A night in police custody

Well Megan and I made it safely to Cape Town and after a couple of days of playing tourist picked up our very flash 4x4 camper which is to be home for the next month.

First stop,  Cape of Good Hope which we saw through mist and rain,  then onto a penguin filled beach - all good fun and exactly what we hoped for.

OK now to find a caravan park - ah the Cape Town area ones all shut to newcomers at 5pm, where are we to stay we ask? Don't know, don't care is the response. After driving around we end up beyond the outskirts of town considering a local beachside area but then the police turn up and say no. A bit of sweet talking,  and they agree we can stop and they say they'll even check on us every hour. A couple of hours later their back (just after we're fast asleep), a change of mind, no you can't stay here we're worried about your safety.  Any way long story short, we were asked to come back to the local police compound where we are invited to spend the night. Can't imagine the Australian police making that offer. Unfortunately they would not let me take their photo, but here is the car in the compound.

And finally a few more shots as we start to move north from Cape Agulhas,  Africa's southernmost point towards Namibia.

Messing about in boats

Ratty said in the book Wind in the Willows that "there is nothing as much fun as messing about in boats". That might be stretching the truth a bit,  but it is great fun. Just spent a very pleasant week cruising the Norfolk Broads on a hire boat with my girlfriend Megan,  my father, and my youngest son Duncan and his girlfriend Laura. Life at 3 miles per hour, alternating stopping at riverside pubs for lunch or dinner with meals cooked by Duncan and Laura is very relaxing.

A few photos to whet your appetite (sorry for bad pun).

Starting again.

Well after much talk I'm finally getting near to starting my trans-africa trip. The final plan is to do a "Cape to Cape" starting at Cape Town, South Africa and then meandering north on the bike to Egypt (and hopefully Israel if border politics permit) before heading back into Europe and heading up to North Cape in Norway. This will be a nice complement to the east-west I did across Russia and Europe in 2011.

So far the bike has been brought out of its hibernation in my father back garden, successfully test run around the UK and delivered to the shippers. All being well it will appear in Cape Town in late October.

In between now and then I have a week's boating holiday in the UK planned and then 4 weeks in a 4x4 driving around South Africa, Namibia and Botswana with my girl friend (a safer way of doing game parks than motor bike).

Last days of freedom and pleasure

The trips nearly over - a last few days of pleasure and freedom in Gibraltar, Spain, Portugal and then the trip is over.

From Morocco I did the short 2 hour crossing to Spain and immediately headed towards Gibraltar, only an hour or so's ride away.  My original intent was to stay in Gibraltar for the night but when I found the cheapest hotel there was the equivalent of $160 a night whilst it was $30 on the Spanish side of the border an economic decision was quickly made.

It did come with an unexpected extra cost - whilst I was in the hotel lobby checking in some local louts decided to push my bike over; another mirror needed!  However there was a big consolation available - my first beer for nearly a month (and some lovely Tapa's to go with it).

Gibraltar was a funny place to visit, a traffic jam of a border as all the Spanish day workers tried to get in, followed by emerging on to the exit road that ran straight across the airport runway (obviously not a huge number of flights a week) to deposit you in a tropical version of a English country town.

Felt very much like the last gasp of colonialism, especially as I rather bemusedly watched from a cafe seat the changing of the guard (all 2 of him) at the Government House.

From Gibraltar I took a quick trip across the bottom of Spain to get to Lisbon, Portugal where I was meeting my son Duncan again. On the way I saw this warning sign which appealed to me:

It was really great seeing Duncan again - hes very easy to travel around with, sharing similar interests and a similar pace to my own.  We both enjoyed Lisbon, it was an interesting city - a nice mix of restored classic buildings, modern stuff and a bit of urban grunge to show real people live there.

We also bought Duncan a bike helmet so we could go away and tour the coast and surrounding towns for a few days. A lovely way to travel together - and also confirmation that Duncan has been infected by the motorcycle bug as badly as jack and myself.

Unfortunately the days with Duncan were quickly over and then it was time to head back to Swansea to leave my bike in Swansea (again many thanks to my dad) followed by a quick trip back to London and the flight back to Australia - how quickly 7 weeks had passed.

A quick ride north

Merzouga unfortunately meant the end of my saunter around Morocco. I'd arranged to meet Duncan in Lisbon and so I now had three days to do the approximately 1000k north to the ferry back to Spain.

One pleasant unhurried day was spent riding north back over the Tizi pass and finishing near Marrakesh where I said goodbye to Craig and Jenni.

The next day was a hard slog up Morocco's main (only) freeway - just like being in Europe except locals sometimes decide the verge is a good place to graze sheep or goats, the center reservation is a good place to harvest something (never worked out what it was, but it was very popular activity) and at all times assume that if the freeway divides you from where you want to be then you just cross it like a normal road (which means without any real concern for what cars might be coming at a given moment, they'll go around you). I quickly decided riding it at night would be a risk too far. Local car drivers can also over estimate their skills, this happened just ahead of me with fortunately no one badly hurt.

The day ended with my last night in Morocco at the fishing port of Larach only a 100k or so short of the ferry port. Turned out to be a lucky choice for a final night. A small town where at night it seemed everyone promenaded on the sea front or the town square and most unusually totally ignored the tourist in their midst. I had a great night just wandering around and grazing at the food stalls. The snails in broth sold at the cart in the photo below were probably the most memorable food I had in the whole country.

The next day it's all over, a quick jaunt up the coast, a short ferry trip and suddenly I'm in Spain.

Roadside assistance- Moroccan style

We're in Merzouga a bustling, dusty, town famous for being the start of the ancient camel trains to Timbuktoo in Mali - 52 days each way. (Now there's a place I want to visit on another trip).

Now Mergouza has quite a strong tourist focus meaning the famous Moroccan hustle is quite strong here, someone is always trying to sell you something, persuade you to stay at their friends hotel, go on a tour, ride a camel etc, but after being here a while this now all much easier to deal with. A polite no thanks, keep walking and no one takes offense. You do feel sorry for people it's off-season, tourists are few and because of the European recession business has apparently been tough for a few years - the Spanish and the French who are the main stay of the trade have been coming a lot less. There is of course a plus side to a tourist town in a quiet time - good accommodation at a good price. This is where we stayed for two days post desert R&R. Not bad for the equivalent of 30euro/$45, room, dinner and breakfast.

The bike had been running really well all trip with only minor electrical niggles needing a few minutes attention. And despite all the abuse I had given it riding up mountains I should have sense to stay off and bouncing down desert tracks the only thing that had broken was one mirror mounting. Whilst wandering the market I came across a local bike shop which seemed to sell everything so I tried to get a new mount there.

No joy, nothing that would fit my bike. But this is Morocco no one let's a customer get away if they can help it, if you can't help you pass him on to some one else who may be able to. So a phone call is made and suddenly alongside me is this four wheel drive.

Turns out this guy runs a small business maintaining tourist bikes, so quick as a flash all three of us were piled into the back and of we drove to inspect my bike. Yes he has the part, so can I bring it up the workshop. Oh, and being masters of up-selling whilst I'm there, they may as well wash and polish it until it shines like it has never before in my ownership, sell me a litre of oil adjust the chain. All this was done with wonderful panache and whilst feeding me tea - three hours all told for a cost of $30.