“Kumba Lodge? It’s another five to ten minutes walking your bikes. It’s gonna be worth it!” a bearded man with a South African accent yells from his garden. We are pushing our bikes on the sandy road to our destination. Our beaming cheerleader takes another puff on his fat joint before adding “and you can watch the great sunset on your way!”
Upon leaving the shores of the Zambezi River a couple of weeks ago, we hoped to visit Gorongosa National Park. It’s glorious history, devastation during the civil war and phenomenal restauration since 2004 tickled our imagination and is the biggest reason why we included Mozambique on our itinerary. Gorongosa is also at the southern end of the Great Rift Valley, a geographical feature we’ve been loosely following since the Jordan River and Dead Sea!
From the park’s gate our next aim would be to reach the Indian Ocean. Mozambique’s historical transportation development was made in relation to its western neighbours. Roads, railways and ports were constructed primarily to service the trade and transport needs of South Africa, Zimbabwe and Malawi. Because of this, the country has well-developed east-to-west rail and road systems that link its ports with the key industrial and mining regions of these countries. By contrast, there are few roads oriented north-south. The obvious choice is a long-haul south on N1, the infamous road feared by drivers. Apparently, potholes are as deep as the Marianas Trench! Echoes of a bumpy shortcut to the beach! “It”s gonna be worth it!”
A few pedal strokes out of Caia, Pierre prepares the scene for a self-timer selfie! Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Wood harvesting on N1. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Thirty-one kilometres south of Caia, we arrive at M’phingwe Camp and promptly sit at the outdoor dinning room for burger and fries—the best we’ve had in Africa and we eat “chips” or batatas everyday or twice a day since landing in Dar es Salaam! Then, through the dry forest, we follow a path to the fabrica. About twenty small buildings are scattered in a yard where tree trunks are skinned, sliced, dried and cut. Bee hives and school desks are being built. We are buzzed from the energetic hard-work at every station when Ant White stops his work at a tablesaw and comes over to introduce himself. “You’re on bicycles? I know a psychiatrist, he could help you!”
The eighty years old Zimbabwean, with his wife Patricia, manage the Catapu Forest Reserve, a 250-sq-km sustainable forestry concession, mostly exploiting African blackwood (Dalbergia melanoxylon). For every tree fallen and harvested they plant four more. “How did you end up in the Mozambican bush?”, we ask. “Well, I was in Burundi thirty years ago. I was importing gold and cobalt from Zaire, what we now call the DRC. Then I would export the gold to Switzerland and the cobalt to Rotterdam. In short, I did a favour to a Lam Airlines pilot who was in a pickle over there and he invited me to Maputo. Then I got offered a job in the forestry industry here.”, he explains before adding “let’s see you at breakfast tomorrow, at six” The man looks like he is made of the hardwood he works with everyday. We silently hope to be as vital and go-getters octogenarians!
With so many tools available we ask to shorten our handle bars, something we have been wanting for many weeks. A little buffing to finish the job! Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
A cold 2M Beer (pronounced dosh-em) to quench your thirst on Estrada Nacional No1. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
The head-carrying women of Africa. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
On a list of shortcuts, the “Piro Road” is a picturesque one. Starting on N1 twelve kilometres after Nhamapaza, it meanders between Mount Gorongosa and the National Park crossing clear rivers before reaching 500m.a.s.l. and descending to Vila Gorongosa. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
In the small village of Vinduzi, we stop at the local primary school to request permission to camp for the night. The young man present doesn’t have the authority and sends us accross the road to the police camp. The first policeman we talk to doesn’t have the authority and we have to wait for his older colleague. The older officer doesn’t have the authority and we wait for the mayor. The mayor arrives on his motorbike, listens to our demand and calls his superior! Once permission is granted, there is a committee deciding on the location of our tent for the night. A drunk neighbour thinks it would be better to camp under a spotlight by his house, the policemen think maybe closer to their mud shack. It’s getting dark, we are hungry and tired. “Senhores! We will sleep right here, ok?” we announce showing exactly where we have been standing for an hour. This pleases everyone and settles the debate. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Closer to Mount Gorongosa the rivers have cool and crystal clear waters. It’s time to fill up our water bottles. Our trusted MSR Guardian purifier does its daily job of removing all viruses, bacteria and protozoa. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
The winward south-east face of Mount Gorongosa (1,863 meters). Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Mount Gorongosa is an inselberg, an isolated massif rising from the Rift Valley floor. The upper zone of the mountain, with its unique montane rainforest, is now integrated into Gorongosa National Park. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Gorongosa National Park had golden years from its creation in 1960. The varied terrain and seasonal flooding supported some of the densest wildlife population in all of Africa. After the Mozambican Civil War started in 1977 RENAMO (Mozambican National Resistance) took over the region. Gorongosa saw fierce battles between opposing forces. Both sides of the conflict slaughtered hundreds of elephants, exchanging the ivory for weapons and ammunition. Mammals were killed to feed soldiers and population. Poaching continued well after the cease-fire of 1992 and several species were reduced to local extinction.
Since 2004 the Government of Mozambique and the US-based Carr Foundation have been at work restoring the park’s wildlife and growing the economic security of the population along its boundaries, to curb poaching. And it works! Gorongosa is a phoenix rising and we are at its imposing gate. We are aware cyclists are not allowed on the 18-kilometre stretch from here to the park’s headquarters and campgound at Chitengo. Apparently elephants traumatized during the war attack cars and humans. Some that are older than 30 have holes in their majestic ears, from bullets.
It is not too difficult to hitch a ride in the back of a park employee’s pick up truck and soon we are walking towards a fancy game viewer vehicle where other tourists are sitting. While we hesitate a moment—is this our 3pm departure?—a side door opens and a thick Afrikaaner accented voice shouts “Hop in! It’s not a bicycle but you’ll be alright!” Johan and Piet, and both their wives. are sitting up front while a couple from Idaho is behind us. It is soon apparent that we are not amongst tourists after all, but passionate wildlife and fauna experts. With an encyclopedic knowledge of the African bush they point and name every bird, every type of antelope, and trees, flowers, fruits. Why this habitat sustains so many waterbucks, and how much baboons enjoy marula fruits. And it goes on. We get an education while sighting nyalas, kudus, impalas, elands, duikers, waterbucks, warthogs (also by our tent at the campground), a mongoose and a civet, Goliath herons, crocodiles, hippos and others. When we come face to face with an enormous African elephant flapping its ears everyone in the vehicle becomes a statue except Johan. He is twisted around looking by the vehicle’s rear wheel while I tap him on the shoulder and mounth e-le-phant. “Elephant? Pfff, I don’t care, this iguana is the biggest one I’ve ever seen!”, he retorts. I can only guess that the joly South African might not have had a tear in his eye when further down the road a mother elephant, covered in river mud, hovered over her baby while staring us down, tail up, trumpeting warnings not to come closer…but I did!
Taxi from Gorongosa National Park’s gate to Chitengo camp. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Gorongosa sun-down game drive
The Pungwe River flows from Zimbabwe’s Eastern Highlands through Mozambique where it forms the southern boundary of Gorongosa National Park before reaching the Mozambique Channel at Beira, the southernmost portion of the Great Rift Valley. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
“Tem tomates?” “Sim, tenho tomates!’ Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Fixing potholes for donations on N1. Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
The heat of the electoral campaign is intensifying. FRELIMO have gone from a nationalist movement fighting for the independence of Mozambique from Portugal in 1962 to a Marxist-Leninist party in 1977. Now a democratic socialist party it has dominated in every election since 1994. It’s main opponent is RENAMO, former guerilla resistance founded by anti-communists in 1977. RENAMO changed its image as an international pariah known for burning schools and health clinics and became a legitimate political party after the civil war. Lots of enthusiasm on rebranding old names! Republic of Mozambique, Manica Province.
Parts of the N1 getting a much needed facelift! Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Riding washboards through the sunbaked and inhospitable Mozambique plain. The temperature rises to 38 degrees Celsius in the shade. Shade? Republic of Mozambique, Sofala Province.
Reed poles for sale. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
In Tanzania it is called ugali, in Malawi nsima and in Mozambique we call it xima. The thick porridge of corn flour mixed with water is a staple food, served with meat, vegetables and sauces. A mortar and pestle is used by girls and women to pound maize into flour. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
Fresh baked bread accounts for many of our calories in Mozambique. Early morning at the padaria the mood is festive. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
A few kilometres after Massinga we stop for the obligatory selfie at the Tropic of Capricorn. Coming from an arid tropical climate coconut trees now signal our arrival in the humid coastal zone. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
There is bread for sale across the road, the bar has beer and eggs. Lunch time on N1! Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
FRELIMO flags flying in Maxixe. With one week left on our Mozambican visas we decide to visit Maxixe’s Provincial Migration Directorate for an extension. It is late afternoon and we are told to come back in the morning with a bunch of photocopies of our documents and a letter—in Portuguese—that explains why we need more time. The next day I spend 6 hours standing in front of the main desk, after our photos, fingerprints and payment have been taken. Witness against my will to the organised chaos of citizens coming to request passports, others picking them up, foreigners trying to navigate the paperwork to live and work in the country, from South African sunbirds and missionaries to Chinese businessmen and Spanish nuns. Apparently our visas have not been registered properly upon our entry in Milange and they need to redo them before issuing our prorrogaçao. “Please, come back tomorrow morning”, we are told again. On the third day around 11 am, a young officer comes around the counter with our two passports in hand, both adorned with full-page colored visas valid until October 24th! Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
It’s on a pedestrian ferry that we cross Inhambane Bay, from Maxixe to Inhambane Peninsula. The wind is blowing abnormaly hard and we are grateful for the sturdy ship, the small dhows crossing the bay since our arrival in Maxixe—during our lenghty stay at the municipal campground between the immigration office’s hours of operation—do little to inspire confidence. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
Inhambane is one of the oldest settlements on Mozambique’s eastern coast. There is evidence that Persians, Hindus and Arabs trading networks were active in the Bay before the Portuguese reached the place—from the 11th century. The old Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception cathedral was built during the 19th century, during the Portuguese East Africa. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
“It’s gonna be worth it!”, we were assured a few minutes before reaching Kumba Lodge. More than 4,500 kilometers from the second stage’s starting line, in Dar es Salaam, we are stopping over amidst the breathtaking dunes of Tofo Beach. Clouds are gathering over the Indian Ocean for the first storm of the trip. After pushing our bikes to a garden bungalow we sit in the airy dining room and order a bottle of rosé, fresh oysters, grilled fish and matapa—gound cassava leaves with garlic, onion and coconut milk—and enjoy while the harvest moon rises over the surf. Four days later it’s with a heavy heart, and a feeling we will be back here one day, that we leave our plush king-sized bed and sit down on our bike saddles. Republic of Mozambique, Inhambane Province.
