It is 5am when the alarm goes off. Helga and I almost bump into each other head first from the noise of the alarm which we are no longer used to. It at least makes sure that we are immediately wide awake. We slowly walk towards the kitchen, press the coffee machine to life and gather the last clothes and things that need to go into the car. An hour later we drive in a convoy from the courtyard towards the Tankwa Karoo desert.
We are being separated from James when we run into an old militairy truck with dead batteries who is also on its way to AfrikaBurn. Helga and I stop to help them. With a set of starter cables we try to boost the batteries, but when I see the wires giving off smoke I quickly pull everything loose and tell them that we cannot take any risks here. They will have to find another truck to help them out. They look disappointed, but they understand. The owner of the truck tries to convince me again that is a converted 12v system, but I won’t budge. We have too much to lose. We get into the car and start to chase James and his trailer. The road changes to sand, filled with corrugations and loose stones everywhere. The horizon is filled with dust clouds and other people on their way to Burn, one of the largest clouds in the distance will probably belong to James and Yolandi with their heavily loaded trailer. The moment we get off the main road, I have to pull up on the side of the road to let another car pass. When we continue the car pulls me strongly to the left and when I lean out of the window I can see one of the tires getting flat rapidly….Sh*t. Puncture. We put the car on the side of the road and quickly change our tire. We have some experience by now and within no time we are back on the road again towards the entrance of the festival. We are being welcomed by a merry group of people who are totally into the festival vibe. To our relief we quickly find James and Yolandi, we unload the stuff we brought for the organisation and start looking for a good spot to set up camp.Around us the desert turns into a giant encampment while we are concentrating on setting up our tent. We work until the last light, start again in the morning and are not finished until late afternoon. For our standards we are glamping. In the past 12 hours we managed to build a kitchen, set up a large gas cooker, a braai and set up a large tent from scratch to protect us against the sun, wind and sand. Both our cars are parked next to the tent for extra stability and kind of gives the idea of two sundowner decks. I ride around on a bicycle and plough through the desert sand. Most of the ground looks like a solid mass, but some places are rougher and the sand seems to come out from underneath. I’m amazed by all the bedouin style tents, the strange (mutant) vehicles and the artworks that were all transported over the same road we came from and are now built up to be looked at and burned at the end.
It’s the middle of the night when I lift my head of the pillow. I crawl out of bed on my hands and feet and look through the window of the narrow little room we sleep in. Through the cracks in the single glass window I can smell burned plastic. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and the vague outlines outside form recognisable shapes. A Landrover Defender is parked in the courtyard. The car sits heavy on its leafsprings and leans slightly backwards. I try to look through its windows, but I can’t make out very much since the inside is meticously packed top to bottom. Next to the car is a large open trailer. It has been packed to the brim. My hands slide over the wet window-frame and I have to wipe away the moister on the glass to see more. By now, my eyes are fully adjusted to the dark. Our car is parked in the corner of the courtyard, surrounded by walls and a gate. We are also a bit heavier packed, but you can hardly see this through our closed off windows.
I peer in the distance where see the glow of a small fire. The house we’re staying at is located next to a small “park”, more like a patch of grass. During the day people collect rubbish from the city, to burn on the grass at night to get a little warmth. It’s a very cold night and I hope they collected enough rubbish to stay warm. I let go of the window-frame and feel my way back to my pillow. My head falls onto it and I hope to catch my sleep again soon. After we approached the organisation of AfrikaBurn, Helga and I managed to be able to buy tickets through the re-selling of the tickets. Our enthusiasm went through the roof and we immediately changed our itinerary to accomodate this detour. We get the opportunity to stay with James and Yolandi in the days before AfrikaBurn. We met them when we stayed in Cape Town a few weeks earlier and they are also going to Burn. James and Yolandi are both industrial designers and they totally fit in hip Cape Town as we came to know and appreciate it.James takes this AfrikaBurn “project” very serious, as he does with all the projects they take on as a company. He puts his staff and workshop to use to make this a memorable festival for all of us. The fully packed trailer and cars are a result of this. We are taking everything to build a huge tent made out of fabric, wooden poles and rope, we are even making a kitchen and we’re taking 8x25L jerrycans with water. By bringing some stuff for the AfrikaBurn organisation, James managed to get us early access tickets. We leave one day before everyone else and this means we have one more day to make our camp before 12.000 people come hurdling in.
Langebaan, a sleepy town close to Cape Town. Nothing happens here until the wind picks up. When it does, it seems like everyone drops what they’re doing and head towards the water.
Langebaan lies next to a shallow bay which is surrounded by low dunes. When there is wind, it is the most ideal place for kite and wind surfing. In the few days we spend here there was no wind unfortunately…the sun is blazing on our tent and after two days we give up. Cederberg, April 11, 2016A small patch of green finds it way through the small valley, the rocks are grey coloured and made out of granite. A farm has camping and mainly has climbers around. We find ourselves a spot next to a large rock and surrounded by climbers and boulderers we share stories around the campfire. The next morning, armed with a bouldermat, we are starting our search for some good routes. We don’t have to walk very far…We hang around for a few days and leave to drive towards Wuppertal and Ceres. Why down and not up towards Namibia? We got tickets for Afrikaburn!
The neighborhoods we drive through show us a wide variety of colours. The brand new highway we drive on splits the suburb in two. We see kids play soccer on the side of the road where a sign tells us we are allowed to drive 120 km/h…sheep, goats and cows all seem to look at the same thing: the patch of grass on the other side of the road. A large sign tells us not to stop on this road, and if you really have to stop call the police for assistance.
We’re driving towards a large city, a gust of wind picks up a variety of white and grey plastic bags and blows them over the road and into the streets. We get in behind all the small city cars and manoeuvre our way through the small streets of Capetown. We’re invited by a scouts organisation to camp on one of their campsites. This campsite is on top of a hill called Signal Hill which basically divides the city in two. From the hill we can walk to the city in about 20 minutes. The caretaker of this property is the well known South African Braam Malherbe. Braam is a adventurer, a conservationist and multisporter. Recently he ran the total distance of the Chinese Wall, 89 marathons, a marathon a day. He also walked north to south on the Northpole and is currently in the preparations of his next trip: The Cape to Rio sailing trip, but rowing the entire distance. I feel excited to finally meet someone who has taken adventure travel to a model in which he can provide for himself and his son. We seem to be on the right track because we meet a lot of interesting people over the next few days.
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Helga slams the car door shut with a loud bang. Sweat trickles down her forehead and her breathing is rushed. I react to the bang, I let the clutch come up and we immediately start moving. We can hear the branches swishing around us when we drive through the fruit trees. When we reach the main road we can finally pick up the pace. A few days earlier we heard that one of the roads leading us out of Montagu will be closed entirely due to roadworks. This road is our only way of getting where we want to go without having to drive many more kilometres.
When Helga’s breathing is back to normal she starts to prepare for her role as navigator. She suddenly looks at me and asks: “Where are the maps?” I try to divide my attention, not my strongest skill, and wreck my brain where those maps are while driving through a busy pass. I can see both of us running out of the small reception area while the sprinklers try to liven up the sad looking grass and we try to avoid getting wet. We’ve used the maps to get information from the owners of the campsite, who just recently moved here from Botswana. The maps are probably still there…At the same moment I can tell that Helga has reached the same conclusion. This is one of those moments where you wish the cabin of the car was a bit bigger. We make a u-turn and pass the long row of cars trying to get out of town while we drive back to the campsite where we eventually find our precious maps. We now know the way and decide to try our luck again. We end up being one of the last cars to get through before they close the road to start the explosions to improve the road. We are very lucky, but it still takes about 20 minutes before Helga talks to me again. We are now on the most southern point of the continent of Africa: Cape Agulhas.
Stellenbosch March 24, 2016 Even though we’re 10.000 km from home, we sometimes feel like we’re at home. In Montagu we met some climbers: Canadian Becky and South African Johann. They invite us to their home in Stellenbosch, an offer we don’t have to think on for very long. Over the next few days we stroll through pitoresque Stellenbosch with friends, we run, climb, go to pubs and walk through Franschoek NP.
It is early morning when we leave the campground and start driving north, towards Lake Malawi. When we reach Liwonde we look for some shade and have a look at our map. In concentration we are studying the map as to which route to take. South, to visit the mountain, North to the small lake just before Liwonde National Park or Lake Malawi. In my head I follow the different coloured lines on the paper before me.
The squaking of brakes pulls us out of our concentration. We both look over our schoulders towards the main road. Through the rows of trees we can just see a truck parked on the side of the road. It takes a few minutes before the smell of burned rubber reaches us at the restaurant. At that moment we know something is wrong. It is quiet, an eery silence hangs in the air when we reach the main road. A group of people has gathered on the side of the road and they stand very still, faces staring towards the asphalt. I approach them very slowly, but no one seems to notice me. Looking at the asphalt myself it tells me what has just happened. A middle aged man on a bicycle was hit and probably run over by the truck that is now parked on the side of the road. It wouldn’t have made a difference if there had been immediate help, as far as I can tell, it would have been too late anyway. A man in a grey uniform drapes a piece of fabric over the body with the help of some bystanders. A human life sometimes ends in seconds. It’s not something we are very familiar with, but this shakes us up very much. We both think back to a couple of weeks earlier when we witnessed another fatal road accident. We navigate around the main road and without talking about it we drive towards the lake where we find a nice spot at the beach. A few local guys are busy to get a trawl in on the shore line. They walk in a line and when they reach the end of the rope, they walk to the front again. It looks like a tough job and I can use the distraction. The men seem very pleased when I decide to join the rope pulling to get the heavy trawl out of the water. In the tent that night, the wind picks up so strongly that we decide to pack everything up in the middle of the night. We drive our car away from underneath the trees that sway dangerously, while dropping branches and fruits, and find shelter behind a building. We sleep in the car on the front and back seats the for remaining few hours. Very stiff from a bad night sleep and without having to pack anything up, we leave early. A small track leads us to Monkey Bay. Monkey Bay and Cape McClear are popular tourist destinations because of the unique bay that has a sunset over the lake.We find a beautiful campsite underneath a mango tree and swim with hundreds of tiny coloured fish called cichlids. In the evening we see small groups of men walking towards the lake where they scrub themselfves until they are almost white, from the soap obviously.
When we leave the Cape we run into a checkpoint very quickly. A young police officer stops us and sticks his head in through the car window. We talk a bit about nothing before he asks: “ and, what are you giving me? I can see you have 4 hats hanging in the car, you don’t need 4 hats, you can give me one.” I am taken a back by his straightforward approach and try to explain to him that we do need all those hats. I offer him a cigarette and after he tries to get a hat some more he gives up, takes another drag from his cigarette and lets us go. 24 September 2016I walk through the small alley of the village we just arrived in on my flimsy flipflops. In my pockets I have nothing more than a few kwachas. School has just finished and the children are hanging around the low school building and draw figures in the sand with their sticks. I kick the powdery black sand up with every step I take and I can see my feet turning the same colour very quickly. The further I walk, the more the houses are packed together and finally I walk into a tiny alley. It is clear that the residents have tried to create shade by putting pieces of colourful cloth and plastic in between the two rows of houses that flap loudly when the wind gets under them. It’s late in the afternoon and I’m looking for dinner ingredients. The houses, made of clay and home made bricks have little openings, where I can see their variety of goods. I take my time navigating slowly through the market until I reach a place where they sell vegetables. I buy a few tomatoes, a cabbage and some onions which they sell me for a Mzungu price (the Malawian word for white person). With everything loaded up in my backpack I easily find my way back to the place we are camping at.
Lake of Stars Festival
29 September 2016 It is early morning and we can see that it is getting busier along side the road. Little stalls, made out of bamboo are being built in quick succession next to each other. A long narrow beam blocks off the road. A lot of people squeeze past it, while others shout out instructions over the handheld devices. It is a day before the festival starts, but it is already very busy at the Chinteche Inn. We try to get our car on the festival itself, but that request is denied and we are only allowed on foot. Right behind each other we walk through the gate and immediately we can feel the festival vibe descending down upon us like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. After walking around for a bit, we find out where the central nerve system of the festival is located and before we know it we’re put to work and find ourselves behind one of the festival bars. For three days we enjoy the live bands and relaxed vibe, while also volunteering by selling the drink vouchers.
Lake of stars:
Lake of Stars Festival is an annual three-day international festival held on the shores of Lake Malawi, the third largest lake in Africa. The festival was started in 2004 and continues attracts over 3,000 attendees with musical acts from Africa some international known artists. The majority of Lake of Stars staff are volunteers and the majority of performers get little to no pay. Over $1.5 million is generated by the festival for the local economy.
We’re invited by a scouts organisation to camp on one of their campsites. This campsite is on top of a hill called Signal Hill which basically divides the city in two. From the hill we can walk to the city in about 20 minutes. The caretaker of this property is the well known South African Braam Malherbe. Braam is a adventurer, a conservationist and multisporter. Recently he ran the total distance of the Chinese Wall, 89 marathons, a marathon a day. He also walked north to south on the Northpole and is currently in the preparations of his next trip: The Cape to Rio sailing trip, but rowing the entire distance. I feel excited to finally meet someone who has taken adventure travel to a model in which he can provide for himself and his son. We seem to be on the right track because we meet a lot of interesting people over the next few days.
