Into the Valley!!

Welcome to this tearful last post from the Valley. The bad news is that Naartjie’s doctors in Namibia phoned last week with a shocking diagnosis. While the damage to his carburettor is easily and quickly fixed, alas, he also has a suspected cracked piston (and he’s only got one) and damaged valve seats. The general consensus is that these injuries have been sustained by the frequent consumption of ‘village fuel’ in Congo and Angola, which is rumoured to be cut with butanol, palm wine or anything else that is vaguely runny.

The good news is that, instead of having a 1550km ride to finish the trip (my earlier 1200km calculation being wildly wrong), I got to have a 3100km drive instead as I had to drive up with a trailer and collect the stricken beast. Better still, I got to do it in a Mark 1 VW Golf (still manufactured in SA and called a ‘Citi’) towing a 600kg (empty) trailer. Oh joy of joys!!

Anyway, the drive up to Namibia from the Cape was a mini-adventure of its own. On day 1 I decided to take the ‘scenic route’ and ended up on an unpaved mountain pass in a rainstorm. That would have been fine, apart from the mudslides I kept having to tow the trailer through and the flooded fords in which the deck of the trailer kept vanishing under the water. After that, the road just went on and on(at 80kph, which is all the trailer-laden car could really do) until, at 1460km a cosy Namibian lay-by beckoned me in with it’s tempting gravel and picnic table. The next day saw a dawn raid on the KTM dealer in Windhoek, an emotional reunion with Naartjie and a suggested list of maintenance he might need (a complete engine rebuild, a carb rebuild, fork, shock and rear linkage rebuilds, brake overhaul, some new bodywork, new chain and sprockets, a new front wheel rim, a new exhaust system and some paint). Other than that, he’s fine.

Heading South, we crossed the tropic of Capricorn and took a celebratory photo, though having the bike lashed onto a trailer wasn’t quite the glorious passage that I’d hoped for at this point! The next morning, after some quick snoozes at the roadside, my adventure officially ended as we drove bloodied but unbowed ‘Into the Valley’.

So, what did we learn from all of the preceding shenanigans? Well, just what we all, I think, already know in our hearts – Most people in the world are good and mean well, but a few are scoundrels (though often through desperation rather than pure badness). Most people have a lot less than we do, but aren’t necessarily less happy. Many people have to endure, on a daily basis, things that make a lot of our own concerns look a trifle petty. Nearly everyone in Africa likes motorbikes. Me included.


There you have it folks – The End (until the next caper, naturally). All that remains, as with any such publication, is for me to write some credits. Here they are:

Thank you to everyone who read this Blog and whose comments and contributions gave much needed light-relief.

Special thanks to my father for his huge help in relocating my family while I was off having a joll and to Lauren and Alex for doing without a dad for nearly 3 months.

Most of all, very special thanks to Claire for making it all possible.

IntoTheValley2007 is dedicated to Africa and to the kindness of strangers.

Trucking in Nambia (and Interlude in the Valley)

Hey folks – sorry for the long delay in getting this update out. I’d like to report that I’ve been toiling in the face of terrible adversity but the fact is that I’ve been bigging it up at some local wine farms with Claire and the kids!

Anyway, here’s the news since I left you in Northern Namibia. Firstly, I was fortunate to meet a long distance lorry driver in the bar of a garden centre in Tsuemb (all good garden centres in Namibia have bars, it seems). He was heading up to the Angolan border with 32 tonnes of onions before picking up some cattle in Grootfontein and driving them, via Windhoek, all the way to Johannesburg in one session (that’s a 38 hour drive). Since I needed to get to Windhoek, he offered me a lift and we spent a couple of days hanging out doing Southern Africa trucking things – which mostly involved stopping at the roadside to make fires and cook meat, drinking beer (either by the fire or from the comfort of the cab!) and learning about ‘sails’ and ‘exhaust brakes’ and other truck-related things. As you can imagine, I now want to be a long distance lorry driver – any engine smaller than 14 litres is for pansies!

After spending a fascinating day at a huge cattle station watching the animals being branded and de-horned for export, I finally got to Windhoek and found Naartjie sitting outside the KTM dealer looking a bit sad and forlorn (okay, he’s only metal and plastic, but you’d understand if you’d seen him). Turns out that some of the parts in his carburettor have worn out (quelle surprise!) and they’ll need to get the bits from KTM in Austria. This left me looking at spending a week or two in hotels in Windhoek or, alternatively, taking some public transport to South Africa (my house is only 1200-ish km from Windhoek) and returning later to ride the last, fully paved, section of the journey. Having not seen the kids for 72 days by this point, the latter clearly won out.

The last few days have been strange – adjusting back to family life and starting to look around for some work. However, I’ve still got a section of ‘Into the Valley 2007’ to ride – and, anyway, it’s nice being home for a bit :-) Atb - Andy

PS. I’ve been to get a new camera, so come back in a couple of weeks for some Fish River Canyon photo action (hopefully!).

PPS. The first photo on this post is the last one I took in Congo before the camera died. The road is advertised on the map as a 'Primary Trunk Road', whatever that is, and there is no trick of perspective - the rut is 5 feet deep! The other photo is from Gabon and shows my GPS as we crossed the equator. Just thought I'd better prove that I haven't been making all this up!!

DRC / Angola

Well, stone me if it didn't just get all difficult! This somewhat delayed report comes direct from the lovely town of Tsuemb in northern Namibia! Naartjie is dead - or at least nearly dead. As I write this, he's being loaded onto a lorry to travel 400km south to Windhoek, where maybe the surgeons will be able to save him. I'll need to get the bus. However, I'm delighted that he broke down here in civlisation as the last 10 days in Angola and DRC would not have been good ones for a vehicular mishap.

Anyway, what's been going on since Brazzaville? Well, the ferry over the Congo to Kinshasa was a tale all of its own. As the inbound boat docked, a huge flood of filthy and ragged humanity ran off it, straight into the clutches of the waiting riot police who spent the next half hour fighting them with rubber batons. Waiting to go to the place where these people had just arrived from, I felt like a Red Army private about to cross the river to reinforce Stalingrad - well maybe not, but I was a bit scared. The boat itself took 4 hours to load and go and I sat there in my bike gear in the 37C heat getting a bit dizzy. Embarrassingly, on arrival in Kinshasa, I collapsed from dehydration and exhaustion (it having been a tough few days) and had to endure the shame of the Red Cross pulling my clothes off in public and the DRC Police tipping cold water over my head. Once I'd got my act toghether, I headed out of Kinshasa, as I still wasn't feeling tip-top and it's a big and hectic place.

The Bas-Congo region of DRC looks a lot like the UK, which is weird. It was all a bit rufty tufty, and the local ale - Turbo King - is vile and has advertising that is just a bit too macho. On the upside, I got a 5 day transit visa for Angola at Matadi, along with a decent Indian curry - wahey!

Angola was a whole new world of pain - the roads or lack of them were at least as bad as Rep. Congo - the first 70km took me a whole day and, during that time, I snapped my rear subframe, destroyed one pannier completely, broke my luggage rack, bent my shoulder and generally got into a right mess. Also, Naartjie got dragged 300m by a lorry that was supposed to be towing him - except I'd fallen off, and some local villagers were demanding USD100 to help pull him out of a mud pit until the local rozzers turned up with a Landcruiser fitted with a winch.

After that, I had some hassles in a refugee camp, saw numerous destroyed buldings, deserted villages and burned out tanks, failed totally to find an internet place and generally roughed it in a pretty squalid way. Angola is huge and when I got my 5 day visa they laughed and said I'd never make it in 5 days. Well, I rode 13 hours a day and did it in 5 1/2. The immgration officer at the Namibia border was so impressed he didn't even fine me for overstaying!! Needless to say, I've an endless supply of pub stories with which to bore you when I return.

The last day in Namibia has been a proper return to civilisation - there is water and electricity and proper food and roads. Just a pity that my buddy Naartjie has thrown the towel in...

I'll write again from Windhoek and tell you if the patient has recovered :-)

Bonjour from Brazzaville!

Well kittens, this is a hot one from the Congo and you won't believe what a task it's been to get here. Sorry there are no photos, but the camera got trashed yesterday, as did my panniers, luggage rack, various bits of the bike and my mobile phone - mostly as a result of diving repeatedly into 4 foot deep mud pits (honestly - the bike actually vanished in one of them!). Note to self - never again ride across Congo in rainy season...

So, what's been going on? Well I settled into what I thought would be an 8 day wait in Yaounde for my 3 visas. Anyway, amazingly for Africa, DRC of all places has an express visa service where you can pay an extra tenner and get it in 3 hours rather than 3-4 days - result! The visas were eye-wateringly expensive, the worst being Congo at 70 quid! It made the USD100 visa for Nigeria look like a bargain. I mean 70 quid to visit a place with no roads - and I didn't even get a free t-shirt.

Anyway, banking my time-saving (as I'm missing the family, having been at this malarky for 57 days on the trot) I sped off at warp speed to Gabon, crossing the Equator and doing 650km on perfect roads through the most lovely rainforest in one day. I have the pics to prove it, if the memory card in the camera isn't trashed too. Sadly, there is a North-South divide in Gabon as was proven when the perfect road just ended the next day. Honestly, I thought I'd taken a wrong turn. One minute Alpine-quality road, the next minute the barest of dirt tracks.

I got to Ndende, the last town in Gabon on Saturday afternoon and foolishly though that would be a good time to cross the border. The Gabon police were very nice - the Chief drove around the town picking up his colleagues so they could open the station and do my paperwork! The last 40km to the border itself was down what can only be described as a dirt path! Anyway, once I got to the red, yellow and green metal pole indicating that it was Congo (Republic of) and filled in the same details in 4 different books it was getting a bit dusky. My map said that the next town was 50km, but the Gendarmes told me that it would take 4 hours. Luckily, I didn't scoff at the idea and instead took them up on their kind offer of camping at the border post and having a bucket shower in the head-Gendarme's house.

Sunday and Monday were the hardest days of off-road riding I've ever done. It poured down in that tropical way all Saturday night and I spent the next day slithering all over slimy clay, getting stuck in huge truck ruts and generally falling off as my road tyres were giving no grip at all. Yesterday (Monday) was, if anthing even worse. The ground has softened to deep deep mud and I drowned the bike once and got deeply mired more than I can remember (with luggage and fuel Naartjie weighs about 250kg, which is a lot to pull out of a muddy hole by yourself when you are waist deep in water and wearing leather trousers).

The upshot of all of this was that, last night, some 40km short of the nearest town, it was getting dark and I rode right into another deceptive mud pit just outside a village. I kid you not, it took the whole village to get the bike out - but the people were fabulous. They insisted I stay the night, which was just as well as I could barely stand and took me off to see the Cheif. He was great and told one of the Elders to take me to the washing place as I was filthy. There then followed a 20 minute walk with a kerosene lamp into the jungle (seriously!) to a place where the stream had been barricaded. The 'washing place' had a zinc board (to stand on, I think - well that's what I did with it!), a big round stone, a big pointy stone (no idea wht these were for) and 2 buckets. I can honsetly say it was the strangest shower of my life, as the Elder slipped modestly in the bushes to wait and I stood there in the buff with my Neutrogena and 2 oddly shaped stones!

After camping in my manky, waterlogged tent, I set off at dawn, having given the villagers a couple of little presents from my meagre surviving gear, getting the last 100km to Brazza by last morning.Gosh, what a surprise. It's really quite a nice place, despite recently being voted the second worse place in the world to live, I hear (after Baghdad). The rest of the day has been spent eating omelette (20 minutes) and doing repairs to Naartjie (six hours on a petrol station forecourt!!!). Until you've adjusted the valve clearances of a KTM 640 Adventure surrounded by a group of Congolese taxi drivers, you've never lived :-)

Remember folks, I'm doing this so that you don't have to! Tomorrow, I'm hoping to cross over to Kinshasa, capital of DRC (which from this side of the river looks also nicer than it's reputed to be) and from there head for the Angolan border where I hear I might get a 5 day transit visa - if I'm lucky...

Once final thing - Congo has the best-named beer in the world - 'Ngok' - which means Crocodile if the picture on the bottle is anything to go by! It's really very nice.

Cameroon, the muddy way

Hey folks - well, I survived the first round of the Nigerian general election and escaped over the border to Cameroon in time for the second vote, which is today. The bad news is that the Angolan embassy wouldn't give me a visa - some new rule, which I'm sure they made up on the spot! Instead, I was told to apply in Congo. Lucky white heather.

My ride South from Abuja was mildly interrupted by the aftermath of a riot in Lafia, with the streets still strewn with burning tyres and loads of unhappy looking people standing about. I picked up a couple of slow punctures in my front tyre from the debris, but didn't hang around to change the tube!

The next day, I was waved down by a plain clothes 'Security Officer' with no ID who demanded to see 'all my valid papers'. Needless to say I rode off at speed but was surprised and alarmed to find him following me in his car. The only course of action was to race to the nearest police checkpoint and dob him in, but amazingly he'd had the same idea and, between us, we nearly ran the duty officer over. Luckily, none of the police knew the 'Security Officer' and were, I think a little sceptical of his authenticity, so 1-0 to me. However, my adversary got a late equaliser when I introduced myself as 'Andy' and handed the police my passport, which says 'Andrew'. Apparently it's a Federal offence in Nigeria to give a false name to a police officer. I think I must have turned quite pale when they told me this, as they then just laughed and waved me on. The rest of the ride to Calabar was scenic and mercifully uneventful as my nerves were a bit shot by then!! To be fair though, everyone else I met in Nigeria has been pretty sound.

After enduring a day of beaurocracy getting my Cameroon visa, I headed for the border on the 'less used' Ekang route. Man, it was beautiful - rolling rainforest all the way. Sadly, the road got a bit erm, rutted toward the frontier - see bottom pic. The border crossing, which consisted of two houses divided by a rickety bridge with 2 gates on it was a scoosh and I rode off into the jungle on a narrow dirt road in a cloud of butterflies - cool.

The scenery in Western Cameroon was even better, with tea plantations, rainforests and teeny villages all at 1500m-plus above sea level. Cor blimey - awesome. I've put up a pic, but it doesn't do it justice. The only downside seems to be some of the local food, as Bushmeat rules in Cameroon. So, far I've resisted the temptation, but my resolve is weakening. 'Mine's a tortoise and frites, hold the shell...'

Today, we've reached the coastal village of Kribi. There is apparently a nice waterfall that flows into the sea nearby, so I'm off to get my Timotei in a minute. The coming week is set to be a visa-fest in Yaounde as I need to get visas for Gabon, Congo and DRC there. Then it's South baby - hopefully!

Thanks as ever for the comments :-)

Election time

Hey folks - well, I've got to Nigeria, one of the bits of the trip I was most worried about (along with DRC and Angola) and I've only gone and barged into the middle of their general elections! There were 65 people (at least) killed in rioting last night as the usual evidence of election rigging became apparent, so I'm consulting anyone who'll listen to get the best route options from Abuja, where I presently am to Calabar on the Cameroon border.

One the upside, with the possible exception of Lagos, which still has it's old Mad Max charm, I'm finding the country and people surprisingly pleasant. So far, I've been waved through every AK47-fest of a police checkpoint with a smile, entertained at the house of a government vet (pic above) and escorted through the (beautiful) hinterlands of the country by a federal official on his way home for the election hols.

On the downside, I'm now stuck in Abuja waiting for things to reopen so I can apply for an Angola visa (a hard thing for us UK peeps to get, and only really an option from Nigeria). Having said that, the beer is cold and the taxi drivers are amusing. Nobody believes that I rode Naartjie down from the UK, so that's fun too.

Since the last post, Naartjie has had a good seeing-to (and a new tyre) at Toni-Togo, a KTM dealer in, erm, Togo (pic of Naartjie in the buff above) and I've caught fleas in some vile hotel in Benin. However, it's all good 'cos there is (strangely) an empty and working fridge/freezer in my hotel room, and I read somewhere that fleas are best frozen to death. As such, I've been putting all my clothes and my helmet in the freezer and nothing itches any more!

On a personal note, I'm both delighted and sad that it's my daughter Lauren's birthday tomorrow (16th). She'll be 3 and I'm sad that I won't be there. So, Happy Birthday Pop! Daddy Loves You.

As for the rest of you, well I at least like you. Next stage is hopefully Cameroon and then Gabon. After that, time for some Congo action - but there are many miles between here and there.

All the best - A

Oh Crikey, it's Togo!

Well groovers, this update comes hot and direct from the improbably narrow land of Togo. I actually had to turn sideways to get through the border and Naartjie has had to stay in Ghana as he won't fit. The days since the last update have been filled with tropical-weather action, mostly involving constant reminders of how bad a choice it was to use leather riding pants every time it rains.

After a few days in charming Burkina Faso, I headed for the Ghanain border with other Brit-In-Africa rider Paul Hurcomb who I'd met again in Ouagadougou, or 'Waga' as everyone seems to call it. Alas, he didn't have a visa, so they sent him avay with a mosquito in his ear to go and get one. Meanwhile, I (bravely and manfully, I might add) soldiered on into the amazingly undeveloped hinterlands of Northern Ghana where roads haven't yet been invented. The ride south to Accra saw things getting greener and lusher and more and more developed until, by the time I got there, I thought I'd got lost and ended up in Penrith. Accra really is a proper metropolis - with unleaded petrol and everything!! The only slightly alarming event en route was when I accidentally spent the night in a brothel, as it was the only roadside hotel about. I thought it was a bit odd when the lady asked how many hours I wanted the room for.

Anyway, next job was securing the dreaded Nigerian visa. This is the subject of many travel-forum horror stories but turned out to be quite easy, if a bit expensive at USD100 for a single entry 14 day visa. Spurning the Rastas and musicians of the Ghanain coastal resorts (not my cup of Oolong, old chap) I headed East and squeezed into Togo.

The capital, Lome is unique in West Africa having a KTM dealership, which apparently opens on Monday. As such, I'm hatching plans of buying a new back tyre and getting Naartjie serviced. As with all things in Africa though, you can't count your chickens.

Next plans are to blast through Benin, and head for Nigeria. Have to admit, I'm a wee bit nervous about the next bit of the adventure but as Claire and the kids are South, it's South I must go. Meanwhile, here is a pic of Africa made out of shells. Its was proudly shown to me by a Togolese shingle farmer yesterday, who insisted I share it with the world.

Best wishes to you all. Thanks for the comments and Haikus. Keep 'em coming :-)

Ouagadougou the noo!

Yo dudes - well, gosh its been a busy week or so. If I hadnt had Timmy the dog for company and lashings and lashings of homemade ginger beer, I dont know what Id have done. Actually, the only lashing Ive had was a verbal one from the customs official in Timbuktu for not having the paperwork for Naartjie in order, but thats another story.

So, whats been going on? Well, I escaped Nouakchott and got to Bamako in Mali in 2 long days with some more clandestine bush camping en route. Mali is ace, as we would have said in 1986. Here are 4 key things I observed there:

1. Mali is a nation of motorcyclists - which was a nice surprice. Everyone seems to have a bike of some sort, be it a Chinese copy of a CG125 or a metallic pink moped that isnt a copy of anything. Cool.

2. Beer is plentiful and quite cheap. Cool.

3. Claire will kill me for saying this, but Malian women are very beautiful. I dont think its so much about how they look, but the graceful way they glide along when either walking or on pink mopeds. They even look graceful when carrying a bucket of water on their heads. Cool.

4. There is a really big river in Mali that is confusingly called the Niger [which is also the name of a country]. Someone told me that it doesnt flow into the sea, and instead has an inland delta, whatever that is. Im not sure I believe them - its extraordinarily big, so the water must go somewhere!

Anyway, we [me and Naartjie] rode from Bamako on to Segou, Mopti and Douentza, before taking the hellishly-corrugated 200km piste up to Timbuktu. I have to confess that Timbuktu was a bit of a disappointment, though I did see the house were Gordon Laing, Queen Victorias envoy, stayed for 3 days in 1826 before the locals killed him. There was also a big mosque made of mud that they have to rebouild every year. And lots of souvenir sellers. And not enough tourists for all the souvenir sellers!

After that, it was a ferry back across the Niger [did I mention how big it is?] and home to Douentza, where I stayed at the excellent Chez Jerome run by an ex Paris-Dakar Rally racer called, erm, Jerome. On the way back to Doutentza, on the Tibuktu piste, where there had been almost no traffic, I met another British motorcyclist! His name is Paul Hurcomb, and hes also heading South. Bizarre. Anyway, were planning a meet up later this week to reminisce about mushy peas.

The next day, I did an awesome piste from Doutentza to Koro along the side of the Bandiagara escarpement and through Dogon country. The Dogon villages were amazing and the ride was a real high-point.

Now its Burkina Faso [formerly Upper Volta for the older reader]. Currently waiting for a visa for Ghana [wasnt in the original plan, but I quite fancy a change from trying to speak French]. The exotically named capital, Ouagadougou is pretty cool, though I did get lightly run over by a moped this morning.

Hope all is well and, if anyone is still reading, cheers!

(Btw, the pic here is of the result of some slightly over-zealous parking by a lorry getting onto the Timbuktu ferry.)

Piste again!

Wahey! Well, we made the piste from Nouadhibou with 250ml of fuel to spare... It was a great ride, with a section of dunes Id been dreading proving to actually be a more or less gently undulating sand sheet, though it did go on for 50 miles. Since then, its been food poisoining, bike repairs and sleep. Now in Nouakchott, Malian visa in hand.

Tomorrow, we blow this popstand and its next stop Timbuktu (unless I get lost). More news to follow. A :-)

En Mauritanie!

Hey up! First, thanks for the posts - its great to hear from everyone. Missing you all, though to varying degrees!

Yesterday I finished the butt-numbing 1500kms from Agadir through Western Sahara, so Im delighted to be reporting from the green and lush town of Nouadhibou in Mauritania. Actually, the only green things here are the national flag and the meat. On the good side, the border crossing from Morocco is bordering on slick, compared to how it was first timle I came here - only 1 1/4 hours for the whole thing, as opposed to 6 last time. The journey through Western Sahara is just as empty as ever, though there now 3 petrol stations between the Dakhla fork and the border - a fact that will be of interest to precisely nobody! Spend a great night on the beach in on the way down, with Naartjie disguised as an old carpet in the interests of keep a low profile.

Today Im setting out on the 540km piste to Atar - this being the longest single offroad stretch oif the journey. There is now fuel at Bou Lanouar, I hear, so that takes the edge off my fuel-range worries. Next post, hopefully, with dramatic pics, from Atar or Nouakchott. Stay tuned :-)

Out on the Piste!

Yo dudes, well as promised Im writing with tales of unplanned excursions into the scenery! Starting to learn that motorcycle overlanding and desert biking are different and not entirely complimentary activities! Having had reasonable success on some open trails in Eastern Maroc (as the French call it) I thought Id tackle the 250km run from Rissani to Zagora. Everything was going fine til I realised that Id forgotten to fit my offroad tyres. The simple act of remembering this fact sent me and Naartjtie flying into a heap on a sandy berm. That was fine and, dare I say to be expected, except with all the gear, I could hardly pick him up. Anyway, first crash over - almost a baptism - I carried on, knackered and concentrating on not falling off again, as it was sore. Alas, minor considerations such as navigating went out of the window and, before long, I realised I was on the wrong track and heading in the wrong direction. Sadly, there is no TomTom in this neck of the woods, so the only thing you can do is turn round and go back to the place where you were last not lost. Except, I didnt. Instead, (to my eternal shame) in my addled state, I asked my newfangled routing-GPS to plot an intercept course over the seemingly flat plain to the next correct waypoint on my route. Alone and off-piste! What a pillock!

Anyway, before too long, I was marooned on a plain, surrounded by uncrossable wadis and completely lost. Yep - the GPS told me exactly where I was, but without good terrain info on my map, that was no help at all! So I learned the hard lesson, as one German rider I once met put it 'the GPS tells you exactly where you die'.

OK, so I didnt croak, but it took 4 hours of blundering around and picking up my 250kg monster to find a way out.

Since then, its been much better. Ive put my GPS away and have been using map and sun only, and weve done some great pistes. Today, after an 11 hour marathon, weve reached the coastal resort of Agadir - in time for a beer before the Big Ride South. Speak to you next from Maurtania - inshallah!

Hurricane Naartjie!

Yo dudes - well its my first post-departure message and Ive made it to Africa! Currently in Chefchouan in the Rif Valley - keeping up the theme - in Morocco. Excuse any typos - its a johnny-foreigner keyboard and all the letters have rubbed off too. Left blighty on the ferry on Monday and arrived 3 days later in Spain - getting stuck in hurricane force winds in the bay of Biscay. They closed the port at Bilbao as some ships had broken their moorings and it was ship-soup in there. On board there was puke as far as the eye could see - and that was just the crew. Anyway, got to Spain eventually and hit the road. Need to learn Spanish food words for next trip as accidentally ordered tripe and then veal, hoping it would be something else entirely.

The view up here is fab - Id post a pic but there is no USB port on this PC. Naartjie is running a dream and tommorow we get to our first off-road section where Ill fall off and feel like a prat. After that, Ill slink shame-faced back to a PC and tell you all about it.

Only another 20,000 or so Kms to go!

Oh Jeepers!

Well, I leave the day after tomorrow and I've just had my FIRST ride on the fully-laden beast. With planning skills like that, I'm glad that I'm not a project manager.

As expected, with the fully packed panniers, camping gear bag, overloaded tank bag and 2x replacement tyres, Naartjie handles like a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. Still, I'm sure that we'll be able to find things to give/throw away as the journey progresses. Just need to avoid buying a carpet in Morocco.

While on the subject of heavily laden motorcycles, I thought I'd take the time to introduce Naartjie properly, as he's my sole travelling companion. Based on the safe belief that the people who design these bikes know best, I've left him as standard as possible. However, I did make just a few tweaks in preparation for this trip. For anyone with an anorakish interest in these things, here's what they are:

Bodywork: Frame and headlight protectors. High mudguard conversion using a conversion kit designed for the KTM 950 Adventure, but which works like a charm. Marvellous SW-Motech rallye bash plate with tool boxes - great for moving some weight down.

Breathing: KTM SXC aluminium sliencer, 162.5 main jet, hardparts airbox screen, needle clip moved to position 4. I left the SLS valve in place as I figured I'd only make a mess of deactivating it.

Suspension: Trying to keep the thing balanced, but able to take a bit more weight, I changed the rear spring to an 8kg/mm one and also replaced the fork springs with 0.50 kg/mm ones. So, overall about 15% stiffer than standard. As the forks are upside-downies, I also fitted some neoprene stanchion protectors to try to keep the seals as clean as possible.

Wheels: Following posts on forums like Advrider, I changed the standard Behr rims, which are widely thought to be quite soft, with Takasago Excels. While doing this, it was cost-effective to fit some lovely new gold-anodised Talon hubs with stainless spokes, so I did.

Drive train: In the interests on long life, it's steel sprockets all round (std. KTM ones) and a new DID X-ring Gold chain. I've used these chains on all my trips and they've always lasted well.

Other: Not much. GPS mount, filter on carb breather hose, KTM/Touratech alu. lugage system, tank bag.

Anyway, the next time I write it will be from the open road, or at least an internet cafe alongisde the open road. Hope everyone is well. Take care. Andy.

Wobble avoidance

Hi again. Well its now less than 2 weeks before the off. The bike is down at Triple-D Motosport in Kendal having a service. I normally service my own bikes, but before a motorcycle trip a few years ago I got into a pre-trip maintenance flap and it all went wrong. I thought I'd recount the tale here for fun:

It was December 2000 and it was 2 am. I was lying in bed thinking about the next day's departure for a bike ride from the Scottish Borders to Dakar with a friend. It was our first 'independent' bike adventure and I was worried. The bikes were going to break down in the middle of nowhere and that would be that - I'd have to eat my friend. As the night wore on I pondered the exact mechanism of my future-demise and somehow came to the conclusion that my clutch would burn out. There was no rational reason for this as the bike was an XR600R with a tough clutch and, anyway, it was pretty new.

As if by some sort of malign autosuggestion, I remembered that I had a new set of spare clutch plates in my 'spare parts pile'. Quick as a flash I was out of bed and heading for the garage in my boxers and dressing gown. By now it was about 3 am and I only had 4 hours to change the clutch, have breakfast and hit the road. The good news was that we were getting a lift down to Portsmouth in a van to save our knobbly tyres on the roads a bit. So, the clutch was changed in record time and my dressing gown was ruined but I was at peace with the world...

Two days later, we were riding off the ferry in Bilbao. I'd like to say that the sun was shining, but it wasn't. I didn't care though, I was off to Africa. By this time, I'd only ridden about 500 metres from the van to the ferry in the UK - but I just knew that all was well with the bike - it felt goooood. I rode down the ramp with my riding buddy and a bunch of new biker friends we'd made on the ferry and we hit the road.

The air was cold that morning - except on my leg where it was a bit warm as a stream of hot oil wept from the clutch cover and was being blown all over my boots and trousers. By this time, I was being flashed by the bike behind me which was also getting covered in oil. I pulled over. I'd broken down after less than 10km - all as a result of unwittingly tearing the clutch cover gasket during my midnight service-frenzy. To this day, I can't describe what a turkey I felt.

So, as you grow older you need to learn from your mistakes. Sadly, I didn't as I managed another early breakdown caused by over-zealous preparation (to be followed by a few other technical problems) on the 2003 Desert Riders Project with Jon Escombe and Chris Scott. This time, I have learned. The bike stays at Triple-D. Cheers for now Andy :-)

Welcome to the Valley...

Welcome to my Blog. I'm Andy Bell and this is the diary of my solo motorcycle ride from the UK to South Africa via the West coast of Africa. I'll be leaving the Breamish Valley in Northumberland, UK on 4th March and hope to arrive in the Breede Valley in Western Cape, South Africa in mid-June.

My planned route takes me through Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Congo, DRC, Angola and Namibia. Of course, I'll probably get lost and end up in Russia.

I'll be riding my 2004 KTM 640 Adventure, which is called 'Naartjie'. It's a really garish orange colour, so you'll be able to follow our progress on Google Earth.

At the moment, the pre-departure preparations continue apace. I'll write just before I set off with news of how they all went! Andy :-)