Apologies for the break-in transmission. We’ve been travelling on Zambia’s A105 highway for 4 days now, headed for Uganda. Apparently, according to Billy, the A105 is just like Route 66 back in the US, but just without any tar, without any traffic, no cellphone coverage, no Internet coverage, no road signs, no towns, no fuel stations, no sea views, no rural business centers like we get in Zim, no nothing.
Day 10 of the Old Legs Silverback Tour – The Wildlife Camp, South Luangwa to Kalovia Bush Camp in the middle of nowhere.
Distance – 75 km
Climb – 157 m
Time – 7 hr 29 min
Ave Heart Rate – 103 bpm
Max Heart Rate – 161 bpm
I lied when I say no traffic and no fuel. In the last 4 days, we’ve passed 5 cars, 6 motorbikes, and some other guys on bicycles and I did see a chap selling 500 ml plastic bottles of pilfered diesel.
This part of Zambia is about as remote and cut-off from the wide world as you can possibly get.
I’m blogging from the Kalovia Bush camp on the banks of the Luangwa River. It is 04.00 a.m. and there are hyena all-around camp making a bloody racket. And to complete my African experience, last night I pitched my tent on top of a nest of carnivorous ants and they are just starting to wake up. I’m in the middle of my best adventure ever.
The Old Legs mantra is do good, have fun and above all, do epic. Epic is all about building memories that last forever. On our day 10 ride, we did epic in spades.
To set the mood music for the day, a passing pack of 5 wild dogs pressed pause on their hunt to watch us start pedaling. Robbie Clifford, our guide for the next 3 days, said the 6th member of the pack was dining nearby.
Robbie routed us through the Nsefo sector of the South Luangwa, which is the only part of the Park on the eastern part of the river. Nsefo means eland apparently.
We pedaled alongside a never-ending vlei line watched by a solitary bull elephant and a small herd of zebra, disturbing large flocks of crowned crane. A massive herd of belligerent buffalo allowed us to use them as a backdrop for a photo session. Robbie apologized for not being able to show us the lion that was around, well-fed lions judging by all the bones they’ve left lying around. I am very happy to forgive him.
Robbie had us ride through a massive forest of cathedral mopane, via a salt spring bubbling out of the ground in the middle of the vlei. The water was almost too hot to touch, certainly too hot for the animals to drink, and way too salty. Although the grass was loving it, and ditto the waterbirds. I wish I could have lurked in the hot waters like a hippo for a while but alas, time did not allow.
Today was my Eureka day. Eureka days happen on every Tour, normally between Day 5 and Day 10, when I realize that despite my sore bottom and aching legs, there is nothing I would rather be doing than enjoying adventures on new roads less travelled on my bike with best friends.
And then we hit the bloody sand. Deep sand is a four-letter word on a bike and turns 20 kilometers into 50. I am particularly crap at riding in sand and am able to fall off often.
With impeccable timing, Jaime was able to fall off her bike in thick sand right in front of a Landcruiser full of tourists, eroding all of our street cred, and leaving me with no option but to also fall off, on account of the fact it is impossible to navigate thick sand on a bike whilst laughing.
Even worse though, I was trapped under my bike like an upside-down rhino beetle with my right foot still stuck in my cleat. The tourists thought we were mad and highly unlikely to make it to Uganda.
Despite the fact that there isn’t much deep sand on the German autobahns to practice falling off in, CJ quickly got the hang of it. I think she could also be a natural.
Al rode with a patch over 1 eye today as per instructions from my eye doctor. Because we are both optically challenged, we thought it would be fitting if we blundered together at the back of the peloton for the day. He said he would keep his eye on me and vice versa. It worked well. We are like a pair of binoculars. Al’s left eye works, as does my right one. I just wish the one-eyed bastard would stop calling me Cyclops.
Yesterday we burst through the $116,000 barrier in terms of funds raised. And with nearly 2000 kilometers in front of us, we are hoping we can smash the 200 K barrier. We are riding 3000 kilometers to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners.
Wish us luck on today’s leg, 93 kilometers through the Luambe National Park, with the promise of sand, tsetse flies, and angry elephants.
Until my next blog from another bush camp in the middle of nowhere, stay safe, enjoy and pedal if you can.
Eric Chicken Legs de Jong.
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
If you are already a ZANE donor, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you are not a donor but would like to be, please follow the link below and know that every donation, however big or small, goes directly to where it is most needed. If you would like to help but can’t donate, please join the ZANE family and ‘like’ or ‘share’ our posts or write us a Google review – every positive step helps spread the word about the life changing work ZANE does.
Thank you – Nicky Passaportis ZANE Australia
Please donate to support pensioners struggling to survive in Zimbabwe
Any assistance is greatly appreciated and goes a long way to giving our pensioners a better quality of life and lift the pressure of money worries which is very debilitating emotionally.
(Donations made to ZANE in Australia, are tax-deductible)
Day 11 of the Old Legs Silverback Tour – From Kalovia Camp on the Luangwa River to the middle of nowhere.
Distance- 98 km
Climb – 223 m
Time – 9 hr 39 min
Ave Heart Rate – 105 bpm
Max Heart Rate – 169 bpm
As mentioned in previous blogs, Zambians are quite the nicest people. And they are finding us to be a primetime novelty, better than the Kardashians. Children come boiling out of every village in their multitudes to greet us and to cheer us on.
Today we were called Bwana for the first time, normally we’re referred to as Mazungu. Understanding Bwana to be Swahili, the optimist in me thought we somehow fast-forwarded to Tanzania, but alas, it turns out Bwana also features in the Zambian language, and Tanzania is still far away.
Every now and then, amongst the multitude, one of the kids will try his hand at begging, normally for empty plastic bottles, and occasionally for a ballpoint pen. Plastic bottles are valued because you can carry water to school in them.
Normally we ignore begging, but I so wish we’d left Harare with boxes of freebie pens to hand out. Christmas morning under the tree with kids happy to be gifted empty plastic bottles must be the best fun ever.
But in amongst the multitude of well-behaved kids, there is always the one naughty little shit who stands out, even in Zambia. Vicky and Russ encountered him today driving through a village. One little boy jumped into the road demanding sweeties. When he didn’t get any, he thieved three buckets off the back of the trailer as they drove passed.
Unfortunately for the little shit, one of the village elders saw him commit the crime, apprehended him, recovered the buckets, loaded them on his bicycle, and chased after Vicky and Russell for some kilometers to return them. Apparently, the little shit is unlikely to be able to sit for months to come.
Mostly we’ve ridden through wildlife areas including the iconic Luambe National Park, and huge swathes of absolutely pristine bush adjoining, with the emphasis on huge, interspersed with remote villages. And for remote, read nothing around them for hundreds of kilometers. And because the A105 is not an all-weather highway, the communities that live along it are cut off from the rest of the world for 5 months when the rains come.
And whilst on the subject of cut-off, there is a huge disconnect between Adam’s planned breakfast and lunch stops and my stomach. We eat our first breakfast before we start the ride, with breakfast number two normally planned for 3 hours after that, and lunch 2 hours after that.
But my hunger pangs work on Greenwich Mean Time and are two hours out of sync. For two days now, I’ve been looking for roadkill to fill the hunger gap, but unfortunately, squirrels scamper faster than I can ride.
We’re getting into some deep physics on the Old Legs Tour. The difference between morning and afternoon conditions is like night and day.
Without fail, every morning session to date has been benign with easy pedalling conditions, allowing us to just enjoy the scenery and the ride. But the afternoon sessions are another story, full of tsetse flies and deep sand, impossible to ride but easy to fall off in.
The only explanation that I have been able to come up with is that sand grains are social by nature and gather to enjoy the last warmth of the afternoon sun. Adam says I’ve spent too much time in the sun and am now addled.
This morning we encountered a riding surface almost as horrible as deep sand; black cotton soils heavily rutted with deep elephant footprints carried over from last rainy season. The resultant ride was bone-jarring and made an unpleasant change to riding through deep sand.
I am especially sorry for Alastair and Billy riding on hardtails. And for Russell who rode 20 km on Alistair’s bike. Suffice to say, as and when he has them, Russell’s children will be mixed up. Russell has developed a theory that soft tail bikes were invented by a man on a hardtail riding through black cotton soils, complete with elephant footprints.
We’ve become quite complacent about riding through elephant signs. The first elephant pooh we saw in the Zambezi Valley heightened our senses and had us riding on edge, panicking at every sound and movement in the bush around us. Fast forward 800 kilometers, and elephant pooh is either to be ramped or avoided, depending on whether it is hard or soft.
Mark Wilson got a very deserved Dick of the Day nomination for trying to photobomb a journey of giraffe. Since my whole life, I’ve thought 2 or more giraffes were a herd but learned today that the correct collective noun for giraffes is a journey. But I digress. We were riding through stunning bush and a journey of 7 magnificent giraffes stepped out to pose for us.
Billy was thrilled. His 15-year-old daughter Gigi back in California had begged him for a photo of a giraffe. He was just lining up to take Gigi’s photo when Mark decided the photo would be more authentic with a cyclist in the foreground. He spooked the giraffe and they haven’t stopped running since. As soon as I find the local SPCA branch, I’m going to report him.
Luckily I was able to spot a racket-tailed roller before Mark scared it off, ditto a huge flock of iridescent lovebirds. But we haven’t seen any shoebills yet, most probably because of Mark.
On any given day that sort of behavior would guarantee Dick of the Day, but Laurie was able to pip Mark at the post when he discovered a shortcut that would allow him, Adam, Jaime, and Fi to avoid a section of deep sand.
Unfortunately, Laurie’s shortcut took them off the radar, allowing them to explore the previously unexplored African hinterland for 40 minutes, causing much angst and anxiety. His shortcut also added an extra 10 kilometers on to the leg. But because it avoided the sand, the intrepid explorers said it was worth it.
Yesterday Jaime was able to erode the Old Legs street cred by falling off in front of a tourist vehicle. Today I was able to further deplete our meager remaining stocks by ploughing headfirst and unprovoked into a sandbank, barely a meter in front of a guy on a buffalo bike who had tucked in behind me. But for some amazing evasive tactics, the Zambian would have run over my head. Judging by his eye-rolling, he seriously doubts we’ll make it to Uganda.
I emerged from the accident unscathed, apart from my mortally wounded pride, a mortally wounded knee, and I also bust my rearview mirror.
Karma is a bitch. After struggling through almost 9 hours and 90 kilometers of non-stop sand, I arrived in camp knackered and started on my designated camp chore, digging toilet holes, in near solid granite. Thank you, universe, for not a lot.
Until my next blog from a bush camp opposite the North Luangwa National Park, stay safe by avoiding the sand.
Eric Chicken Legs de Jong.
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
If you are already a ZANE donor, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you are not a donor but would like to be, please follow the link below and know that every donation, however big or small, goes directly to where it is most needed. If you would like to help but can’t donate, please join the ZANE family and ‘like’ or ‘share’ our posts or write us a Google review – every positive step helps spread the word about the life changing work ZANE does.
Thank you – Nicky Passaportis ZANE Australia
Please donate to support pensioners struggling to survive in Zimbabwe
Any assistance is greatly appreciated and goes a long way to giving our pensioners a better quality of life and lift the pressure of money worries which is very debilitating emotionally.
(Donations made to ZANE in Australia, are tax-deductible)