo

A Perfect Sunrise

The First Lesson Of Surfing!

Me and Alena On The Dhow

Welcome to a little bit of camping paradise

The lake's finest oarsman...or so I'm told

Welcome to first class on the Llala

A spot of fishing out on the lake

A bed fit for a king

Alena with her new friends at Chizumulu

The Llala offloading passengers

Two very happy campers

Welcome to Likoma

Inside the Cathedral of St Peter

Breakfast is served fresh and greasy

Alena finds her water wings again

You have to love the wet-suit look....

The view from the bed in the tree

Looking out over the falls

Welcome to the bed in the tree

Cooling down behind the waterfall

Nutmeg

Vanilla

Ten of Zanzibar's finest chillies, and all for me!

There's no turning back now

I really think this is a bad idea

Suits you Sir!

The second coming of the chosen one.....or not!

Give us a kiss sexy!

Donkey Cam

Wading down the gorge

One hump or two...sadly for me, one with lots of pain

Up close with the senior giraffe

Traditional Kikuyu tribe members

Heading into the Northern hemisphere

A member of the Samburu tribe

Football on top of a mountain

Marcus Aurelius - leader of the Ethiopian armies!

Too close for comfort

Leach the Great Archer

The Mighty St.George

The best place for me I think

A castle fit for a king

Religion in pictures

Welcome to my new home!

Can anybody spot the road?

Taking a break from the real world!

The start of the working day in the Danakil

Hard at work or hardly working...

Preparing the blocks into a uniform shape and size

Loading the camels ready for the walk

The journey only gets harder

Saint or sinner....

Morning prayers

St George's Church in all its beauty

St George's Church from the top

I wonder where this goes...

Keeping the faith

One of the many priests in Lalibela

Let there be light in the world

My only picture from Sudan (thanks to Oliver JL Robinson Esq.)

The Gentleman Explorers

Me And The Pizza That Caused The Trouble

Stuck In The Sand

The Beach Of The Near Stabbing

Eusabio and His Masterpiece

The Perfect Sunrise

My Reading Hut

Sunrise At Kingfisher Bay

Dad Getting To Grips With A Tuna

The King Mackerel

The Illegal Rock Cod

A Dead Shark

A Boat With A View

The Wedding Boat At Benguerra Island

The Ride To North Point Beach

The Happy Couple At The Wedding Chapel

I Take Thee....

You May Now Kiss The Bride

The Happy Couple

The Wedding Party

Look What I Can See

Hippo Head In Full Flight

One, Two, Three, Weeeeee

Trousers The African Way

What You Looking At Punk?

Give Us A Kiss!

Washed Up In Botswana

The Knife-Edge Bridge

The Craziest Border Crossing Yet - Zambia!

The Smoke That Thunders

Looking Along The Falls

Two Great Explorers - Livingstone And Leach!

Down By The Boiling Pot

It's Almost Off Now

Cut Her Clucking Head Off

Two Naked Birds - Result!

Welcome to My Office

The building on the left is where I was locked up for an hour - not pleasant!

The scene of THEIR crime!

No longer welcome in Malawi

Sweating it out in a poncho (taken post malaria, hence the smile!)

Lazy Days At Aqua Africa

The chefs hard at work

The Expansion of Hope Tour 2009 - Nick and Luke

A birthday message from Mayoka

Chikunt and Miaso do their bit

Proof of the hardwork

A birthday lunch with a view

Happy to have Matt with me on my birthday

Birthday dinner fit for a king

Chikunt

Two of the poncho clan, myself and Luke

Harry puts his back into it for a good cause

Two happy trench diggers

Putting the well to good use

Amama with her clan of children

Beauty by name and nature

Possibly the best view from dinner ever

Brother in Arms

Conquering Kilimanjaro in more ways than one

Little White Fluffy Clouds

The Crater a.k.a The Danger Zone