Journey of a Lifetime: Part 2

Last updated: Jul 09, 2014

Fred Von Hoyer is driving up Africa, from Cape Town to the Tangiers. This is his Journey of a Lifetime. To read the story of the journey so far go to Journey of a Lifetime : Part 1 which documents his trip from Cape Town to Windhoek.

After a short time of relaxing and getting the bike ready I left Windhoek, Namibia. I headed north-west for a town called Uis, a small mining town at the foot of the Brandberg Mountain so called because its highest peak glows orange when the light of the low sun reflects off it.

I decided to take a quiet dirt road, and was in a rather determined mood until I fell in some soft sand. There were a swarm of butterflies around me, and I decided to try and photograph them which turned into a tricky exercise that didn't yield any results. Eventually I just took some time to watch them flutter around before setting off.

... there was a little bush nearby covering an unseen stump which struck the side of the bike stopping the machine instantly and sending me over the bars

Storm clouds started closing in making the landscape eerie with the lighting and dark skies, and by the time I came to the entrance gate of the Egongo Mountain Park it had started to rain. The dirt road was soaked so I had to slow down. I came across a low water bridge with water flowing over it and as I was going over, the bike slipped from under me. The bridge was covered with slippery algae. I managed to get a foot hold and gingerly pick up the bike and walked it onto the bank. I was completely soaked now, boots and all. Just then a land rover drove past me and over the bridge without so much as a gear change... rovers.

After a long day riding in the rain I rolled into Uis, a small mining town of around 3000 people, with a mine that was closed down when sanctions were lifted on South Africa. The town was bought at an auction for a song and sold off bit-by-bit to Germans who come here to get away from the winter. I was pointed towards the Brandberg Rest Camp, and was very happy to be getting out of the cold and into some clean and dry clothes.

They had a bar and restaurant where I enjoyed a beer and met Barry, an air traffic controller living in the Middle East who was visiting his father-in-law, Louie, who did game capture all across Africa and had some interesting stories to tell. The owner of the rest camp, Basil, kindly invited me to join them for a great dinner; I asked Basil if he knew of any interesting routes to drive from Uis to Sesfontien. In the morning he showed me a route running along the base of the mountain, through riverbeds and over dunes - it sounded challenging but good.

The route was a great choice, quite challenging especially over the dunes, where I kept falling time and time again. The riverbeds were easy and enjoyable as there were no ruts made by other vehicles so I had the whole riverbed to swerve across. I was completely alone for the entire day on the wide open plains and riverbeds. In the afternoon I crossed paths with Basil, Louie and Barry, and they invited me to have lunch with them in the riverbed. After we finished eating, we parted ways and I headed on to Palmwag for the night, arriving at sunset.

The next morning I drove north to Ruacana, a town on the border of Namibia and Angloa. At the fuel station I filled all the bladders and serviced the chain, cleaning it with diesel and lubricating it. By the time I was finished it was 16:00. I drove on to the border and stopped to watch Ruacana Falls which was in full force. The border crossing was easy enough and took two and a half hours making it 18:30 when I entered into the bush of Angola. Ruacana was not a very well used entry point and it was dirt track from the word go. I decided to set up camp on the side of a river.

The next day started well, the track I was on was good and the people where friendly. I came to the next river crossing which was a little more challenging than the last one and I waited for some local boys that where pushing a bike and a goat to catch up with me. Once past the small talk I helped them carry their motorbike across, and they then came back and helped me push my bike across. Once across I went back to fetch my luggage when a Landcruiser stopped and motioned for me to load my bags on and drive across. Through broken sign language the driver told me that my intended route was bad and the rivers were waist deep.

I decided to heed his advice and headed north from Cinquetta to Cahama. The road was better at first, but became a washed out sand and mud track making the going very slow and bumpy. Along one pass I saw what I took to be a branch, as I came closer the branch moved, flattened it's head and rose up as I passed it. Realizing it was a cobra as the front tire passed it, I lifted my right leg instinctively, and passed it before it was fully up. From then on every branch was suspicious.

It was becoming a long day, covering a little over 70 kilometres up to the afternoon. It started to rain and the road became mud. The bike was slipping here and there but never falling. By 17:00 I was so tired, wet and hungry I pulled over realizing that I would have an accident if I continued, I drove a few meters then took a path some distance from the main mud track to setup camp. Exhausted I made supper first, and was about to set up the tent when it started to rain heavily. The tent ended up getting soaked, and my morale sunk as I struggled to get any sleep.

The road was still very wet and muddy in the morning and driving off I lost control in a slippery patch and fell. Covered in mud I picked the bike up drove a 100 meters or so and the same happened again. I took a break to get my concentration and strength back and then drove on. Some short time later I dodged a puddle - unfortunately there was a little bush nearby covering an unseen stump which struck the side of the bike stopping the machine instantly and sending me over the bars into the puddle. I got up a little winded and on inspection the clutch selector was bent right back and the bash plate had taken most of the impact. After bending the necessary back to the right position I drove on to Lubango where I spent some down-time getting some food and drink. Then I was off to Namibie, a small town on the coast. The landscape changed vastly from bush to desert as I drove on and finally reached Namibie at sunset.

Well rested and fed the next day, I was off to drive an easy road to Benguela, or so I was told by a local who said it would take me four hours. The GPS confirmed that there was new tar with a little gravel in between. I took a little detour through the desert on dirt, down to the beach then back to the tar, stopping off once to meet a few taxi drivers and have a cool drink. The tar was excellent and the drive good despite it drizzling for some time. The gravel section came, very corrugated and slow, and it just got worse. The promised tar never came.

... just before sunset I arrived at the actual river. Sure enough there was little chance of crossing the 50 meters of waist high heavy flowing water.

About 250 kilometres down the road I came across some construction workers who said that the rain had washed the road ahead away, and it could not be passed. This would mean I would have to go back to Namibie then back to Lubango which would mean a 600 kilometre detour. There was no way I was going back through that terrible road without seeing this river crossing for myself. It was 45 kilometres away and they said maybe I can make it. Worth a chance I thought.

I came across a little river flowing lightly with a rocky bed. It wasn't too bad and I was chuffed that I didn't turn back. I stopped and rewarded myself with some smarties but I had a funny feeling that maybe I had rewarded myself too soon and perhaps there was another river further on that they were talking about... naaa.

I carried on riding and just before sunset I arrived at the actual river. Sure enough there was little chance of crossing the 50 meters of waist high heavy flowing water. I knew it was that deep because I had watched some villagers crossing to see who I was, but they weren't too interested and didn't stay long.

I was going to have to camp here and drive back tomorrow. I was about to get the tent out when two local young men on little motorbikes came up, then a man in a Nissan Patrol, then another man on a motorbike, then the villagers came back and crossed to us. This was looking interesting now; a 210 kg bike, three light bikes, and a tank of a Nissan sitting on the bank thinking the same thing.

Just then the man in the Nissan Patrol, the unofficial leader of this endeavour came to me and said if I paid them they would carry the bike across. We agreed on a sum and a plan was set in action. We got three branches from a makeshift village fence: one under the swing arm just in front of the rear tire, one through the crash bars and one through the front tire. Before I could get in to help seven men had hoisted the machine onto their shoulders and were making their way into the river. If they dropped it into the river it was over.

The whole scene was like watching one of those old colonial movies where British explorers in pith helmets take ridiculous objects through the jungle. It was quite a sight to behold. In no time I had a bone dry bike on the far bank of this impassable river, but the night didn't end there. As I was carrying my luggage over, the Nissan started to drive into the river; it got no further than five meters before it got stuck. We then spent the night up to our necks in the flowing river, battling to understand one another and battling to get this hunk of heavy metal out of the water. By midnight, we gave up, and we hoped that the river would subside. We were all soaked and completely exhausted.

One of the villagers invited me to stay in the village which was just a few meters away. I drove my bike through the bush to his village. Wet, tired and hungry I set up my still wet tent in the middle of the village. There were voices all around but I had no faces to put to them. By 02:00 am I fell asleep. The next morning the village awoke at sunrise, and I was surrounded by friendly and inquisitive adults and children. The Nissan driver was back at the river, and with help on its way from a nearby town I decided to head out.

Arriving in Benguela was nothing short of amazing. I was able to get some food and drink and just relax for a little while. Thinking back over the journey so far I became aware that a pattern was emerging. I would have a plan for the day but then life would intervene and great things would happen.

I look forward to seeing what more adventure life is going to throw at me on the next leg of the journey.


Bio

Frederick Von Hoyer is a Super Lynx Pilot in the South African National Defence Force. He will be driving from Cape Town to Tangiers by himself on a BMW F800GS, and writing a blog as he goes. This is a journey of a lifetime for Fred, who has been planning this trip for years.

During his trip he will be raising awareness about a charity called Ubuntu Africa, who are involved with improving the health and wellbeing of HIV-positive children in under-served communities in South Africa. To make a donation to the cause, go to their Donations page, and reference 'Cape2Tangiers Charity Drive'.

For more information about Fred and his journey up Africa, go to http://www.cape2tangiers.co.za/.