Mozambique

The trip to Mozambique was not what we expected it to be at all. Probably due to the fact that we decided to wing it and didn't plan anything. A can of puncture repair goo for the slow leaking smoothish back tyre, 2 kiddies goggles and 1 plastic snorkel and having read Justin Fox's trip to Mozambique which he did 10 yeas ago combined with our preconceived expectations about the place without doing any investigating did not prepare us. Accomodation was much more expensive than we thought and we didn't see any crystal clear water to use our brand new pink goggles. We forgot to pack the 2 blow up pool lilo's to use as sleeping mattresses and Theo's glue job to the back tyre tube bombed out. We didn't bother with a map since we knew we were going to Maputu which was a straight road from Komati Poort and then from there to an island which Justin Fox mentioned in his book (amongst many other islands) except we kept forgetting the name.

Did we enjoy the trip? Yes thoroughly!

The XT's are pretty reliable bikes and Theo's is held together with a lot of grease and dirt . My arse was killing me after 50 km's of riding, not having done a bike trip for so long and not on a scrambler with a greasy footpeg. I clutched my pants around the calf area to support my bum knee over the bumps. Our trip was somewhere in the region of about 400km one way but we weren't in a hurry..

The area around Hazyview is lush tropical and we stopped for roadside lunch in the beautiful mountain pass and camped overnight in the town. Next day at a pub beer stop in Malalane we chatted to a guy who told us we could overnight at Komati Poort and that we'd get the best price exchanging Rands for Meticas behind the Sasol garage. We took his advice and camped that night at the border town. Exchange rate 1 - 3.7. We were tired and hot but I sat grinning as I sucked on the deliciously sweet sugar cane stalks which had fallen off tranport trucks along the road and which we'd picked up and wedged alongside the tent strapped across the handlebars. I didn't care about the juice running down my chin onto my Tshirt or that the 6pack of beers were warm within a half an hour or that the ground was hard.

Next morning stiff, aching and puffy eyed from lack of sleep, I wedged my bruised body between Theo and the topbox, rubbed sand on the oily footpeg for traction and off we went. We arrived at the busy, chaotic border not knowing where to go but within seconds a runner had spotted our white faces, introduced himself to us and R100 and only 1/2 hour later we were through both sides. Money worth spending if you don't know the ropes.

We'd arrived. Yeehaa! We passed buggerall for 100km's except bushes and the odd reed hut here and there all the way to Maputu but I kept my eye's peeled for the bandit cops who apparantly jump out from behind the bushes demanding money for fines which they invent. We were also warned numerously to obey the speed limit but we had to wing that as well since the tent covered the clocks making it a guess as to what our speed was.

We arrived in Maputu and slowed down to what felt like 60 and stopped at the first restaurant/bar to get 2 cold Dos M's, the local beer. Tasted good and R10 each. The capital city is big and not very interesting to look at i.e. I didn't see many beautiful old buildings except one or two. For some reason I expected rows of old Portuguese colonial buildings (some bombed out shells as evidence of old wars), cobbled paved roads and pretty Mozambiquean women walking around with hand crafted pots on their heads selling spices under coconut trees. I was expecting to overnight at a backpackers on an aqua beachfront sipping rum cocktails chatting to long haired hippi travellers while bronzed Swedes lay topless on powder soft sand talking their yurdy gurdy sing song language about spectaclar corals.. When Justin Fox was there 10 years ago he said there were turds floating in the ocean and Muslin men would lift there robes to take a dump right there on the beaches but I couldn't remember where he saw that but hoped it was more north.

IInstead Maputu was just another big dirty (I've seen worse) city with no historical magesty but lots of new construction underway. Rows of ugly delapidated flats overshadow the odd Mosque and the sea looked like Blaauwbeg, cold, choppy and dark. Everyone drives a 4x4 and seem impatiant on the roads but as a nation, we found everyone smiley faced and happy. Even the poor, simple people ecking out a living selling a handful of vegies on street corners were in good spirits.

We found 2 so called backpackers both charging a hectic R500/room so we ended up booking into a hotel parkhome on the beachfront at R500/flatlet, cutting into the budget but what the heck it had a proper bathroom and a big, inviting, clean, soft bed so we moved my birthday a day earlier. We bounced on the bed in glee, draped washing over the curtain rail and filled up the ice trays in the little fridge. We strolled across the road to the vendors on the windy beachfront to look for supper and locally brewed rum but couldn't remember the name of the brew.. Loads of locals line the road selling beers from coolerboxes and braaied chicken and pap. Locals seemed to hang out for a beer and a bite after work and the place had a vibey sort of Khayalitsha feel to it and we enjoyed ourselves amonst the friendly people but couldn't find fresh prawns to cook for supper. We jumped on the bike, headed into town and found the fishmarket by luck. Communicating is really difficult since everyone speaks Portuguese but English is hardly spoken. Theo jumped with excitment when he saw prawns (tiger prawns R80/kg), crabs, all kinds of fish, clams, cuttlefish, calamari, you name it they had it. 1 kg of prawns and 2 crabs clawing around in my backpack and wavey sign language sent us in the direction of the vegie maket in search of lemons, peri-peri and the elusive rum.. Some dude looking to make a quick buck decided we needed help so we let him, easier to pay a coupla rand than ignore his persistance. Back in our flatlet we realised there was no stove so we hauled out the gas cooker and with one small pot, Theo cooked us a delicious seafood meal with the air con running full blast.

The room price included breakfast - peanut butter and jam toast and coffee and juice so we filled up and left our stuff behind to tour the city. Thats when Theo's back tyre patchwork came unstuck. The repair can oozed out so the only thing to do was push the bike in first gear, Theo working his wrists on the clutch, up and down roads in the heat. Luckily a friendly Mozambiquean woman, Flavia, who spoke English, saw our dilema and left her market hair dresser stand to help us by taking us to tyre places and did all the talking.

Lunchtime we zoomed back to the hotel grabbed our stuff and headed the 30km in the direction of the island whose name we kept forgetting. We first needed to get to the town Marakesh something or other and then to the Island Makanetta or something like that. We found ourselves on a soft sandy road but smiley people told us we needed to carry on for 10km's and we'd get there. We slogged on in 1st gear past waving people and spaza type shops, struggling to keep the bike upright. A local dude came flying past (ok no luggage and only 1 up) but we were amazed at the speed he did on his 125 road bike in the soft sand. An hour and 5k's later another barefooted local flew by with a pillion, her sarong blowing in the wind and back tyre skidding as they zoomed by. Eventually we arrived at our destination and saw the tar road we could have taken. We knocked back a cold Dos M while waiting for the ferry and could only laugh at our eventful day, a birthday I won't easily forget. Oh and for good measure I managed to lock myself in the toilet while scrutinizing the bucket and jug flushing system and nealry missed the ferry. I ran out tying up my pants and waving at them just in time. Theo was hanging onto the bike wedged in between a 4x4 and a boat on the oily deck.

The island we chose is a South African fishermen's playground. Our first night at Tan A Biki felt like we were at some Gautenaleng resort. Loads of South African tourists (the only we saw) were there for the fishing and to kuier in the bar with a big screen TV for the rugby. Not our scene so next morning we explored the soft sand island roads and found Pisane Resort, (www.pisane.zar.cc bookings 0825629393) where the very friendly South African owner, Billy, transported our luggage, let us use the fridge, gave us charcoal, took us to the Spaza shop, even told us to use some of his groceries and he was cheaper than the other resort. We were thrilled to eventually find the rum Tipo Tinto which even though it came in a plastic bottle tasted yummy. We were the only people there so had the pool and clean ablutions to ourselves. We strolled down the beach to the bar at the neighbouring resort, lazed around the pool and ate devine Baracuda fish for 2 days.

We never got to see bright corals or exotic fish with our goggles but we had great fun with them in the pool. I was grateful the Maputu puncture repair job got us back to our bus in Balule where a soft bed beckomed my weary limbs and even thouth the trip didn't happen as I'd imagined, I enjoyed the element of surprise, saw a small bit of Mozambique and had a blast.