Cape to Cardiff - MarcusInAfrica

An Explorer Reflects in Cairo

MarcusInAfrica — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

Surviving in Sudan

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

The Final Chapter in Ethiopia

MarcusInAfrica — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

The Fight for Survival

MarcusInAfrica — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

Welcome to the Danakil Depression

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

Hyenas, Religion and a Castle

MarcusInAfrica — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

One Man and his Horse

MarcusInAfrica — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

The Bandit Run

MarcusInAfrica — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

A Whistle Stop Tour in Kenya

MarcusInAfrica — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

A Step Back in Time

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

Feeling The Heat in Zanzibar

MarcusInAfrica — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

The Adventure Continues

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

Malawi Here We Come...Again

MarcusInAfrica — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

Mind Over Matter

MarcusInAfrica — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

Standing on top of Africa

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

DABW and the Village

MarcusInAfrica — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

A Birthday to Remember in Malawi

MarcusInAfrica — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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.

The Other Side of the Lake

MarcusInAfrica — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

The Wild Goat Chase

MarcusInAfrica — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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

The Week From Hell - Part Two

MarcusInAfrica — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

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