The Long Road North Part I

The Long Road North Part I

We leave late (always a bad idea) but it can’t be helped I guess.     Trudging over the suspension bridge (I’m weighing in at an impressive 8 kilos, but Nir and Yael are carrying packs so heavy one could be forgiven for thinking they’re schlepping corpses) I take a last look over my shoulder at the Ganga.  Well, not quite.  The guys are starving and want a quick bite.  We stop at the German Bakery.  It’s almost 6pm, and I’m conscious that the sun’s going down.  The river at dusk is at its most beautiful...

Rock on in Rishikesh Part I

Rock on in Rishikesh Part I

Now I've escaped the dreaded ashram, and had several cups of cawfee, I am in remarkably cheerful spirits.  I've soon checked into the Ganga View - an unpretentious little guest house, owned by a guy called Ajay with a bloodhound called Tiger sitting by his side - a few minutes walk from the river.  It's $4 a night (the going rate) and for that I get a double bed, my own spartan bathroom (with sporadic hot water) but - most importantly of all - a fan with three different temperature speeds...

Get me to the Ganges...

Get me to the Ganges...

Off we go…and it’s not long before we’re picking up more passengers.  Schoolgirls in their blazers, pigtails tied up with ribbon, women on their way to work, and a huge “babushka” type who shoots me a toothless smile.  And it’s not long before we’re pulling into the next town.  One schlepp across the road to the next shared auto rickshaw and I know I’m on the home run...

The Temperature's Rising and it isn't Surprising...

The Temperature's Rising and it isn't Surprising...

 I am completely unfamiliar with my surroundings and stroll off down a side street, spying a cow ambling towards me.  Women are sitting on the ground all around me, surrounded by piles of zucchini, chillies, an array of tropical fruits (quite a few of which I can’t recognise), children are returning from school, neat and tidy in their white shirts and grey skirts/trousers – little bags under their arms, chattering amongst themselves...

Touchdown!

Touchdown!

At least arriving in the middle of the night means you won’t get caught up in the notorious traffic that plagues the city, both night and day.  Thirty minutes at night could be two hours in the rush hour (as I found out to my cost two years ago). People are rising from their slums at the side of the road, the chai walla is stirring his brew, small boys on their rickety bikes are wobbling by, precariously, and the city is coming to life.

The Road to Amman

The Road to Amman

After my mad dash to the border, the subsequent journey to Amman is dull in comparison, only livened up by a chance encounter with an urbane Palestinian named Ahmed.  Dapper and stylish, in a grey suit, smoking a cigarillo, we strike up a conversation at a bus break, and are soon engaged in a lively debate about...football.  He loves Man U (which would usually be enough for me to turn my back) but I'm in a generous mood - and, anyhow, my team are five days from a historic Double...

Let the Revellery Begin!

Let the Revellery Begin!

Last stop…I’m here.  Its 9.12 am…I should just be able to intercept the bus I need, which has come from Nazareth.  I reach down to grab my backpack from the luggage section and out of the corner of my eye see my Nazarene Tours bus.  It’s driving away from me, around the corner…then disappearing down the road towards Jordan.  “No….no…”I wail, to the amusement and consternation of the driver and passengers.  You see, there ain’t no taxis around and I’ve now no clear way of getting to that border.  Save hiking.  Which, of course, is what I do…

Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud...

Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud...

Consequently, we're now on the road parallel to the B8, which follows the river, only its more of a dirt track than a road and full of potholes – huge potholes that we're hitting every 30 seconds. We bumping along, being thrown around wildly, but still I'm coping. And then, without warning, we come to a halt. I look out of my window and see the wheel is encased in thick mud...

The Kindness of Strangers

The Kindness of Strangers

Over dinner, and a beer, the family ask me question after question (Why do I travel like this? Am I lonely, on the road alone? Do I want to get married? If I do marry, will I give up this nomadic lifestyle? Aren't I afraid, hitching around Africa?) I answer as best I can and then start pressing them for details of of their own life, out here in the boonies. Of course, they have plenty of good stories - camping trips out in the bush, growing up without tv, few modern appliances and a lot of electricity outages. Ah yes, and constant bouts of malaria...

The Beauty of Etosha

The Beauty of Etosha

After my intrepid hitching adventures and nights under the stars, I feel I'm due a few days of it. In the evenings, after cooking, we head off to the nearby floodlit waterhole, complete with observation platform, and one night are rewarded by sight of an elephant and her baby arriving to quench their thirsts. My only 'complaint' is that I don't get to spy a black rhino but, other than that, it is too marvellous for words...

Big Daddy - Dune Climbing at Sunrise

Big Daddy - Dune Climbing at Sunrise

I've come prepared, with a backpack full of water, a floppy hat and some serious sunscreen. And so we begin our ascent, which takes us the best part of an hour, to the first plateau. It's not as difficult as I thought it would be, though I'm glad I'm fit (and laid off the beer last night). But it's only when we start the second leg, do I realise how arduous the trek really is. I gulp at my water...

Sunset at Soussuvlei

Sunset at Soussuvlei

And then, as the sun sets, I look again, and then look once more for I cannot believe it. The dunes are now red – fire-like red, a deep and powerful red, a red so intense that it burns like a thousand suns. And though water might be scarce, in a climate where temperatures reach 45 degrees by day but drop to freezing at night, there is still life...for as I look down at my feet, I see a tiny lizard run in front of me...

Tree Graveyard in the Naukluft

Tree Graveyard in the Naukluft

We set off, trekking on foot to the Dead Man's vlei, an area so barren that even desert plants failed to grow there. Hundreds of years ago, a drought had struck and the existing habitat had been cut off from the river. Now I saw the result. Around me stood acacia and camel thorn trees scorched black by the sun. In simple terms, they were there because it was too hot for them to decompose...

Boyz in the Hood

Boyz in the Hood

Spying a tree, on the opposite side of the road, I trudge over, pull out my water bottle and settle down to wait. I drink in the solitude. Indeed, it's so peaceful, so serene, so empty that I accidentally doze off.

I am awakened with a start. A group of boys are peering over me, curiously. I reckon they're about 11-12 years old. Most are barefoot but they aren't dressed in rags and they definitely don't look malnourished. They're smiling broadly at me and laughing amongst themselves...

Thumbing it to Namibia

Thumbing it to Namibia

For the most part desolate, four times larger than the UK but with a population of scarcely 2 million people, Namibia was still not a major tourist destination when I visited there in 1997. Indeed, on my return to Europe, several people I spoke to had no idea where even to place it on the Africa map. But what did I care about its non-notoriety? I wasn’t looking for tourists, simply an adventure...