169 Thailand (22) - Exploring the Central Plains

169 Thailand (22)
9 January – 20 January 2024
1 377 Kilometres – 22 Days

PHOTOS
MAP

9 January - Jomtien – Bang Saen Beach – 83 km

It was already past midday when I finally set out, and I was determined to stick to rural roads and avoid the chaotic traffic that plagues the route between Pattaya and Bangkok. Despite the challenges, I navigated my way through the winding roads until I finally arrived at the tranquil Bang Saen Beach in Chon Buri. The sense of relief was palpable as I found a comfortable $10 room and settled in for the night, feeling as happy as the proverbial pig.

As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, I walked the short distance of less than 200 meters to the beach. I sat on the sand, feeling the warmth of the grains between my toes and the gentle breeze of the sea on my skin. The colours of the sky changed with each passing moment, creating a breathtaking spectacle that left me feeling blessed and privileged to be back on the road.

10 January – Bang Saen Beach – Chachoengsao – 65 km

The first 30 kilometres of the ride ran along a scenic part of the Gulf of Thailand partly via a road built over the ocean. The Northern Gulf of Thailand is shallow, with abundant birdlife and fishing opportunities. Afterwards, I veered inland along the Bang Pakong River but couldn't find country lanes, which is a rarity in Thailand.

Interestingly, authorities have persuaded fishermen on the Bang Pakong River to stop shrimping to protect the Irrawaddy dolphins, and 30 to 40 fishing boats have been modified to offer dolphin sightseeing tours. I was hoping to find a path along the river, but it never happened, and I never saw the dolphins.

Heavy traffic made cycling unpleasant, so I called it a day in Chachoengsao. I found an inexpensive room and needed to look at the map more closely.

My early arrival allowed me to explore the area, including the 100-year-old Banmai Market. Nowadays, the market is only a weekend market, but traders live inside this ancient riverside complex. The light was beautiful. Back in my room, it was time to do the dreaded laundry.

 

11 January - Chachoengsao – Amphoe Nong Khae, Saraburi – 110 km

From Chachoengsao, it was a much better day of cycling as I had plenty of rural roads to choose from. It was an absolute pleasure to pedal past rice paddies and tiny hamlets.

At one point, I picked up a red cloth, which I thought of using as a flag, but it was too large, and I tied it to the rear rack, hoping it would make me more visible. For most of the day, my chosen path ran alongside a canal until, after 110 kilometres, it spat me out at a busy intersection where I decided to end my ride. I was surprised to find a fancy room for only $14! Hahaha, or as fancy as a $14 room can be.

 

12 &13 January - Nong Khae – Lopburi – 80 km

I took far too many pictures during the ride to Lopburi. It was a brilliant ride, partly along the railway line and partly next to a canal. Lopburi is an ancient town filled with old ruins that are all within easy walking distance. Nowadays, the old city is home to ordinary Thai life and a group of monkeys, who even have a temple of their own.

I'm glad that I arrived early as it was pretty warm (35°C). The $10 room that I rented wasn't very fancy, but it had a fan, which was good enough for me. I felt like all I did was eat since I arrived, but there are so many good food options in Lopburi.

There's much to see in Lopburi and I decided to stay one more day. The windows of my room couldn’t open, as the monkeys were notorious for breaking into rooms through the windows despite having bars on them. They can be quite a menace. The rest of the day was spent exploring the ruins of Lopburi.

 

14 January – Lopburi – Khok Mai Den – 110 km

Not much happened en route to Khok Mai Den. I again followed a canal, or maybe it was a river, meaning there were many luminous green rice paddies and people fishing. I must have been way off the beaten track as I encountered very few villages. I loved the ride and felt energetic and happy to be out there. What a privilege.

Of course, there’s always the ever-present Buddhist temple with its bright yellow Dharma flags blowing in the wind. These temples make peaceful and convenient stopping places, offering plenty of shade. Eventually, after 110 kilometres, I veered towards the highway to find food and accommodation.

At my accommodation I realised you'll hardly ever find a bed in Asia facing the door as it's the worst possible position, according to feng shui principles. People who practice feng shui call it the ‘dead man’s position’ or the ‘coffin position’ because it resembles how we carry the dead through the door.

I was well into the Thai lifestyle and ordered a takeaway from 7-Eleven. Delivery is free, and even with a good tip, I still considered it a bargain as I didn't feel like getting on the bike to cycle the two kilometres to the shop in darkness.

 

15 January – Khok Mai den – Nakhon Savan (Anodard Hotel) 53 km

I dawdled and didn't leave my comfortable bungalow until past nine in the morning.

My first destination for the day was the Khok Mai Den Ancient City ruins, located just two kilometres away. The city was founded between 457 and 957 AD during the Thawarawadi period. I parked my bike at the temple and walked to the top of the hill to explore the ruins. Upon my return, I found a bag hanging from my bike's handlebars containing rice and soup. The monk who left it gave me a Buddhist talisman as well. I expressed my gratitude and proceeded to a roadside shrine to eat the food, but I couldn't stomach the soup, which was a watery broth with bird-like chunks.

From the ruins, I followed the Chao Phraya River upstream to its origin at the confluence of the Ping and Nan rivers in Nakhon Sawan. From here, the river flows 372 kilometres south to the Gulf of Thailand, and the surroundings are mostly farmland with small villages. The fried banana snack is a popular treat in these hamlets, and petrol is sold in Coca-Cola bottles from hole-in-the-wall shops. Although most rice farming is still done manually, I saw farmers using drones to spread either seeds or fertiliser, but I couldn't determine which one.

 

16 January - Nakhon Savan - Tha Makhuea – 92 km

Biking out of Nakhon Savan was amidst heavy traffic and workers installing decorations for the upcoming Chinese New Year festivities. A path next to the Ping River took me north through small riverside villages. I passed by sleeping cats and dogs and chickens pecking in the dirt. Women were selling goods on their bicycles, and I could hear monks chanting at colourful temples. The ride was easy, and the kilometres flew by quickly.

At my many water stops, people would shyly ask, "Where are you from?" and I would respond, "Africa Thai" (one of the few Thai words I know). They would usually exclaim, "Oh, you speak Thai!" The next question was generally about my destination, but as I was not sure where I was headed, I replied with the name of the next big town, to which they would always ask, "By bicycle?" LOL. Eventually, they would ask, "Only one?" My answer usually ended the conversation as a woman travelling alone by bicycle isn't something rural Thai people seem to understand.

 

17-18 January - Tha Makhuea – Kamphaeng Phet – 56 km

The way to Kamphaeng Phet was along a busy road with large trucks carrying sugarcane to the mill, and the road surface was littered with sugarcane stalks.

My visit to Kamphaeng Phet was to explore its UNESCO World Heritage Site, which features ruins of structures dating to the 14th century, roughly the same time as the better-known kingdom of Sukhothai, a bit further north. Three J Guesthouse offers cute wooden bungalows at 350 THB. The guesthouse has a friendly owner and heaps of information, and is set in a jumble of arty nooks and crannies. Due to the short distance, I arrived early, but it was already 4 pm before I put my laundry in the machine and went to the famous Heritage Park. Unfortunately, it was too late to explore, but I snapped a few pictures before they closed the gates.

The following morning, I explored Kamphaeng Phet by bicycle, a vast area of ancient ruins, trees, and shade - what a delightful experience!

 

19 - 20 January – Kamphaeng Phet – Sukhothai – 85 km

From Kamphaeng Phet, I again opted for a rural path that ran past rice, banana, corn and sugarcane plantations. The weather was perfect, and I biked along, hardly stopping as the going was super easy.

 

Thailand's central region is a fertile plain that provides easy cycling. It's also the birthplace of the culture and language that defines Thailand today. Sukhothai is, therefore, immensely touristy, and a budget room came at 400 THB. Once booked in, I realised my wallet was nowhere to be found! I have two wallets, one containing my day money, which is in my handlebar bag and the other holding my bank cards and remaining cash. At my destination, there was no sign of my main wallet! I freaked right there and then! It doesn't matter how much money you have, without access to it you have nothing!

 

I contacted my sister, Amanda: Please send money! But even that would take at least 24 hours. Adding that I couldn't access my Thai bank app, made my stress levels go through the roof! Many hours later, I had money in my wallet, and I hoped the money transfers would show the next day. Phew! What a day! Thanks to Vitoonguesthouse2Fanroom, who allowed me to book in without paying - it is much appreciated!

An additional day was spent in Sukhothai as I waited for the money transferred to show in my bank account and to investigate the area. Sukhothai was the capital of the first Kingdom of Siam in the 13th and 14th centuries, and the area has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The old walled city is home to some of the most well-preserved and impressive ruins I've seen in Thailand. A delightful day was spent cycling the outlying area. The park is open until 8 pm, and as I was staying across the road, I walked to the nearby temples. The park was much nicer to explore at sunset than in the midday heat.

 

21 January – Sukhothai – Phitsanulok 78 km

From Sukhothai, a 78-kilometre ride took me to Phitsanulok. The route was relatively uneventful, but I was fortunate to find a bike lane along the main road. With the wind at my back, I made good progress and arrived in Phitsanulok early.

 

I was surprised by the town, mainly because it reminded me of India. The old town, with its famous Buddha and charming historical structures, also gave me an Indian vibe.

 

My accommodation was quite intriguing, as it was bounded by the highway, the railway line, and a mosque! Although immensely central, I thought it best to walk to the nearest 7-Eleven to buy a two-pack, as I didn’t think I would get much sleep. LOL.

 

22 January – Phitsanulok – Taphan Hin – 100 km

I was pleasantly surprised by the comfort of my hotel despite the muezzin's call. I didn't hear the muezzin but woke to the hustle and bustle of the street below (it must have been that two-pack - LOL).

After a breakfast of coffee, fried dough, bananas, and biscuits (included in the room rate), I nervously attempted to cross the busy Main Road and I must have made such a spectacle that cars stopped allowing me to pass. I continued south along the Nan River, passing temples and people living on barges. The weather was pleasant, and most rice paddies were still green, as they were near the river and not dependent on rain.

After 100 kilometres, and spotting the New Hua Hin Hotel (which wasn't new, not even by any stretch of the imagination), I decided to call it a day. The small village was bustling as food vendors set up their stalls. After a quick shower, I barely had to walk 100 metres to find a delicious noodle dish. It was such a novelty that I opted for a takeaway.

 

23 January - Taphan Hin – Tha Tako – 98 km

The morning market was already in full swing on departing the (not-so-new) New Hua Hin Hotel. I continued south along the river, passing the, by now, familiar small villages and bright green rice paddies.

Around noon, I decided to change my route and head east instead of going through Bangkok. However, I soon realised I needed to withdraw more cash, but Miss Smarty Pants' decision to cancel her Bangkok Bank card meant I couldn't make a cardless withdrawal. The word “fuck” left my mouth with alarming frequency! Fortunately, I had just about enough money for a room and food. Still, I desperately needed to stop at the nearest Bangkok Bank, 55 kilometres to the south, first thing in the morning. The drama was never-ending!

 

24 January - Tha Tako- Nakhon Sawan – 48 km

By morning, I blitzed the 50 kilometres to Nakhon Sawan, where I came to a screeching halt in front of Bangkok Bank. Not much later, I walked out with money and a new bank card in my wallet. Phew!

I was so relieved that I booked into a nearby hotel and walked to the mall. My wandering took me through the city park, a massive area with bike and walking lanes, as well as basketball and volleyball courts. I love new destinations where everything is unfamiliar, and I can't understand the language. The city was buzzing with preparations for the Year of the Dragon celebrations, and red lanterns and dragons were everywhere.

 

25 January – Nakhon Sawan - Chai Nat – 92 km

If I followed the main road, the day’s distance would have been 62 kilometres, and if I followed the route suggested by Organic Maps, it would have been 72 kilometres. Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I again followed the river, and a winding river it was. The little settlements I encountered were old-worldly, and wooden shophouses lined the path. I loved it. The Chao Phraya River is one of the main rivers in Thailand and, like any other important waterway, it comes with an ancient history. It’s a place where the temples are old and the boats long!

There was no need to stop in Chai Nat, but it looked like a sizable town with inexpensive accommodation.

 

26 January – Chat Nai - Ang Thong – 100 km

The next morning, I followed the route indicated by Organic Maps for about five kilometres before veering off onto a smaller path. What a delight to make my way through these tiny hamlets where cats, dogs and water monitors lay sleeping on the road. One can easily assume they are dead. I tried to make a noise to warn them I’m coming, but their eyelids or ears only flickered.

I dragged my heels a tad, and it must have been near 4 pm when I arrived in Ang Thong. Shortly before the town, I stopped at Wat Sukkasem Thammikaram, a 130-year-old temple home to a 38.9-metre-high statue of Phra Siwali Mahalap. The statue can be seen from many kilometres away. According to ancient belief, Phra Siwali Mahalap brings good fortune and lottery results. Hence, villagers flock here to pay homage and ask for blessings by offering honey, fresh fruit, and white or fragrant flowers. The honey may have something to do with the swarm of bees that annually nest under the arm of the statue, and hundreds of people visit the temple during that time.

Finding inexpensive accommodation was easy, and I soon spotted the popular budget Ang Thong hotel. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower - as I have often said: a shower is never overrated. Afterwards, I washed my cycling clothes in the wastepaper bin, and I’m sure they never had such a clean bin. Then, I could finally walk to the 7-Eleven for my evening beer and portion of vegetarian fried rice.

 

27-28 January – Ang Thong – Ayutthaya - 65 km

I had no intention of going to Ayutthaya but ended up there anyway. Again, the way was mainly along a canal dotted by typical Thai-style timber homes on stilts and, of course, numerous temples, one more ornate than the other.

In Ayutthaya, I cycled to the train station thinking of taking a train into Bangkok, but there was a two-hour wait for the train and, instead, I sought out my old favourite Baan Lotus Guesthouse, a converted old schoolhouse. I felt tired and only walked to the shop for food and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon.

 

29-30 January – Ayutthaya – Bangkok – 85 km

Although I wasn't feeling up to it, I decided to cycle the 85 kilometres to Bangkok. Luckily, it was Sunday and the traffic light. However, cycling into a city with a population of 11 million can be pretty nerve-wracking. I was relieved to finally arrive at my destination, but I chose to take the train from Bangkok to Pattaya as I had cycled that route too many times before and wasn't in the mood for the traffic.

I slept so well that I woke up too late to catch the train, but it wasn't a big deal since I enjoy spending time in Bangkok.

 

31 January – Bangkok – Pattaya 15 km (by train)

The previous evening, I made sure the alarm was set and I cycled the five kilometres to the train station in the dark. I was nervous because I wasn't sure if drivers could see me.

Getting the bicycle onto the train was challenging since the door was relatively narrow, and it required careful manoeuvring to get the bike into the coach. Three hours later, it took the same effort to get off at Pattaya station.

Once I arrived at my room, the washing machine worked overtime, and I cleaned the bike bags so they would be ready for use after mid-March. I'm wondering which route I should take next, as there are many exciting destinations.

166 THAILAND - A RIDE ALONG THE SOUTH COAST

166 THAILAND - A RIDE ALONG THE SOUTH COAST

20 February – 26 February 2023

358 Kilometres - 6 Days

PHOTOS 

20 February - Pattaya – Rayong – 78 km

It was “take two”! Early in the morning, my panniers were packed and ready, but I wasn’t heading to India as intended last November. Instead, I planned to do a short meander around Thailand as my friend Dawn arrived on the 27th. The main aim was to ensure the bike and equipment were in good condition and working order.

Although keen to get going, it was almost midday when I cycled out of Sodom and Gomorrah. In no time at all, I found myself on rural roads past cassava plantations with elephants grazing in the far distance, colourful temples, and Buddha statues. Then, up and over Big Buddha Mountain, still grinning from ear to ear.

By the time I pedalled into Rayong, I could feel I’d spent the best part of the day on the bike and called it a day at Richy Grand. Situated in the Chinese quarters, the guesthouse is well-located close to the night market. One should never go to the night market hungry!

 

21 February - Rayong – Pak Nam Krasae – 70 km

It was almost ten before I biked out of Rayong, and it was an immense pleasure to find myself upon a minor road past grazing cattle and through tiny settlements with brightly coloured homes—places where almost everything is peddled from motorbikes with sidecars. I’m sure Thailand is the only place in the world where a BBQ is allowed next to a petrol tank.

Soon my chosen route spat me out flush next to the coast on a road sporting a bike lane. The slight breeze was refreshing in the midday heat. At one of these communities, I met a Hungarian chap who has been living in Thailand for the past 40 years, and he invited me for a cold drink. How kind of him. Refreshed, I ambled over large rivers and past mangrove swamps until crossing the Prasae Sin Bridge. Here I spotted an authentic-looking village along the banks of the river. Turning in, only a few foreigners appeared to visit Pah Nam Krassae, as no English was spoken. I love places like that! However, it isn’t rocket science to explain that you’re looking for a place to sleep, and soon I was comfortably ensconced in a lovely room with air-con and hot water. At first, I thought finding food would be more problematic, but everyone understood “mangsawirat” (vegetarian) and “khaw phad” (fried rice). I had so much time I even rinsed my clothes!

 

22 February – Pak Nam Krasae – Chanthaburi – 75 km

Twenty kilometres after leaving, I stopped at a 7-Eleven for food, after which I continued along the coastal route. I love that a cycle lane ran almost the entire way to Chanthaburi. It was easy riding and a pleasure to be out on the bike. Once in Chanthaburi, I opted for the old quarters along the river, allowing plenty of time to stroll along the river, find food and relax.

 

23 February - Chanthaburi – Roadside guesthouse - 65 km

After umming and ahhing whether to stay in Chantaburi an additional day, I eventually saddled up and slowly started the return trip to Jomtien. The ride was pleasant, and the going easy. On spotting a three hundred THB room, I called it quits as finding inexpensive accommodation isn’t easy along the coast. My 40 THB meal of fried noodles was so much I couldn’t finish it.

 

24 February – Roadside Guesthouse – Rayong – 75 km

I took a different route, which was easy as there were hundreds of more minor roads. In fact, I don’t think I could find my original way even if I tried. The South Coast is relatively flat and, in places, resembles an estuary or delta. Thus, I crossed many rivers where fishing appeared as the main occupation. Back in Rayong, I cycled straight to Richy Grant as rooms were only 300THB and a place where one could wheel the bike right in, add a nearby night market, and it was a winner.

 

25 February - Rayong – Jomtien – 70 km

I zig-zagged through the countryside along farm roads, which always makes for an enjoyable day out. Little happened, as I was in the area only a few days prior. I thus didn’t stop and cycled back non-stop. It was somewhat of a stupid thing to do as I arrived starving and couldn’t wait to unlock the door and devour whatever was available.

Time to chuck the dirty laundry in the washing machine, shower and relax.

I was pleased with my little Tour d’South; although my arms are not 100%, they held up well (if I kept the distances short). Hopefully, my arms will be much stronger when I leave on the next trip around the end of April.

 

26 February Jomtien

Sorting out photos kept me busy the entire morning, and soon it was midday and time to collect the key to Dawn’s apartment. In the process, I had a beer with Karen and friends and was thus useless for the rest of the afternoon.

 

27 February – Jomtien

Seeing I had a day of rest the previous day, I donned the running shoes for an eight km jog along the beachfront. Returning dripping with perspiration, I first swept the floor and put the bedding in the washing machine before jumping in the pool for my daily kilometre swim. Funny how swimming always feels energising. Then back in front of the computer to sort out the last photos. Staving, I fried an egg, not something I often do as I think it’s too much trouble washing a pan. LOL. I must’ve been ravenous.

 

165 A DISASTROUS 2022

RECOVERY THAILAND
July 2022 – January 2023

 PHOTOS

 

9 July – Jomtien

Bouncing out of bed on a heavily overcast morning had nothing to do with my agility but rather the sing-along music playing. Music that made a person want to punch the air, exclaiming, “let’s go, baby”! Thus, Dire Straits was still blaring in my ears as I set off to the beach at a brisk pace. Unfortunately, the euphoria was short-lived, as I’d become rather unfit during the past six weeks. Having no running shoes, my old sandals had to do, and running in sandals isn’t all comfortable. Still, it was a pleasant walk, and the threatening rain never materialised. People were surprised to see me back in Jomtien, but so was I.  Returning, I picked up a bunch of bananas from my favourite fruit lady before heading into town to hunt for running shoes. Unfortunately, I scarcely made it to Beach Road before a storm broke. The weather came down with such force that it brought trees and electric poles down. The 7-eleven made an excellent place to hide from where a cab took me home—no point shopping in such weather.

 

10 July – Jomtien

Mundane tasks in a house or apartment take up much time. May it be sweeping, dusting, making a bed or doing dishes. These are actions not required when cycling. What a complete waste of time, as these jobs are never-ending. Thus, none of the above got done, and I lazily made coffee - left the mug on the coffee table and showered without picking up the towel. Instead, I listened to peaceful Reiki music said to increase positive energy. It was wonderfully relaxing, but still, no housework got done.

With my energy restored, I ventured to the mall, searching for new running/hiking shoes. Of course, it’s never an easy task finding such a combination. Still, I located a pair of trail running Hoka’s primarily designed for technical running and hoped they would be suitable for running.

 

11 July – Jomtien

By morning I keenly set out to test the new shoes. But, unfortunately, couldn’t say they were super comfortable as they were too narrow around the toe area. It’s so much easier to stick to shoes you know. Still, it wasn’t the end of the world, and I cut holes where the pressure points were.

Once home, it was back to finalising the last of the Malawian blog, as the longer I left it, the less I felt like doing it.

 

12 July – Jomtien

Early morning, I again set out for a jog. Being the rainy season, there weren’t many people on the beach. The umbrellas and chairs looked forlorn in the breeze, but still, stall owners were optimistic and put out tables, shrines and coconuts. The gentle breeze was a blessing as the weather remained hot and humid even though overcast.

Feeling surprisingly energetic, I pumped the bicycle tires and cautiously tested riding. Yes, it can be done, but it’s far from comfortable.

 

13 July

With nothing planned for the day, I cycled to the Lotus to test cycling and pick up a few things needed from the supermarket. Unfortunately, the hand remains uncomfortable, and I can’t see myself cycling any distance for a while.

Being Asalha Bucha day, a public holiday in Thailand, the streets and mall were quiet. This day, the first full moon of the eighth lunar month, commemorates the Buddha’s first sermon in Deer Park in Benares, India and the founding of the Buddhist sangha (monkhood) about 2,500 years ago. (The date in Thailand is thus 13 July 2565 BE)

In the sermon, known as ‘Setting the Wheel of Dhamma in Motion’, the Buddha first spelt out the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path.

 

July 2022 - February 2023

Eventually, my wrist healed, although it would never be 100%. But, at least I could cycle relatively easily using a wrist brace.

In the meantime, I had word from Dawn and was excited to learn she was planning on visiting Thailand. A fantastic month was spent eating, drinking, and doing other fun stuff. It was good to see my friend again.

After a month, Dawn returned to Australia, and I was excited to return to India. The Indian visa is an uncomplicated process, but the two wheel rims ordered took forever to arrive. Eventually, it took going to Bangkok myself, something that should’ve been done months ago, instead of waiting until the last minute. Finally, all was in place to leave for India. Sadly, while cycling back from the beach after taking a few sunset pictures, a scooter knocked me off the bicycle, resulting in two broken elbows.

To make a long story short, a week later, in early November 2022, I flew to South Africa. As can be imagined, I was mighty relieved to get off the chock-a-block plane. A visit to the hospital revealed what was already known. As in Thailand, doctors seemed more concerned about the fractured radial head, which I thought was my good arm. A CT scan was booked for 15 November (it’s a government hospital). Only after the scan will a decision be made. Both arms were again placed in a half cast (back slab), and there I thought I could sneak in a short jog. Unfortunately, it seems walking was my only option for a while.

All went smoothly, and I was mighty impressed with the medical service received. The dislocated elbow was realigned, and a metal plate and screws were fitted to hold the fractured olecranon together. The radial head couldn’t be repaired and was replaced with a metal piece. Finally, the ligaments around the elbow were repaired and reattached using a screw.

Phew, happy that’s behind me! I’m even more impressed that I’ve regained almost full motion and rotation barely six weeks after the operation. And to think all at US$30.00. Finally, my bags were packed, and I was ready to return to the tropics and my bike. Although I stayed with my sister, it remained less expensive in Thailand. Thanks, Amanda!

I could only hope 2023 would be kinder to me. Back in Thailand cycling remained, nonetheless, highly uncomfortable, but by changing the bike’s setup, it eventually became easier to ride the bike.

164 CYCLE TOURING MALAWI (2)

 

Shenanigans on a bike - By Leana Niemand

MALAWI
Km 650 – 55 Days
10 May – 4 July 2022

PHOTOS

 

 

10 May – Chipata, Zambia – Unknown village, Malawi – 87 km

The distance to the Zambia-Malawian border was scarcely 20 kilometres, and I crossed with no difficulty or PCR test. It simply took 20$ and I had my Covid test papers. Things sure work differently in Africa. Malawi is a tiny landlocked country stretching barely 840 km from north to south and varies in width from 10 to 160 km. I didn’t think I would need much time crisscrossing it as much of the country is taken up by Lake Malawi.

I’m always amazed by the abrupt change in scenery, food and culture after crossing a border. First, sugarcane was sold in abundance, and one hardly spotted anyone not chewing on a stalk. Soon, the potholes became more prominent and the villages and bicycles more frequent.

During the day, roadside stands sold grilled meat and chips. Stopping to purchase a portion of fries, the entire neighbourhood came to witness this unusual event. Kids in near hysterics called, “Azungu, azungu, azungu!” Azungu, also known as muzungu, mlungu, musungu or musongo, means “wanderer”, originally pertaining to spirits. (Maybe that’s why the kids are so fearful, especially when one is fair of skin.) The term currently refers to foreigners, not only Europeans. It’s very similar to farang, barang, and falang in Asia. It’s further uttered equally enthusiastically.

Midway to the capital Lilongwe, I called it quits on spotting what is known as a rest house. The place was rather basic, and I don’t think the walls had seen a lick of paint in years. The bedding was equally tattered, and it appeared washing bedding wasn’t a daily occurrence. However, as the rate was merely between 1.5 – 4 US$, I didn’t complain too much. I could shower when in Lilongwe.

 

11/12 May – Unknown rest house – Barefoot Lodge, Lilongwe – 45 km

I was up at the crack of dawn as not only did the cocks start crowing, but other guests started opening the squeaky doors to use the bathroom, which was a hole in the ground way back in the rear corner of the property. I thus emerged and felt like the main attraction as I lit my stove to boil water for coffee.

On departing, smoke from morning fires hung low over the villages as people made trips to and from the market, kids walked to school, and others stoked the fires at the ever-popular chip stands. I love the smell of a smouldering fire; it reminds me I’m indeed in Africa. A stop at a chip stand brought out the entire neighbourhood.

Nearing Lilongwe, a sign pointed to Barefoot Lodge, and I remembered Peter Gazzard (whom I met in Zambia) mentioned staying there. Not feeling like heading into the city, I veered in that direction and discovered a lovely set-up offering cottages, a campsite, and dorms. I opted to camp and later Rudolph, the owner, mentioned he gave cyclists a free night if they paid one night. I was delighted and settled into my spot, doing nothing. I should’ve done laundry.

 

13 May – Barefoot Lodge – Lilongwe – 15 km

Birdsong woke me from my slumber. What a lovely way to greet a day. Loading the bike was an unhurried affair as I only planned to move to the city to stock up on a few items. The ride turned out most interesting as I followed a rural path through traditional villages. It sure is a different world away from the main road. As anticipated, I was the primary source of attraction.

 

The small capital city of Lilongwe was home to Mabuya Camp a lovely backpackers establishment offering camping and huts under thatch on extensive shady grounds. The sad part is I was the only one there. I was clearly incorrect in assuming international travel has returned to normal.

Once booked in, I walked to the city mall, drew Malawian kwacha (1US$ - 1000MWK) and bought a few items for the trip to Blantyre. This mundane process was fascinating and much different from European cities. I loved the informal trade and the ease with which people moved about. One can buy practically anything while waiting at the traffic light – from jeans to brooms and your daily fruit and vegetables. With my purchases bagged, I returned to Mabuya Camp to rearrange my panniers to ride to Blantyre where I’ve arranged to meet Caron for a three-week holiday in Malawi.

 

14 May - Lilongwe - Salima – 110 km

The route to Lake Malawi, a lake which takes up the best part of the country, was too narrow to my liking, and it took concentrating on staying out of harm’s way. There was further no reaching the coast without scaling a few hills. The inclines slowed the pace, and kids ran alongside, calling, “Muzungu, muzungu, give me money!” Their demands were pretty annoying, and I needed to find a way to deal with them. The best was to look them in the eye — greet them, and enquire about their well-being. It took the wind out of their sails. Mercifully, the last part of the ride descended towards the lake, allowing getting away from the kids.

En route, I noticed the Malawian huts were often rectangular and not round. Again, a leftover of colonial encouragement to be more European.

Traditionally, African societies sit in circles, round fires or the company of elders. Circular huts provide an arrangement where no one is hidden in corners or left out, even during communal drinking or storytelling sessions. The weather is another reason, as rounded huts are more resistant to strong winds.

Towards the end of the day, Salina offered inexpensive rooms around a courtyard making overnighting an easy choice. Sadly, my laptop gave up the ghost, and I hoped it could be repaired in Blantyre.

 

15 May - Salima – Kolomoti – 80 km

Breakfast was included in the room rate, and I was on my way reasonably early. I thought the road was in dreadful condition, but this was Africa, after all. Every person on a bicycle wanted to give chase, but on spotting, I wasn’t following, they soon lost interest, provided I didn’t come too close. Finally, Rudolph from Barefoot Lodge came past and stopped to chat. He was taking clients on a tour of southern Malawi. How nice of him.

My route led past an abundance of baobab trees, indigenous villages and roadside markets, men herding livestock and women transporting large baskets of pumpkins on their heads. It’s incredible how easily they carry such heavy loads.

The most interesting was a traditional ceremony. The dancing was fascinating and included dancers dressed in tribal clothing, complete with African masks. Add drumming and dust created by the stomping of feet, and the atmosphere was electrifying. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take any pics as bystanders demanded money. People want money for just breathing the air in Malawi. I was utterly crowded and felt uncomfortable and considered it best to leave.

Noticing the next village was 80 kilometres down the drag, I enquired about accommodation and was pointed down a dirt road. The place wasn’t too bad, considering I only paid 7000 MKW and settled in under intense scrutiny. I was happy with a door to close.

 

16 May – Kolomoti – Balaka – 85 km

Breakfast consisted of a substantial plate of chips, eggs, salad, porridge and coffee. I needed all that energy as the ride was exhausting and into a strong headwind. Thank goodness, Balaka was a mere 80 kilometres further as I didn’t have the energy on this day to bike a further 80 kilometres to the subsequent settlement.

My chosen route was clearly off the beaten track, as my presence alone was enough to put the fear of God into the villagers.

First, a lady collecting wood spotted me and immediately dumped her wood and sprinted into the bushes. Not much further, three kids were on their way home after collecting water, carrying large water containers on their heads. They couldn’t have been more than eight years old (I’m not sure how healthy such a heavy load can be for a small child). Nevertheless, I took the camera out to take a picture, something I shouldn’t have done. They got such a fright they dropped their buckets and sprinted off. In their rush to get away, one fell and slid down the embankment! Poor kids. Afterwards, I didn’t take the camera out again.

Still, a certain peace and calm prevailed in the countryside. Some may think life in Africa is hard, but I think it’s only different from what we know. The concrete jungle comes with its own set of challenges.

 

17 May – Balaka – Zalewa – 73 km

Breakfast wasn’t included in the room rate, and I pedalled out of Balaka under scores of, “Good morning, Sir”.

The way was primarily uphill to the junction where I bought four mandasies (fried dough balls) at a mere 50 kwacha each. Even the most insignificant purchase usually created quite a stir in these tiny hamlets. Eventually, I answered all the questions, and yes, it is possible to cycle from South Africa to Malawi. I refrained from explaining my entire route.

Forty kilometres later, the new asphalt abruptly ended, and I once more found myself on a narrow, uneven road. The way was littered with tiny settlements where vendors sold grilled mice on sticks or bamboo birdcages housing colourful birds. I’m not sure how they eat mice as there isn’t much to a mouse once skinned.

The breeze picked up, and not being in the mood to fight the wind, I succumbed to temptation on spotting a somewhat upmarket guesthouse. Albeit pricey, the thought of a warm shower lured me in. I could do the final 60 kilometres to Blantyre the next morning. Caron was only arriving in four days, and I’d plenty of time to make my way to Blantyre.

 

18/20 May – Zalewa – Blantyre – 57 km

When I got on the road and discovered the wind had abated, I could scarcely believe my luck. I sailed up the hills like a hot knife through butter, barely stopping.

Nearly 70% of Blantyre’s population live in informal settlements with no social or essential urban services. It’s therefore understandable I was met by haphazard trade cycling into Blantyre. Markets spilt onto the roadway, taxis weaved in and out of the traffic and coffin makers sat comfortably between wood and furniture salespeople. The city is spread over numerous hills, and I gasped up the sharp inclines dodging taxis and people calling, “Azungo, azungo, give me money!” At times I thought the only way to capture the madness was by drone.

Fortunately, I found the city centre compact as I searched for suitable accommodation. In the process, I came upon Henderson Lodge, an old residential dwelling on extensive grounds converted into a guesthouse. The place was no Taj Mahal, but it did me just fine until Caron’s arrival.

I should’ve known something was up when I wasn’t hungry or wanted a beer following my ride. Still, I strolled to the supermarket but couldn’t face the food and returned, only sporting a bottle of water. Sick as a dog, I was all night! It seemed I could eat street food covered in flies but couldn’t handle breakfast from an upmarket establishment. Arghhh!

By morning, I felt considerably better and sauntered to the computer repair shop to hand in the laptop. I wanted to look around town but had no such energy and returned to the guesthouse, where I fell asleep. A few hours later, I was woken by a phone call informing me the laptop was ready. The rest of the day was spent reloading programs.

I was operating in low gear as there wasn’t much to do in Blantyre, or maybe I didn’t have the motivation to explore, and a relaxing day was spent at the guesthouse.

 

21 May – Blantyre

I cycled to the Victoria Hotel, where I’d arranged to meet Caron. The morning passed quickly and around midday Caron arrived, bike and all. We chatted forever prior to walking downtown to get a SIM card and pick up a few needed items.

Back at the Victoria Hotel, we discovered the hotel Moslem-owned, and thus no alcohol was served. Fortunately, scarcely 200 metres away was a local joint serving food and beer. We felt fortunate as we sat listening to African music, drinking a Kutchi-Kutchi, and watching our chips prepared on an open fire. At the same time, the sunset coloured the sky a bright red.

 

22 May – Blantyre

Our accommodation offered a substantial breakfast, and after having our fill, Caron’s bike was reassembled. The bicycle appeared to have survived its unstable housing and was soon good to go. Then, off to the supermarket to stock up for our intended walk of Mt Mulanje. Where we were going to pack our purchases remained a mystery.

Around lunchtime, we strolled to the Sky Lounge, a bar/restaurant, which turned out not a sky lounge but a garden lounge. The place offered a lush garden dominated by large trees, a well-stocked bar and reasonably priced food—a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Later we returned to the room and our task of repacking our already bulging panniers.

 

23 May – Blantyre – Likhubula – 78 km

Well-fed and rested, we saddled up and turned our bikes in the direction of Mulanje. At first, Caron needed to sort out a few teething problems on her bike. Fortunately, there’s a bicycle mechanic under almost every tree. However, the chaos of the market areas can be pretty intimidating, especially on the first day. Still, once cleared, the remainder of the day was smooth sailing and a mostly downhill ride to the lake area. Towards the end of the day our path led past vast tea plantations where workers were busy picking the leaves.

Once in Likhubula, it was a simple task to organise a guide and porter to take us on a three-night hike up the mountain.

 

24 May - Mulanje Hike – Day 1 – Likhubula – Chambe hut – 5 hours

Following breakfast of egg and bread, Caron and I stowed our panniers and bikes. We handed the porter a bulging backpack containing our belongings meant for the next four days. Shortly past eight, and while the fog was lying low, we trundled off accompanied by Vincent, our guide. Our first stop was a mere few hundred metres away to purchase engraved wooden walking sticks.

The low-lying mist created a mystical scene as the trail snaked up the mountain through a densely wooded area. Aided by our walking sticks, we scrambled up the steep sections and were soon spat out at a magnificent waterfall. Then onwards and upwards, until our path broke through the clouds, revealing magnificent vistas of the surrounding peaks. The perfect weather made for an early arrival, maybe a tad too early. Chambe hut sported not only a caretaker but also a sitting area featuring a fireplace. The caretaker prepared hot water to wash and put the kettle on the fire for tea. All this happened as Caron and I sat reminiscing about our day, drinking a Carlsberg beer and soaking up the last few rays. Caron used the warm shower provided, but I couldn’t get myself to undress and decided to persevere one more day without a wash.

 

25 May - Day 2 - Chambe hut - Tuchila hut – 6 hours

It dawned bright and sunny and, soon afterwards, we made our way up the mountain to the next hut. The scenery was magnificent as our guide set a relaxed pace. Brushing past the shrubbery vegetation released a pleasant herby fragrance. From time to time, the smell of cedar filled the air. We strolled along in silence, except for the melodic singing of birds, while admiring the magnificent landscape.

Midday, we stopped at a hut to have lunch and met two other hikers from New Zealand. We chatted some time before setting off on the next leg to our overnight hut. Shortly after arriving, Vincent provided hot water to wash. Feeling fresh as daisies, we boiled water to prepare our instant noodles. We shared our humble abode with a lady from Belgium on holiday in Africa. She, however, was very well organised and had not only a guide and porter but also a cook. We eyed her meal, which included dessert, with great envy as we scoffed our dull meal of noodles.

 

26 May - Day 3 – Tuchila Hut - Minunu Hut - 5 hours

We surfaced to a gorgeous morning and drank our coffee, looking out over the valley. The route to the next hut led over large granite outcrops and descended into fern-covered ravines. Descending into one of these gullies, I slipped and broke my wrist. It is one of the most disturbing things to see a limb not pointing in the direction it should! If crying would’ve helped, I sure would’ve bawled my eyes out. Sadly, Caron’s holiday was ruined in the blink of an eye, and nothing could be done about it. We strapped the wrist the best we could and proceeded to the next hut.

Once at the hut, Vincent tried pushing the hand where it belonged (I nearly shat myself) and made a splint which we secured by tape Caron brought along. I felt awful about the inconvenience caused and swore I’d never again hike without proper shoes. But life continued, and we cooked our pasta and discussed what to do next. I turned in early, feeling depressed about this sad situation.

 

27 May - Day 4 – Minunu – End of hike

Fortunately, only a four-hour walk to the trail’s end remained, where we could get a ride to where we started. The morning air was crisp as we trotted off on our final day’s walk. The hike took a tad longer as I was dreadfully slow on the downhill due to my shoes having no tread. It nevertheless was a brilliant hike, and the scenery unsurpassed. One could see luminous green tea plantations stretching miles ahead, a lovely end to a brilliant walk apart from a broken wrist. Vincent, our guide, organised a ride, and soon we were at our digs where we stowed the bikes—time to start organising and decide how to proceed.

 

28/29/30 May - Likhubula – Zomba - by car

As awful as I felt, there was nothing I could do but take a Cataflam and soldier on. Caron was a superstar and never complained and only saw the positive in this dreadful situation.

Our ride to Zomba was well organised and both bikes fitted into, what at first looked like, a tiny car. Our friendly driver dropped us at Pakachere, a well-known backpacker’s joint offering dorms and camping. We opted to camp, and it took me much longer to pitch the tent than usual.

Later, Caron and I walked out, me to the hospital, and Caron to organise a day trip up the Zomba plateau. The hospital couldn’t have been more interesting as various ramshackle buildings were scattered on a large site. There seemed no rhyme or reason to the layout. Still, eventually, after passing bloodied and injured patients, I came upon one who assisted me.

The offices resembled storerooms and equipment wobbly and squeaking, and I wondered if the readings taken were accurate. Then, like a sheep being led to slaughter, I was led to a different building. X-rays were taken, and a half cast was applied. All this was free of charge, and I was told to return in three days (once the swelling had gone down) to apply a full cast. The fact the broken bones didn’t quite seem to line up didn’t appear of great concern.

Returning to Pakachere, I bumped into Caron looking for a money changer, but being Saturday afternoon, all banks were closed. So, instead, we ambled to the supermarket to buy a few items needed.

Zomba was a tad chilly at 1000m elevation, and I borrowed a blanket from the hostel.

By morning, I slowly emerged from my warm tent as the blanket borrowed was thick and heavy. Still, it turned out reasonably early when we headed up to Zomba plateau via a steep, wooded road. Thank goodness we opted to take a ride to the top. Once on the plateau, a leisurely stroll took us to Emperor’s view, so named in honour of Haile Selassie, who visited the viewpoint in 1965. To this day, Rastafarians feel it’s a holy place, and we encountered a few heading down the mountain drawing on homemade pipes.

In Zomba, we headed to the dusty market area, searching for food and a backpack for my 3-week travel by bus. Afterwards, I reluctantly returned to the hospital to apply the cast as I thought the swelling had subsided.

Once all was done, the sun was heading towards the horizon and time to enjoy beer and a plate of chips.

 

31 May – 1 June – Zomba – Liwonde National Park – 55 km

Caron bravely set off on her first solo ride in Africa and headed toward Liwonde, where we arranged to meet at Bushman’s Baobab camp.

I first returned to the market area’s narrow lanes to locate a suitable travel bag. Afterwards, arrangements were made to store my bicycle and panniers at Pakachere. The staff was super accommodating and even offered to carry my bag to the bus station. How kind of them. I giggled uncontrollably as I set off to the taxi stand accompanied by my helper, who effortlessly carried the bag on her head. Then, with the minivan packed to the brim, we sped along through potholes to lower ground.

Once at Bushman’s, I discovered the place closed despite phoning the previous evening. Fortunately, Caron reached camp shortly ahead of me and located a half-built lodge opposite our intended destination. We were offered an enormous room at the same price as camping. We couldn’t be happier and settled into our abode on the Shire River.

The hippos made an almighty noise during the night, but being pitch dark, we didn’t see any. However, we could still hear them by morning as we set off in a canoe searching for wildlife. Fortunately, wildlife was abundant along the riverbanks. It’s always exciting to spot a herd of elephants roaming about. They are massive but move about ever so gently, and I can observe them hours on end. The hippos have massive bodies but a sensitive skin. They, therefore, prefer hiding in the water during the heat of the day. Still, one can see them basking in the sun, but they must retreat to the water to keep cool, for they don’t sweat. The fascinating part is they have numerous skin glands that release an oily reddish substance, leading to the ancient myth that hippos sweat blood. This pigment acts as a sunblock, filtering out ultraviolet radiation.

 

2 June – Liwonde National Park – Mangochi – 80 km

Caron set off on her second solo ride in Africa. At the same time, I took a motorbike taxi to Liwonde village, from where minivans ran to various destinations.

In Liwonde, I found Caron trying to adjust her rear rack in the company of hordes of helpers and spectators. Eventually, all was fixed, and Caron could be on her way. I was steered to a minivan and proceeded to Mangochi, where I located accommodation. Finding each other was a tad more challenging than anticipated. None of the three places agreed upon beforehand was still in operation. Thank goodness for mobile phones. Amid all this drama, Caron remained in high spirits despite being tired and with a sore behind. You rock, girl!

Our digs were no Taj Mahal but were inexpensive and gave us a bed and bathroom. The bucket of warm water provided was a real treat, and I could wash my hair - the first time in days.

 

3/4/5 June – Mangochi – Monkey Bay - 65 km

The room rate of 7000 MWK included a breakfast of chips, boiled eggs, bread and tea. It seems chips and eggs are staples in Malawi and are eaten throughout the day.

Soon afterwards, I longingly watched as Caron set off on her ride to Monkey Bay. I walked to the main road in search of a ride. One was quickly located and a price negotiated. We piled in, but it couldn’t have been 10 kilometres further when the engine conked out. I was told to hand over the agreed-upon fee as the driver needed petrol money. I did so, and off he went by bicycle taxi. The other passengers waved down a ride, leaving me the only passenger seeing I’d already paid. My driver later returned, but still he couldn’t get the motor running. I was transferred to a passing taxi and slinked into Monkey Bay long after Caron! Taking public transport can be more challenging than riding a bike.

Our agreed-upon abode at Monkey Bay was a good choice and a real haven. Mufasa Lodge consisted of basic accommodation right on the water’s edge. Although the set-up offered a restaurant, we walked into the village to purchase a few beers and snacks.

The following two days were spent on the beach, doing practically nothing except chasing the monkeys who constantly wanted to steal our stuff. I thought swimming in the lake would be more doable than a cold shower, but that wasn’t the case, as I could barely venture in halfway! The water temperature is said a constant 27C, but I could’ve sworn it was much colder.

Lake Malawi forms part of the Great Rift Valley, a series of continuous geographic trenches, approximately 7000 kilometres in total length, running from Lebanon in Asia to Mozambique. The lake was formed by volcanic activities roughly 2 million years ago. It’s further the fifth largest freshwater lake and the third deepest in the world and is home to more fish species (800 – 1000) than any other lake.

 

6 June – Monkey Bay – Cape Maclear – 20 km

The cool thing in Malawi is when a person needs anything from changing money to extending your visa, it only takes a phone call, and the person comes to you. So, with cash in my pocket and a two-month visa extension in my passport, I set off to the Fat Monkeys at Cape Maclear.

On the back of a moto, we sped off through the potholes and along a sandy part to where we were spat out at idyllic Cape Maclear. Caron soon arrived by bicycle. The weather was extremely windy, boats didn’t go out and fishermen used the time to mend the nets. We snatched a few pics of the kids playing in the water and women doing laundry and dishes in the lake before settling down, beer in hand, to watch the sunset.

 

7-8 June – Cape Maclear – Domwe Island

Mornings were busy at the lake as fishermen returned from a night at sea or headed out to place the nets. Others put the fish out to dry, and women did laundry or washed the dishes. Caron was looking forward to spending two nights on nearby Domwe Island and arranged a kayak and boat for the short crossing to the island. So, early morning, Caron paddled across the bay, and I jumped on the boat carrying our belongings.

The island is barely five kilometres from the mainland but uninhabited, apart from a rustic camp along the mountainside. We were the only ones there and pitched our tents on wooden platforms under thatch. There wasn’t anything to do on the island except paddle a kayak or swim in the lake, but the water was too cold to swim. Luckily, our spot was protected from the wind, and it turned out two lovely days.

 

9 June - Domwe Island - Monkey Bay

The boat collected me and our luggage at around ten as Caron paddled to Cape Maclear. Once our bill was settled, I caught a moto to Cape Maclear, and Caron cycled the hilly 16 kilometres to Mufasa Camp.

Finally, we returned to Monkey Bay because we decided to catch the famous or infamous Ilala ferry across the lake to Nkhata Bay, a two-day, one-night sail from Monkey Bay. The remainder of the day was thus spent buying snacks for our crossing as we anticipated few luxuries on board.

 

10 - 11 June - The Ilala ferry

Early morning, Caron and I headed towards the tiny pier, not knowing what to expect. Although early, the place was already a hive of activity. An hour or two later, we’d our tickets and got swept along with the crowd, all carrying huge bags of tomatoes, potatoes and corn flour on their heads. Once on board, we found our cabin occupied. It took time before we were led off to another one.

The MV Ilala is a passenger ship connecting the south of Malawi to the north.

The ferry is old (more than 70 years) and famous for being late (sometimes even days) due to maintenance. Still, it offered an unparalleled perspective of life in Malawi.

At the tiny lakeside villages and islands, the arrival of the Ilala caused quite a stir as only three stops are equipped with an actual pier. At the other harbours, anchoring was near the coast. The distance depends on the water depth, usually a few hundred metres away.

Landing and boarding were by fishermen and the two small lifeboats of the Ilala. People and goods needed to be pushed and shoved onto the boat. It’s a time-consuming process and quite a spectacle. As a result, the time was 2 a.m. on the morning of the 12^th when the Ilala docked in Nkhata Bay, and we could place our feet on terra firma. Disembarking was a slow process. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from Mayoka Village, where we planned on staying. Still, the time was 4 a.m. before we finally crawled into bed.

 

 

12 – 14 June - Mayoka Village, Nkhata Bay

Three full days were spent at Mayoka Village, doing very little. However, Caron used the kayaks well and spent many hours exploring.

The Mayoka Village is built along a cliff overlooking the lake and on the water’s edge. A perfect spot to while away the time. I was super impressed with the “donkey” shower, meaning one had to light a fire to warm the water. The fire was usually made around sunset, and the water remained piping hot until morning. The eco-toilets were very effective; instead of flushing, ash and sawdust did the job equally well.

Our daily meander into the village to pick up supplies was fascinating. The walk took us past One Love, where one could order basic food overlooking the lake. Not only did this friendly Rasta man sell food but also curios and “meditation cookies”. The curio sellers encountered were kind and laidback, and one felt immensely sorry as tourism hadn’t returned to normal. Still, they remained optimistic. Seeing my arm in a cast, they instinctively placed their hands on their hearts, followed by, “I’m so sorry”. What kind people the Malawians are.

 

15 June – Nkhata Bay - Mzuzu – 50 km

Caron’s time in Malawi was fast running out, and we loaded up and made our way to Mzuzu, a 50-kilometre cycle for Caron and a shared taxi ride for me. We bunked down at Umunthu, a comfortable spot sporting a great restaurant.

Mzuzu further indicated the end of Caron’s cycle ride as we planned on catching a bus to Lilongwe. A short walk brought us to the bus station, where we learned of a bus in the morning.

 

16 – 18 June – Mzuzu – Lilongwe – By bus

Fortunately, the bus was a relaxed affair, and we settled in for the 350-kilometres ride to Lilongwe. Once in Lilongwe, we made our way to Mabuya Camp, where we opted to camp. Unfortunately, finding a bicycle box in Malawi isn’t easy. Still, we located one at Game, and the following day staff offered to pack Carron’s bike, and all she had to do was hail a taxi to take her the short ride to camp. At times luck is on your side.

On the morning of the 18^th, Caron packed the last of her belongings to catch her return flight to Cape Town, ending her holiday in Malawi.

 

19 – 30 June – Lilongwe

Once Caron had departed, little remained to do In Lilongwe, and I soon became bored. June is mid-winter in Malawi, and I felt frozen all the time. Add to it that I couldn’t cycle, I was downright frustrated. Still, I handed in my laptop and camera lens to be repaired and had to wait until both were fixed.

The days passed slowly but, in the meantime, I learned Thailand planned on opening the country to foreign visitors from 1 July. So, impulsively, a flight to Bangkok was booked, where I could stay free of charge and where the mercury hovered in the mid-30s.

Happy about my decision, I couldn’t wait until 4 July and searched for a bike box which I again discovered at Game. With the bike boxed, it was only a matter of time before I was out of Malawi and hopefully in a warmer climate.

 

1 – 3 July – Lilongwe

Fortunately, more travellers booked in, and we chatted endlessly. No one seemed in a hurry to go anywhere. But, as expected, I was super keen to get going.

 

4-5 July - Lilongwe, Malawi – Bangkok, Thailand

I was up at the crack of dawn on the 4^th to catch my flight to Bangkok via Lubumbashi, Congo and Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Soon, it was hamba kahle, Africa, and hello to the land of smiles.

The flight touched down in Bangkok around midday on the 5^th, and I was sure everyone was eager to disembark! Then, finally, following a long wait, the bicycle appeared. I hurried to catch the bus to Jomtien, where I arrived dead tired and happy to unlock the door and flop onto a bed.

 

6 July – Jomtien

The majority of the day was spent dusting and sweeping as things get rather dusty when unoccupied. It didn’t take long as, contrary to what most believe, this isn’t an apartment or even a studio but a single room resembling a hotel room. I’m not complaining as it was never meant to be lived in but merely an emergency bunker to hunker down if need be. I love how minimalistic the place is.

That evening I became so fed up with the inconvenience of my cast that I sawed it off using the tiny blade on my Leatherman, nearly chopping my arm off in the process. I was shocked at what was revealed as the wrist didn’t appear normal! But it is what it is, I guess!

 

7 July – Jomtien

A great deal of the morning was spent cleaning the mess I made the previous night and getting rid of things I didn’t need. Strange how quickly one can collect stuff! By midday, I trekked to the supermarket around three kilometres away. Fortunately, I didn’t need a lot as I only had a small backpack. I was happy with removing the cast as I felt more mobile (rightly or wrongly so!).

It felt like I was settling in for a few weeks and invested in a 5-litre box of wine. Strange how easily I carried that! Hahaha. By evening, I strolled to the beach to snatch a few pics and felt quite content sitting there watching the kids play endlessly with only a bottle and cup.

 

8 July – Jomtien

As I played on the internet until after two in the morning, I was late in walking. My old Covid stomping ground looked much the same, and I enjoyed the ten kilometres amble along the water’s edge. Around midday, I realised I needed to visit the immigration office to confirm I was back in the country. I hurried down the road before they closed. Returning, I picked up a pineapple and lime smoothie, a refreshing drink on a hot day, and slurping it noisily, I made my way back.

The market across the road from my place provided convenient shopping to find salad ingredients as I was desperate to eat something fresh. By 8 p.m., it was still 30°C, and I settled on my balcony, a glass of wine in hand. I smiled at my fortune, crooked arm and all.