Angola Part II…
Here’s an idea…let’s trailer our motorbikes 2350km over 3 days to Ondangwa in Namibia, then ride 2200km through Angola before driving 2350km back home again!
And so our Angolan Adventure began…
Every last 2 weeks in April for the past 4 years, Steve, Gavin and I jump on our motorbikes and set off on a simplistic rough-camping ride to explore the more remote quarters of Southern Africa. Since I had already ridden through South Western Angola 17 years ago, Steve and Gav couldn’t resist to go and see for themselves if my tales of “truly rugged and remote” held true.
As mentioned earlier, the drive up took 3 days and crossed through both Botswana and Namibia just to get to the starting point! Arriving in Ondangwa just after sunset provided us a spectacular view of the rising full moon.
The next morning we left the car and trailer at a little museum where we camped for the night. Heading North to the border at Calque, we encountered an incredible 160km long canal carrying water from the Kunene River at Ruacana all the way to Oshakati, making agricultural projects viable in this otherwise arid region.
We expected an arduous border crossing, however nothing could have been farther from reality! Very courteous and helpful officials made for a hassle-free procedure and before you could say “Bom dia” we were through and riding up the fast deteriorating dirt road to Xangongo.
With the midday sun beating down and the going slowing with every passing kilometer, we eventually sought shelter in the sparse shade of a mopane tree for lunch. After Gavin's obligatory 30min midday-siesta, we continued for another two hours until we reached a large baobab tree which drew our attention. It wasn’t so much the tree as the little “Cuca-shop" (Tuck-shop) next to it that demanded our interest and for the first time I discovered the particular origin of the name… The girl running the shop was rather shrewd and managed to wrest a jaw-dropping amount of Kwanza from Steve and Gavin…all worth it though!
Unsurprisingly, beer has a rather soporific effect and as the sun was setting, we embarked on a search for a secluded/private camping spot somewhere away from the road so as to avoid attention from passersby. I say embarked with the express purpose of highlighting that it is surprisingly challenging due to the ubiquitousness of people EVERYWHERE especially in rural areas. The road acts as a spine along which continuous clusters of development appears in the form of villages, houses, crop-fields and domestic livestock.
The fear of breaking down and being stranded for days without being discovered is virtually unfounded…you really have to go WAY out for that to be realistic.
We managed to find a sheltered site and had our first wild-camp for the trip. Dinner comprised of dehydrated smash, corned-meat and of course a few more Cucas!
Entering Xangongo saw us in search of fuel, cognisant of the warning at the border that there was a shortage in the Southern region. Eventually we found the only place in town with fuel (as evident by the very long queue) and patiently waited our turn. We filled the tanks as well as the 7L fuel-bladders we brought for just these circumstances and continued up towards Lubango and on to a place called Tundavala. This is basically a Western mirror image of the Eastern Escarpment which we find here in South Africa.
The elevational variation is staggering and provides for amazing vistas and heart-stopping chasms. Legend has it that during the civil war (1975-2002) dissidents were brought here…and not for sightseeing.
We camped amongst some of the sandstone formations at the top at an elevation in excess of 2200m (7220ft). Needless to say the night-time temperatures plummeted, necessitating a little campfire which provided heat as well as cook our dinner.
Leaving Lubango behind us we passed by some Dorsland Trekkers graveyards at Humpata and then arrived at one of the most famous features of SW Angola, the incredible Serra de Leba Pass!
Not only did we marvel at the breathtaking scenery, but we also got roped into being extras in some movie which was being filmed at the pass…we featured as part of a motorcycle gang winding our way down the twisty bends of the pass…rather surreal…
Just short of Namibe, we passed by the location where in 2002 I was involved in a spectacular crash which could easily have been disastrous…but wasn’t. No fond memories though…
Arriving in the town of Namibe, we made our way to the same campsite on the beach which I camped in 17 years ago…a bit of nostalgia. What was evident though was that the derelict facility was a thoroughfare for pedestrians accessing the beach and we drew a lot of attention…and from some suspicious looking characters too. We immediately felt a bit vulnerable but wanted to be on the beach for the night and after a fabulous dinner of fresh fish we returned to our campsite. Since I did not bring a tent (I prefer to sleep open under the stars), I locked everything I could in the panniers and clipped my backpack to the front wheel of the bike, half a foot from my head…you can already see where this is heading…
Waking at 0230 to go mark my territory, I noticed that my backpack was gone! The stealthy thieves snuck in during a period where I was snoring away and relieved me of a very expensive backpack. Fortunately it didn’t contain anything critical to the continuation of our trip and what was lost, although costly, could be replaced over time…one of the items lost was a new Garmin inReach Mini satellite communication and tracking device (more about this later). At the time I thought not to let Marilda (my wife) know about the theft.
The sense of powerlessness was so infuriating and what made it clear to us that we should just get on our horses and continue, was when after driving a few laps around our campsite, a fairly inebriated guy got out to come speak to us turned out to be a senior police officer…just let go and walk away.
Our next objective was to get into or close to Iona National Park in the SW corner of the country. Knowing that two-wheeled transport (especially heavily laden) doesn’t do well in deep sand, we hoped for more of a gravel access road and set off into the yonder.
En route to Iona, we quickly popped in to Lake Arco which impressed me immensely last time I was here. A massive freshwater lake surrounded by eroded sedimentary layers and scores of waterbirds. A veritable oasis.
The piece-de-resistance of this lake is a stunningly eroded arch overlooking the waterside.
As is often the case, we didn’t spend nearly enough time here but despite the harsh midday light, the images turned out sufficiently acceptable.
Departing Arco we made our way further SE along the gravelly track leading towards the main gate to Iona NP which was another 130km distant.
We wound our way through undulating eroded areas, criss-crossed the river a few times and passed the last of the settlements, leaving civilisation behind.
Cresting a high ridge suddenly revealed one of the most fascinating sedimentary formations I’ve seen in a very long time! Distinctly different mineral contents produced varied textures and colours in a massive block which stood proud of the surrounding plain.
This formation I would love to revisit sometime in the future…
Soon after passing the multi-coloured sediments the road reduced from well-worn to faint two-track…and soon after that from gravel to deep loose sand…a nemesis for two-wheels! Steve was in the lead followed by myself and then Gavin brought up the rear as we fought our way through the sand on our heavy-laden steeds. Standard procedure for surviving deep sand entails “Stand-Up, Look Up and Open Up”! This works remarkably well in most cases…however there are instances where the power-to-weight-ration of the bike (by being too heavy) doesn’t breach the required threshold to lift you out of trouble…and I met such a moment just then.
The combination of deep tracks with a high central ridge and loose constancy of the surface coupled with gyroscopic precession resulted in a rather spectacular crash. After swerving to miss some rocks the bike snaked out of control and whipped to the left, flinging me to the right with my right arm extended…exposing my ribcage to the impact.
With a dull thud my 142kg body ground to a halt with expected results, broken ribs.
By the time I fell, Steve had already stopped 60m ahead as he realised that the road remained too sandy for safe travel. After both Gavin and Steve helped me lift my undamaged bike from the soft sand, Steve went to fetch his bike…only to also spectacularly come off his bike, breaking a mounting bracket of his one pannier.
Fortunately he did not injure himself and the pannier was sufficiently strapped to last the remainder of the trip.
Knowing that there was no back-up vehicle or anyone to help us except the last village we passed by miles and miles back…there was only one solution, suck up the pain and ride.
We got going as soon as possible before things got stiff and sore, struggling our way back to the more solid surface of the gravel in the midday heat.
As soon as we reached the bigger road we started looking for a suitably remote spot to camp for the night, none off us wanted to spend the night in town and gauging by the symptoms, I had no serious complications due to the broken ribs.
I remembered a particular landscape which I noticed en route in and we went to investigate, what a pleasant surprise awaited us!
An incredibly colourful eroded section provided ample seclusion with a network of gullies and hidden valleys where we eventually set up camp…completely surrounded by typical “badlands”. The changing hues as the sun set provided a palette beyond belief!
A deep sense of euphoria overcame me as I marvelled at the fairytale world around me.
Clear separation in differing sedimentation made for stark contrasts and erosion also sculpted some amazing imaginary creatures.
This flying eagle above was only one of many totems looking over us that night.
Big skies and pastel colours ushered in blue-hour and time to set up camp. While Steve and Gavin pitched their tents I shuffled around camera in-hand capturing some of the most astounding scenes I’d witnessed in many years.
From where I slept under the stars, the side-lit tent and shadows cast against the cliffs by the fire made for a surreal view. The lone-standing “blade” pinnacle was awesome!
Passing through Namibe town the next morning saw us briefly stopping to get pain-tablets for my now rather sensitive ribs. Little did I know that Ibuprofen would have absolutely zero effect on me…
We continued North along the coastal road where we briefly stopped on a massive gravel plain where I noticed this little gem of a frame. “Heart of stone” or “Love on the rocks”?
Shortly later we arrived at a small campsite on the beach where we were the only people utilising the facility. The beer was cold and the fire warm.
In an attempt to make my bed as comfy as possible, taking into account that my inflatable mattress ran flat within 5min, I dug myself a hole which alleviated some of the pressure.
The cold Atlantic here is extremely rich in life and very popular with fishermen.
We just enjoyed the cooler temperatures, muted colours and ruggedness.
Heading further up along the coast we could clearly see the fog-belt form as the warm humid air suddenly drifts onto the cold shoreline, the barrenness of the coastal strip is quite breathtaking in its own right.
The road to Lucira, a small fishing village, is all tarred now and kilometers rolled by quickly.
Not wanting to camp in or near civilisation again, we opted to continue after restocking with basic supplies and find our own spot of paradise. For the next 150km the road was unsurfaced and the going…very slow. Steep gradients, gravels, patches of sand and loads of rocks added some technical riding challenges but kept our minds occupied and stimulated. In the entire day of riding we encountered maybe 5 vehicles on this stretch. Large herds of cattle, goats and donkeys were driven by pedestrian herders which were adorned in cultural dress resembling a blend of Southern and East African tribes. All were friendly and waved enthusiastically but proud as we passed.
As sunset approached, we crested a very steep hill and decided to locate our campsite a few hundred meters away from the road. A pretty little koppie served as shelter from the road and we set out to collect wood for our fire.
After travelling for so many hours and with not much traffic, we thought we were well placed to spend a quiet night under the starry skies…this was not to be!
As dusk fell, we could hear the clanging of cow-bells, braying of donkeys and barking of dogs accompanied with the talking of people…the last herders we passed had caught up.
And so it was that we drifted off to the sounds associated with rural life.
As mentioned earlier, it was again striking how difficult it is to get away from people and their concomitant noises! Obviously if one could hike out perpendicular to the roads in these areas, it would be achievable, but the risk of punctures or serious falls precluded such ventures.
Finding solitude has become a very important aspect for me of late and I am hopeful to succeed in discovering more easily accessible sanctuaries in time to come.
Early the next morning we set out on the last stretch of the rugged road, below you can just make out the thread of track as it winds over the hills just below the horizon on the left side of the frame…
Making good progress despite feeling like someone stabbing a butchers knife between my ribs and twisting it every time I hit a rock or hole, we finally made it to the riverbed after which the road became surfaced again. The heat was fairly intense and we had also run out of water…so we truly appreciated the hand-pump at a well.
Riding along the asphalt was a mixed blessing as the concern for mechanical failure due to the rigours of the dirt is moot BUT the whole essence of being remote and wild is rendered invalid by the modernity of the surface, ease of progress and increased traffic.
The little village of Dombe Grande made for a perfect lunch stop which fortified us for the remaining miles to Lobito and The Zulu Bar where we stayed on my last visit here. There isn’t an official campsite anymore but the owner let us camp on the beach and use his staff ablutions for the night. Laying on the beach stretched out on a lounger with an iced G&T, the sunset was enhanced by passing dolphins close to the shore.
Dinner comprised of a whole fresh fish with lemon and butter and even I ate to the last bite! Another G&T was necessary as the mosquitoes were flying in flocks of billions. Due to the heat and humidity my sleeping-bag was way too hot which necessitated unzipping it and exposing skin…and even Gav and Steve were convinced that we were all going to get malaria from this trip.
With my phone somehow having lost its roaming abilities, I had no comms but a message via Gavin’s phone relayed about Marilda receiving a message from the USA stating that I have activated the S.O.S on my inReach device and that I am in trouble! They wanted to know if I was ok or if they needed to send in the Marines. Obviously she had no idea what was going on and with us at the time travelling the “rugged road” sans signal there was no comms. She, understandably so, was very concerned and it was only later that the whole story was revealed and fears allayed. One of the features of the inReach is that with the S.O.S it sends coordinates…so we agonised about turning back to utilise the locating function of the device to catch the thief at his house! The 150km, 2 day journey on the “Rugged Road” was enough of an obstacle though…
The road to Lubango had some stretches with serious potholes but otherwise good, all of us however had independent close-calls with extremely fast-driving and careless drivers which was a rude reminder that we were back in civilisation. The rolling landscape with high mountains and thousands of baobab trees slowed us down and the antagonistic traffic lengthened our journey from an expected 4hrs to 7! Reaching Lubango at sunset we were very low on fuel and were filled with anxiety as every single station we passed was either closed or had very long queues. Riding into one particular station we were showed away by an attendant stating that they had no fuel. We eventually accepted that queuing is the only option and so we did…for more than an hour, and as we reached the front of the line, they too ran out! Now what?
We rode back into town and suddenly there was a massive queue at the same station which showed us away earlier…how does that work? Conspiracies abound.
Either way, we finally filled up everything we had and decided to rather spend the night in Lubango than push on through the night as it would be way too dangerous. So we did.
Early next morning we hit the road again and slowly made progress SE towards the Namibian border. During midday, as is custom, we stopped for Gav to have his obligatory siesta…it is definitely worth taking that forced break. We looked for a quiet spot under a tree and after many kilometers of passing hut after hut after kraal after hut, we found what looked like a vacant tree. No sooner had we parked our bikes, snacked lunch and lay prone on the ground under our bikes, when a family came strolling out of the bush to make themselves comfortable on the side of the road waiting for a ride…exactly where we stopped. No peace and quiet…amazing.
Later in the afternoon we passed one of the few remaining wrecks from the civil war which wreaked havoc on the country. As mentioned in my newsletter from 17 years ago, there is a morbid sense surrounding these armoured carcasses and a vivid reminder of armed conflict.
A short while past this scene, I insisted on revisiting a memorial which really had a deep impact on me. Mandume Rei is quite ornate in design and contains the leaf-design from my favourite tree in all the world…the Mopane.
Crossing the border back South before dark was as painless as entry and soon we were back at the trailer and car sans any serious incident. What more can one ask for?
There are quite a few valuable lessons I glean from this particular trip.
Always take a tent…I don’t HAVE to use it if I don’t want to (which is all the time) but it’ll be available to keep the mosquitoes at bay and keep your backpack from easy access by thieves!!!!!!
Always pay attention to the rearview mirror. The amount of times there were near-misses where the offending vehicle approached from the rear and I didn’t see them coming was concerning.
Slow down. Not in actual velocity but rather itinerary. We were pressed for time so slept in a different camp every single night for 2 weeks. Rather sacrifice destinations to lengthen stays in fewer.
When you “see” a photographic opportunity, stop and take it. You will definitely regret not doing so later.
Ensure that any potentially aggravating event on trip is immediately and thoroughly communicated to home-base.
Thanks for reading all this way, I appreciate your patience with this non-safari piece.
Yours in adventure