01 June 2023 – Day Six of the Old Legs Zanzibar Tour – Balaka to Kingfisher Inn Mangochi for our first rest day. Yippee.
Distance – 96 kilometers
Total ascent – 377 meters.
Time – 6 hours 46 minutes
Av heart rate – 110 bpm
Max heart rate – 162 bpm
Max temp – 35 degrees a.k.a. bloody hot.
I’m blogging to you from the shores of Lake Malawi. Jenny and I honeymooned here a lifetime ago. Mostly she wore a very fetching leopard-skin bikini. I offered to buy her a brand-new bikini for this trip. Because there are women and children out there reading this blog, I can’t repeat what she said.
I pedalled 714 km to get here this time and would happily have pedalled more. I love this place. It is so very laid back. We are staying at the Kingfisher Inn and hosts Paul and Stacey Kennedy could not have made us feel more at home. Paul even borrowed me his dog briefly.
And in a huge bonus, I have just seen my first Verreaux’s Eagle Owl who thought he was a Ground hornbill but his pink eyelids were a give away. I also saw my first Bohm’s Bee-eater and my second Collared Palm Thrush, so all is good in my world, apart from some sore bits, including my bottom which commenced bleating on Day 3.
But I take great consolation from the fact that my bottom has to feel better than the bottom belonging to the exhibitionist known as Al Watermeyer. The paparazzi are ever present on Tour and what goes on Tour, also goes on social media. Apologies to the aforementioned women and children.
Al still has another 2200 kilometers that he has to do on his bottom. Cedric the Medic will monitor it closely going forward, unless of course Cedric the Medic runs away.
I have taken some flak of late for not listening to my body. But if I did, I wouldn’t leave the comfort of my couch. My body has been known to be a lazy bugger and needs pushing and prodding. I’d rather take my lead from Spanish cycling great Alberto Contador who famously used to tell his legs to shut up.
My sore bottom is set for a joyous reunion with my old saddle. I have swapped out my skinny-arsed racing saddle for the armchair saddle I lolled about on all the way to Uganda, the Skeleton Coast, etc. It is a bike saddle you could fall asleep on while watching television. It is to aerodynamic what Trump is to modest. My bottom is actually looking forward to getting out and about, although I’m not sure how well that reads.
We rode on a dirt road out of Balaka, away from the bloody trucks. Finally, a road less travelled. We passed just 1 car in the first two hours. We also passed 4027 bicycles.
People don’t ride bicycles for exercise in Malawi. Bicycles are strictly commercial transport here, used to ferry livestock, goods and passengers. Cedric saw a trucker transporting 4 live pigs on his bike. The biggest load I’ve seen on this trip is 5 x 30 kg bags of charcoal a.k.a. 150 kg of dead weight. The rider weighed 70 kgs max. How many watts could he put out on a carbon fiber bike? Move over Primoz Roglic.
The loads on the back of the bikes on the dirt road were smaller, 3 bags of charcoal max, but the bike truckers worked twice as hard. And how they don’t crash on skinny tyres in the sand I do not know.
The taxi bikes are more blinged up than the trucker bikes, with cushioned carriers and decorative ribbons for ambience. The 5-star bikes have foot rests and handles to grab in sheer panic. We had a poor unfortunate taxi driver crash and burn right in front of us. His even more poor unfortunate fare-paying passenger made a spectacular seventeen point landing and emerged from the dust cloud swinging and swearing. Prone to crashing and burning myself, l empathized with the poor chap, but laughed nonetheless.
We rode into Mangochi through the remnants of a forest of fever trees, left overs from before charcoal became the curse that it is, plus coconut trees and Ilala palms, and baobab trees everywhere. More than a few of the baobabs look to have been recently uprooted, courtesy of Cyclone Freddy I think.
Of concern on health front is the virus steadily marching through the peloton. We have named the virus Clem after the rider who first introduced it and who shall otherwise remain nameless. Jenny and Angus are currently man down with Clem and Vicky and Kim look set to follow.
Rest days are the absolute best muti for all ailments. We enjoyed pink-drink sundowner cocktails and celebrated our achievements thus far. A large contingent of local Zimbabweans joined us for a beer and gave us a generous reward donation for the Old Legs Medical Fund. Thank you and God bless.
Tomorrow we ride back into Mozambique, plunging into the great unknown that is the Niassa Province. Please follow our progress on https://ezytrack.telematics.guru/…/8bcc979e8b444469afa5… even though we ride slow like paint dries. We are riding to Zanzibar to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners.
Until my next blog from the middle of nowhere Mozambique, have fun, do good and do epic 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)
03 June 2023 – Day Eight of the Old Legs Zanzibar Tour – Mangochi to a football pitch 40 km past Mandimba, Mozambique.
Distance – 96 kilometers
Total ascent – 1467 meters.dwe we p I
Time – 8 hours 14 minutes
Av heart rate – 129 bpm
Max heart rate – 190 bpm
Max temp – 43 degrees a.k.a. as hot as Hades.
I am blogging to you from a football pitch 19 kilometers from the Mozambique town of Massangulo. We attracted a huge audience when we set up camp. At first I worried they might be football hooligans but all good. Entertainment wise, we are as good as it gets in these parts.
Today’s blog has to be all about the escarpment we climbed to get off the Rift Valley floor. I quite like hills, but after the first hour, like becomes dislike. I disliked this particular climb for hours, but already am now remembering it fondly. Sure, we’ve ridden up higher and steeper hills before, but I don’t know if we’ve ridden up longer. The climb was 25 kilometers non-stop, with an av gradient of between 5 and 6 percent.
It was one of those annoying climbs with forever views that are breathtaking on the way up, you make the easy decision to save your photos for the very top, but then when eventually you get to the very top, there are no views.
It was 43 degrees hot according to Angus’s Garmin but God laid on another refreshing head wind to cool us down. This headwind was that strong I enjoyed the summit 3 times.
I saw my first wildlife on Tour on the climb, a troop of baboons. They were magnificent specimens, albeit quite lanky with reaches like gibbons. They were quite habituated and in your face.
I was alerted to the presence of baboons by their droppings in the road, unless the droppings belonged to a bike trucker descending with 3 bags of charcoal on the back of his bike and no brakes. I saw the poor chap hurtling down the mountains at breakneck speeds, using his feet like Fred Flinstone brakes.
We crossed back into Mozambique today. The Malawian border town of Chiponde was crazy busy chaotic. The no man’s land after exiting Malawi was just plain weird, 2 or 3 kilometers on the tattiest dirt road and through a muddy river crossing with zero signage, zero anything, before literally bumping into the Mozambique
border post.
After our 8 hour holdup at Nyamapanda, we were dreading Round Two with Mozambique Immigration, but it was easy peasy, 30 minutes and we were all through.
I’ve been dreading this part of Mozambique, expecting the worst but with fingers crossed I’ll be pleasantly surprised. And so far, so good. From what little we’ve seen, the road infrastructure is first class, well constructed and well maintained, far much better than anything we have in Zimbabwe, ditto the cellphone coverage. Alas. I remember not so long ago when we felt sorry for the poor Mozambicans, but now their roadside markets are full of Gucci sandals.
We are able to attract big crowds here, with entire villages lining the roads to cheer us on as we pass. The roadsides in Mozambique are like Dutch corners on the Tour de France. Shame. I feel like we are ripping them off. After 5 hours in the saddle, the Old Legs Tour is not the most riveting of spectator sports.
Until my next blog from the town of Lichinga, have fun, do good, and do epic 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)
04 June 2023 – Day Nine of the Old Legs Zanzibar Tour – From our football pitch to Lichinga, Mozambique.
Distance – 115 kilometers
Total ascent – 1450 meters.
Time – 8 hours 59 minutes
Av heart rate – 134 bpm
Max heart rate – 181 bpm
Max temp – 32 degrees.
Today was tough. I rode on porridge legs today, the stodgy stuff that you used to hate at boarding school.
Unbeknownst to me, and also unbeknownst to the chick at Google Maps, I climbed unexpected hills all day today. My ignorance is easily explained by my inattention during briefings and by the fact that the chick from Google has never been near Mozambique since her life either. The climbs were attritional, 2 to 3 kilometers long with 5 to 6 % gradients, and relentless, one after the other after the other, with not nearly enough downhill bits between them.
But we know nothing about tough. We passed a steady stream of trucker bicycles headed into Lichinga, mostly carrying loads of charcoal and firewood. Al and I stopped to help a chap who’d lost his load of charcoal. He was carrying 2 huge bags, maybe 40 kilos each. Thank God he only had a 2 bag load, because I couldn’t have picked up 3 of them. Once he’d re-secured his load with an intricate system of twigs and lengths of rubber, we watched him set off towards Lichinga 20 kilometers distant, without a bicycle chain. He pushed his bike and load up to the top of hill, and then freewheeled down at breakneck speed to the next hill, and so on, and so on, and so on. My guess is he only got into town in the middle of the night, and all to earn 300 Metical a.k.a 3 dollars.
Likewise, Clem stopped to help a firewood delivery guy push his bike up a hill, so he could be dragged down the hill behind it. Firewood delivery guys do it even more tough, overloading their bikes to the point where you can’t even see their saddles, let alone sit on them. Those guys know all about tough.
This Niassa Province has a vastness to it, stretching away for ever into the distance. From what we’ve seen so far, all the habitation is strictly along the road with zero settlements inland. In a hundred kilometers of main road, I didn’t see a single turnoff.
The people in Mozambique are nice, less in your face than in Malawi, and their cheering is more polite, less boisterous. At least we think they’re cheering us. The language barrier is a big thing in these parts with not even a smattering of English to be had. A bunch of kids called me a balaka. At least that is what it sounded like. I don’t know if a balaka is a good thing.
At our soccer pitch night stop, as always we attracted a big crowd, maybe a hundred plus. It was a full on pitch invasion. But I didn’t see any sad, crying or unhappy kids, not a single one. How can people with so little be so happy?
I not sure how people around here earn their livings. We saw zero agriculture for 45 km, bar a half dozen scraggly lines of roadside sweet potatoes, and goats, but for the rest, nothing, no maize, no vegetables, no cattle, not even chickens.
Much later in the day we saw 2 blocks of maize, one of them on top of a granite Kopje for some reason.
We also rode alongside the finest thatching grass all day. And yet every hut we saw was tatty and threadbare, and for sure would leak in the rains. I think the only legacy left behind by the Portuguese is the ability to snooze after lunch.
And the lack of farming has nothing to do with the climate. We rode through prime farm land with rich fertile soils. Rafe described it as Doma on steroids, and later after some many hills, as Nyanga also on steroids.
We’ve ended up at 1400 meters above sea level. There is quite some forestry going on, mostly pine. We stopped to check out a block of pine that was being commercially tapped for the resin. George tasted the resin and said it tasted like turpentine. Personally I was prepared to leave that question unanswered.
We bumped into a troop of baboons in the pine forest. As compared to their Malawian colleagues, they were handsome beasts, and stood very tall. They were much lighter than the baboons back home.
What a small world we live in, unless you’re a dwarf. For months we’ve been communicating with Dr Peg Cumberland about the best routes through northern Niassa. Dr Peg is a medical doctor who lived in Cobue for years, and also an avid cyclist. NB Google reliably informed me that Peg was awarded an MBE for her humanitarian work in Mozambique, but she would never share that with you. We were bummed when Peg told us she was transferring out of Cobue and would not be able to ride with us. Turns out she was transferred to Lichinga and we bumped into her on the road, literally. We invited Peg to join us for dinner, and for the ride out of Lichinga.
In closing, I’d like to introduce you to some of the people I am enjoying my best adventure with. Angus Melrose is the ride captain, in charge of cat herding. He is one of those unflappable chaps and has clearly read Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘If’ -especially the bit about keeping your head when people around you are losing theirs. He is very strong on a bike and the sound of his booming laughter is never far away. And I worked out today that if you pronounce Angus with a silent G, you get Anus. English can be a cruel language, but it served to amuse briefly between hills.
We are riding to Zanzibar to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. Please be invited to join us on Facebook and also on www.oldlegstour.com. Please also follow the donate prompts.
Until my next blog from Metangula on Lake Niassa a.k.a. Lake Malawi, have fun, do good and do epic 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)