Vilanculos to Xai-Xai

The few days I had spent relaxing in Vilanculos had come to an end, and I was ready for the final few stints which would get me back to where it all started… I was packed and ready at 6.30am, went to the dining area to have a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, then spent a few minutes saying goodbye to Colleen, who was on her way to take her grandchildren to school. I left the lodge at 7.30am, and went into town to see if I could get my tyres pumped back to the correct pressure before doing the run to Xai-Xai… I planned to spend my last night in Mozambique there, before crossing the border into Swaziland.

The filling station in town did not have a compressor, and I decided to ride out of town to a place where I could find some shade to use my own compressor. While I was pumping the tyres, a group of locals came out of their village to watch me, and were amazed that I was able to plug a compressor into the bike… Until a few months ago, I would have been as amazed as they were!!

I stopped to pump my tyres near a few small lakes on the N240 from Vilanculos…

After accepting and eating the banana offered to me by one of the villagers, I mounted up and continued down the N240 to Pambarra, where the road rejoins the EN1 that runs south all the way to Maputo. I stopped to refuel here and while this was being done, spent some time considering the ride ahead… I knew that with the improving road conditions, I would be able to make good time for the first few hours, before the 70km section of potholes I had been warned about on the run in to Xai-Xai itself… I decided to take a slower than usual ride and take in more of the scenery… I felt I had earned it… Or perhaps I did not want this ride to end…

Bundles of reeds used for thatching and building, are sold along all the major roads…

I decided to make Maxixe my next refuelling point, which was about 240km away, and then have enough fuel after that to get me into Xai-Xai by mid-afternoon. I wanted to spend the late afternoon and evening getting my journal up to date and sorting through my kit to “offload” any stuff I felt wasn’t necessary to get me through to Johannesburg…

I rode through Maphinhane and Murure in blazing sunshine, my jacket opened to mid-chest, enjoying the breeze that cooled me down and prevented my t-shirt from sticking to my body. I slowed to watch a group of women collecting reeds and stacking firewood for sale alongside the road… In Mozambique and parts of Malawi, everything and anything is for sale!! Even piles of rock, which are sold to people who break them down in smaller stones and sell them as gravel… I wished some of this gravel would find its way into some of the larger potholes I had come across!!

With Cheline, Machanissa, Mavanza and Nhachengue receding in my side mirrors, I crossed into the district of Massinga and came to the town of Unguane… Up until this point the road had been great to ride on, nary a crack or a pothole to bother avoiding, wide shoulders to stop on and very little traffic to contend with… On the southern edge of Unguane, I passed into another world… The roads department of Mozambique had managed to skip the next 65km of road leading to Massinga…some of the potholes were big enough to have potholes of their own!!

Every two or three hundred metres, a section of road akin to the surface of the moon, would come into view… I was on and off the throttle constantly, changing up and then down through the gears again, running off the road onto the sandy verges on occasion… All in an attempt to avoid any further damage to the bike. I was concerned that my front shocks had taken too much of a beating over the last few thousand kilometres, and was still nursing my front brakes from the incident in Tanzania… I would hate a mechanical fault to bring my journey to a pre-mature end, especially now that I was in touching distance of the finish…  

The road south, past Unguane and on to Massinga, had me in “avoidance mode” once again….

I battled my way through ever worsening sections of road, sometimes stopping in areas to let oncoming trucks and cars use the better parts of the road before attempting them myself… I had discovered that trucks tend to disregard oncoming bikers, probably assuming we can dive off the road and back on again with ease… Not the case with a heavily loaded R 1200 GS (386kgs with rider!)… I passed the turnoff to Pomene, where a number of SUV’s towing boats and jet-ski trailers were readying themselves for the torrid time that lay ahead of them on the road to the coast… Pomene is said to be a birder’s paradise, as it lays on the edge of a lagoon which encompasses a mangrove swamp. I was told that this was one of the better places to dive for, and see, Dugongs… The entire area is a protected reserve, and I made a mental note as I passed to return here at a future date…without the “Big Fella”, but rather in a robust 4×4, carrying diving gear and a good pair of binoculars!!

I passed the turnoff to Morrungulo and rode into the outskirts of Massinga, noticing as I did so, that this town seemed to be a coconut depot of sorts… Large pyramids of the fruit were stacked under palm fronds along the sides of the road, ready to be collected by large tip-trucks and smaller pick-ups, to be taken away for processing. It was extremely hot in the midday sun, and looking to the south of the town, I noticed the familiar thunder clouds building… After all the rain I had ridden through, I wasn’t too perturbed by this, although I needed more rain like I needed a hole in the head… I stopped for a soda and took a few photos of the town centre, not much different to any other run-down settlement I had passed, except in scale… The main road was wider, and any number of informal businesses could be found along it. I saw a tiny shack made from palm fronds, advertising a photo-copy service!! I peeped in and there on a makeshift table sat a dilapidated photocopier, linked to a cable that ran out behind the shack and over the wall into a garden beyond… I wondered if the owner of the house was aware that his power was being used to run this little business…

A short distance south of Massinga, I crossed the Tropic of Capricorn for the second time on this trip, the first being just south of Rehoboth on the road to Windhoek, many weeks ago… I had been thundering along and could not stop in time to take a photo, as I was in a hurry to get to Windhoek to get the bike serviced… This time I stopped and took the photo below.

My second crossing of the Tropic of Capricorn, south of Massinga

From the very outskirts of Massinga, an unbroken plantation of coconut trees stretched south for over 225km!! In places the plantations covered low hills all the way to the horizon on either side of the road… Many of the little settlements I passed were involved in the harvesting and preparation for transport of the fruit… I stopped and watched them for a while, sorting through the piles of coconut, rejecting some while piling others into the aforementioned pyramids, and then covering them with branches from the coconut tree itself. An elderly woman was deftly cleaving another pile of coconuts in half with a machete and setting them out to dry. I had seen truckloads of these “halves” being transported and assumed there was a factory of sorts in the vicinity which must be processing the flesh… Allan would have found it and arranged a tour… I on the other hand had business further south and after taking some film of the scene, I mounted up and headed for Maxixe…

Pyramids of coconuts on roadside, awaiting transport…

Quality control and sorting is done in the time honoured fashion…by hand!!

I passed through Malovo and crossed the Guizugo and Mahocha Rivers before entering the district of Morrumbene. I was now close to the north western tip of the Baia de Inhambane, and many tracks led down to beach resorts off the EN1. After crossing the Inhambane River, the road turned south-east for the town of Maxixe. I refuelled at the Total Filling station on the way into town, and then standing up on the pegs to stretch my legs, idled into the centre of town…

I considered taking the ferry over to the town of Inhambane and then riding the EN101, a gravel road, down to Lindela and back onto the EN1, but decided against this idea after getting a rather sceptical look from a local taxi driver when I asked if he thought the bike would be okay on this road… I cruised out of town, through Lindela and on through the district of Jangamo on my way to Inharrime. From time to time a light drizzle floated down over the area, but would almost immediately be followed by patches of bright sunshine.

I passed Cumbana, where a pick-up truck lay on its roof next to the road, a crowd of people shaking their heads around it. Crossing the Mutamba River, I arrived at the settlement of Inhacoongo passing many “stands” selling peri-peri and other chilli-based products produced by individual families who closely guard their product… I stopped to take a closer look at one such “unoccupied” stand and was scared out of my wits when an old woman rose from out of the long grass next to the stand and greeted me!!

Mind altering chilli sauces are sold all along the road south of Maxixe…avoid experimentation at all costs!!

She suggested I dip a finger into one of the bottles to taste “her” sauce (much beating of the chest to indicate that her recipe was the best!) I considered her offer for a moment, wondering at the obvious lack of hygienic conditions under which these sauces had been prepared… The old girl gave me one of her winning smiles and again proffered the bottle for me to test… Being a regular abuser of the Tabasco bottle, I had no fear of testing her claim, and dipped a finger into the bottle and sucked the sauce into my mouth…

At first there was just the usual “spicy” taste in my mouth, but a minute later I was thankful that I had my helmet with me, as the top of my skull seemed to want to separate itself from the rest of my head!!! I nodded my head a few times, trying to appear nonchalant and unimpressed, all the while wanting to shove my head into a barrel of cold water to put out the flames that must obviously be roaring in my mouth!! Finally, I stopped the pretence and took a few big steps towards my bike to get my hands on my water bottle… The old woman cackled with glee at my discomfort and shouted up and down the road to all the other hawkers, pointing at me downing a half litre of water… I foresaw hand stands in the shower later that night, and headed quickly south to get as close to a toilet as possible before the second phase of her sauce kicked into gear…

I passed the turnoff to Zavora and motored through Inharrime on my way to Quissico, a small town on the edge of a large fresh water lake, separated from the sea by a narrow spit of land… This is a beautiful area, but a large thundercloud had settled over the town just before my arrival, and greeted my entrance with a cloudburst… I frantically looked for shelter, and found it under the roof of a Galp Petrol Station… The petrol attendants, who were dashing for the safety of their little office, changed their minds when I skidded under the roof, close to the pumps, and gathered around to ask me the usual 20 to 40 questions… We chatted for about 15 minutes while rain lashed the area, and then as the cloud moved on and out over the lake, I put my helmet back on (it was still keeping my head together after the chilli-sauce!) and left to ride the 130kms to Xai-Xai…

I was now anxious to get to wherever I could find a place to spend the night, as I had spent quite a bit of time stopping for photographs and entertaining the locals… A “slow-release” ache began building in my upper back and shoulders, and I opened the throttle and tore east towards Chidenguele, thundering through Mavila and sending a large grey chicken to the great coop in the sky as I exited Chissibucca…

And then I was into the section of road I had been warned about…. At first the potholes were plate-sized, inch-deep depressions in the road, easily avoided and even ridden through without hassle… Then they got progressively larger, and finally joined together to form as teeth-shattering a road as you can imagine!! I had started this stretch doing over a 100km/h, but was soon reduced to a safer 60km/h by the conditions. I zigged and zagged my way past Chizavane and Chongoene, the road narrowing the closer I got to Xai-Xai. Dodging buses and 4×4’s towing ski-boats, I arrived in outskirts of town, and turned off on the road that led down to the sea, to look for accommodation.

I couldn’t believe how run down Praia de Xai-Xai was! I had heard how popular this part of the coastline was, enjoyed by divers and fisherman alike, yet what I found was a depressing mix of dilapidated houses and a burnt out hotel… A few sand roads led to what promised to be better establishments, but I was not in the mood to find out if they did justice to the pretty signs indicating their whereabouts…

I spoke briefly to a Portuguese lady who held a large fish up to me as I stopped to ask for directions. I politely enquired if she could see any place on my bike where I may be able to put a fish of the size she held in her arms, and after taking a careful look, she asked if I perhaps wanted a smaller fish… Gritting my teeth through a false smile and glaring at her from behind my dark glasses, I asked if there was a guest house hidden among the mess that was Praia de Xai-Xai… She assured me there was not such place available, and suggested I try the hotel in the town itself, about 8km back to the EN1… Not what I needed to hear…

At a 100km/h, it became more and more difficult to dodge the potholes…

Xai-Xai was just as depressing… I stopped at an ATM to draw money, refuelled the bike and idled down the main street, seeing the suggested hotel in the distance… The closer I got to it, the more I realized that I had more riding ahead of me today… I parked outside the restaurant which formed part of the Hotel Kaya Ka Hina, ordered a Prego roll and chips, and while the sullen waitress went to the kitchen to arrange for my order, I drank a soda and wondered what the hell I was going to do… It was after 3.00pm, and I was feeling the effects of having been on the road since 8.00am that morning… While I was waiting, I checked the GPS to see where the nearest lodgings may be, and discovered that a place called the Honey Pot was a mere 18km away on the road towards Maputo… If that failed, it would be Complexo de Palmeiras in Bilene, 70kms away…

While I ate, batting away squadrons of flies determined to share my meal, a constant throng of what were obviously “ladies of the night” paraded in and out of the hotel… I hoped the place called “The Honey Pot” referred to bee-related issues rather than women… I paid the bill and rode out of town and over the Limpopo River on the Xai-Xai Bridge, noting the “high accident area” signs, which were followed by signs indicating high winds as well…

A large herd of cattle grazed on the banks of the river on the far side of the bridge. The road was raised well above the flood plains, which stretched away on either side. Wind buffeted me as I crossed the area on the way to a grove of trees some distance away…

Xai-Xai Bridge over the Limpopo River…

Once I reached the trees, the road was protected from the wind, and I settled down on the bike and punched my destination into the GPS, noting that The Honey Pot was now 15km away. I covered the distance in a flash and stopped at the roadside curio shop which was also the entrance to the camping ground and other forms of accommodation…

I met the owners Ockert and Christelle Wood and later had a beer with them while relating my experiences to date and listening to Ockert describe the various lodges he had built up and down the coast of Mozambique… The Wood’s had arrived in Mozambique from Markham in the Northern Transvaal to do electrical contracting on the lodges that were being built at the time… They eventually settled here, close to Xai-Xai, where Ockert built a sawmill and then all the cottages and the residences on the property.

Near the main house is a medium-sized sawmill, and from this factory he produces decking and tongue and groove boards for the housing and lodge industry throughout Southern Mozambique… Mecrusse, or Lebombo Ironwood, is used in most of the products he produces, which includes a range of rustic furniture…

The little cabins are comfortable and contain two single beds covered by a single, large mosquito net. The ablution block which serves these cottages is large and spotlessly clean. I enjoyed a hot shower before unpacking the bike and arranging for an extension cable to be brought to me so that I can use my computer under one of the gazebos built close to the cottage… I sat there, drinking water and banging away at the keyboard until well after the sun had gone down. Squadrons of mosquitoes began making their presence felt, so I hurriedly packed the laptop away and then built a fire from the large stack of firewood provided at the braai points built near each of the cottages.

The little cottage at The Honey Pot… Pau Preto – Black Wood… apt for the Dark Destroyer, I thought….

The team of security guards who patrolled the premises carried R5 automatic rifles, and I asked one of them why this was necessary… They advised me that the rifles were standard issue… They also told me that anybody found breaking and entering a cottage or vehicle on the premises would be shot and killed!! I made a mental note not to wander around after dark…

A young basset hound began following my every move and had even sat watching me shower after pushing the door open with her nose… I shared a packet of crisps with her while I sat watching the flames dance up from the pile of wood I had packed onto the fire… I began reflecting on the journey I had made thus far, and the last two legs I still had to cover… It would have been better sharing the fire with someone to talk to, but the dog wasn’t bad company at all, never once disagreeing with any of my observations about life in general…  

She sat close to me, where I could reach out and scratch her ears and chest. When the flames had died down leaving a bed of red coals, I made my way to bed, watching as the dog curled into a ball near my door and went to sleep… I thought briefly of our dog Amber, who we had to have put-down in November and remembered that we had planned to scatter her ashes on the koppie near our house… I wondered if I would still get the chance… Ever since I was a child, I had always formed special bonds with the dogs we had owned, and I still mourned the loss of Amber, an amazing Rhodesian Ridgeback who had probably had more character than any of the others dogs I had known…

I had a restless night, waking every few hours to go outside to light a cigarette and stare at the stars, watching as the security guards patrolled the camp, the basset growling each time they passed… She lay there all night and each time I looked at her I thought of Amber, then Jessie and the home we had lost…

It seemed that the closer I got to home, the sharper the memories that I had fled from became… It was going to be a tough homecoming, and I wondered again how the coming months would affect my future plans and those of my children… I knew that I would be going “Back to Bedlam”, and would have my hands full in the next few weeks…