Two eeks and an oops

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  Pemba, Mozambique
Saturday, April 23, 2011

Its a little tricky typing on a laptop while in a hammock, but I shall prevail!

We are now [at the time of writing] just passed Inhambane on the coast of Mozambique in a little spot called Sylvia's Shoal, outside the town of Morrungulo. The Berndsens will remember this spot for its shade and undulating grassy lawns...yes, undulating... great word. We visited it some four years ago post a raucous week-long stay on Andy Johnson's boat in Kariba and happy to report that, apart from one other couple for one night, we are the only people here and not much has changed.

Such happiness.

We have set camp and done what all campers who are more than overnighting at one place do, we have spread out. The 'palace' is up (the ground tent); the awning is out, the washing drying on the line and everything is being aired and dusted. Its only day 11 or 12 of the trip and we are learning at an exponential rate the fine art of camping. It begins with the surveying of the camp site, the polite discussion of where and how to set up camp, the manoeuvring of the Beast (with slightly less polite discussion), and then, with me on the roof, we unleash the Howler, unlock the gas bottles, throw down the firewood; before chairs, table and beer are unpacked and viola! we then sit, recover and contemplate something intelligent.

Its been a great few days, the bum is not so numb from driving and we have braved a few energetic moments. Like, for example, we donned the overalls (I know, like we need an excuse) and checked out the underneath of the car. All good in theory, still not quite sure what we are looking for but hoping enthusiasm will make the Beast feel loved enough not to blow a gasket. Then, horror of all horrors, we went for a run, did some situps, swam...then sat, recovered and contemplated something intelligent. 

Crossing into Mozam went with few hitches. For some reason, like being hungover at church, the guilty conscience kicks in as you ever so politely wrangle your way through the bureaucracy. A little helpful hint picked up from Bryan and Lani, our first ever internet friends in whose footsteps we boldly tread (http://www.travelpod.com/members/afrikanskies), is to make sure the back of the car looks incredibly untidy and disorganised so that a thorough inspection by customs becomes a little too much like hard work. We were almost caught out when the official spotted some car spares, but Will, a testament to diplomacy,  got us on our way again with not so much as a coke changing hands.
 
Before we left, colleagues of Will had remarked – some in awe, and some maybe just being polite – that they would love to do a similar trip to ours, but their wives wouldn't be keen. Will, the Minister of Finance, International Relations, Music, Muscle and Information, has left me with the very important role of just actually pitching up for this trip. I have tried very hard to be useful, but armed with three Portuguese phrases (bom dia / como esta? / obrigada ) which I throw around willy nilly as often as I can, Will has now gallantly offered to be Minister of Language as well. And he is doing, for the most part, a great job. By changing the accent and speaking really quickly, we have managed to get by using his somewhat vast (so he tells me) Spanish vocabulary. He even talked us into staying a night at a derelict camping site some eleven-man-eating-spider-infested kilometres off the road (the first of the 'eeks'). This place, Papagaio, only opens in May according to a not-too-engaging Maneke. The conversation went something like this (I have taken the liberty to translate for you):
Maneke: no possible (Weary travellers, it is unfortunately not possible for you to stay here)
Will: Por que nao? (Could you kindly tell us why not?)
Maneke: Icampiso cerrardo. Aberto Meio. (It is our low season and as you can see, we have no staff. We only open in May. My humblest apologies.)
Will: Que? (huh?)
Maneke: Icampiso cerrardo. Aberto Meio.
Will: Aaah, campiso cerrado?
Maneke: Sim (yes, good sir)
Will: Aaah, aberto Meio?
Maneke: Sim
Will: Hmmmmm. Uma grande problem. Nao otre campisimo for 5 horre! Por favor? (This is unfortunately a great problem for us old chap. There is no other camping for 5 hours and unfortunately its already getting dark. Please, please reconsider: this wont sit well with the wife and I've just cracked open a beer)
Maneke: … (blah blah portuguez... blah blah... Govermente...problemo...nao possible …6am (Its not me, its the government officials, you know how it is, but perhaps we can negotiate if you can leave the campsite by 6am?)
Will: Si si, no probleme! Obrigado. (Excellent idea, no problem, we will be out of here by 6am. Thank you for making me look like a hero in front of my wife)
Maneke: Tudo bem (all good and no problem on the wife bit)
Will: Muite grande oite legge insecte? Spyder? (While we are on such good terms, could you be so kind as tell me what those insects are called in your language, the ones with the massive eight legs? We call them spiders... and good grief they are big!)
Maneke: Que? (What the …?)
Will: Spiders?
Maneke: ? 
Karen (telepathically): Tuck and roll son, tuck and roll

Needless to say, by 6am we were already twenty minutes into the eleven-man-eating-spider-infested kilometres back to the main road.

Otherwise, team KW is doing well. We are managing to make the yummy pre-made meals from Claire last and have only subjected ourselves to one really, really bad meal. For Will not to eat meat, you can only imagine how ghastly the meal was: the future of torr hung precariously in the balance.

We almost had our first fatality as well – the second 'eek' moment. Yours truly was almost massacred by a falling coconut. What a way to go I know, but a rookie error actually and if you pay attention, you'll notice local footprints in the sand give palm trees a wide berth. 

We have also had our first theft of torr unfortunately. We thought ourselves real rambos when we had to let the air out of the tyres to get to one campsite just north of Xai Xai. Finally we were putting all that 4x4 knowledge to good use. Successfully 'negotiating the obstacle', we treated ourselves to dinner out with a not-so-cheery waiter called Jerry. Sometime between there and waking up the next morning, someone helped themselves to the valve caps. I don't blame them, they were shiny and new, essential, of course, to torr.

And then we had our first oops of torr too. When pumping up the tyres – and consequently noticing the lack of valve caps - Will left the tyre pressure gauge on the bumper and we drove off. It was shiny and new too... and essential, of course, to torr. Took us two days to notice its absence. 

Bolting forward into present day, Will and I are currently watching the Sharks Hurricanes game at a backpackers called Russell’s Place in Pemba. We are probably two nights from crossing over the border into Tanzania. Apparently life's simple joys like tar – which for the most part has been in good nick all the way through Mozam –  are soon to become fondly reminisced as we head to the Chinese built Unity Bridge a couple hours inland. You can apparently cross the border at the mouth of the Rovuma river but I’m not sure how the Beast will take to being floated across the river on several tied up dugouts, a minor improvement, however, to the ferry which has apparently sunk.

I'm running a little behind on the blog and haven't touched on our trip to see Rob and Jos at the fabulously refreshing Gorongoza National Park, or Ilha de Mozambique – but in the meantime, we will continue to enjoy what life is throwing at us including some gentle entertainment kindly provided by several off duty SA Navy sailors trying their luck with an American lesbian couple that we have just met. Will keep you posted.

Happy Easter!

KW

Summary:

Days on torr: 22
Nights in the Howler:13 (and two in luxury – more about that next time)
Stings – Karen: one wasp, one unidentified, one jelly thing.
Stings – William: none
Borders: one
Bribes: none
Will's afro progress: good
Will's afro wash: weekly (...not so good)
Mileage: 4833km
Fuel guzzling: 11.1 litres/100km
Near deaths: 1
Losses/thefts: 2
Number of scary man-eating spider webs caught in roofrack: 3
Number of scary man-eating spiders still unaccounted for:  1
Showers in 2x shiny and new camp showers: none
Effectiveness of plastic egg holders: 0% (eggs smaller than void, shake, then break)

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Undulating lawns in Morrungulo	Paulo and Angels	Everyone loves a Baobab!	Papagaio - nice to have the place to ourselves
Man-eating spider alley	Will giving the man-eating spiders a talking too	MAN-EATING SPIDER!   Comments!	Will putting his feet up..on me
Keeping ourselves amused

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