Wallis On Wheels Big Bicycle Adventure

• Part 1: Northern border to Luanda.

Led to the D.R.C. border by a few guys from the Primus / Coke depot I was helped out with an issue that someone else said may cause a problem.


First my passport was handed to someone for inspection. To me the procedure seemed obvious enough; check to make sure the visa is still valid, check the entry date and ensure the date I’m leaving is ok. But Mr. ‘big’ seemed hell bent on finding a mistake, no doubt looking for a way to some of my dollars. Meticulously inspecting every page as though containing unsolved mathematical equations. Unable to find his next meal ticket it’s over to the border post. It’s here where the officials said I needed documentation for the bicycle as [apparently] all goods entering and leaving the country have to have paperwork. I argued the point that if this was the case why was I not asked for such paperwork on entry into D.R.C? Another good try for some dollars? A few minutes of raised voices, flared tempers and disapproval things calm down when the chief said I was OK to continue and just needed to show the contents of my panniers…. to ensure I wasn’t stealing the countries crown jewels. 10 metres from the D.R.C border and I’m at the Angolan one, into the town of Noqui.

The ‘lad’ who stamped me in resembled a school boy more than an official. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with a rucksack on his back it looked like he was on his way to class. All the same I’m now officially in the next country. The lad said Luanda was 800km away and to get there in five days on ‘bicycleta’ would not be easy. I new for sure it wasn’t that far, more like 500km, another oh-so familiar case of locals knowing bugger-all when it comes to directions and distances.



There’s always slight a change, or something new I notice when going from one country to another, the buildings, or the food, but here I notice a new brand of motorbike, a Chinese ‘alternative’ copy to a big Japanese brand. Later that day I also saw a 'Keweseki' motobike!!The currency in Angola is the Kwanza; ~152 Kwanzas = £1.00.



The Map showed the route I’d be heading down as a white road, i.e., not tarmac, but if it was flat I could at least aim for 100km days. Unfortunately the hills kept coming and coming with no end in sight, but after being stuck in the madness of Kinshasa it was a relief to be back in the open country, with just an occasional vehicle passing, so the hills seemed all-the-more worthwhile.
 

 


 


He was carrying a huge, heavy bundle of ~8mm wire rope, bad news for the bike, real bad news. Just laying the bicycle on-top, with the panniers unclipped and laid behind the cabin of we went. As my Chinese was the same level as their English conversation was severely limited. I think they were in a rush as he drove at break-neck speed, causing his colleague and me to get air-borne in the cabin as he sped over bumps and gulleys, the poor bike being tossed around like a ping-pong ball.

Later, stopped for a break I notice the contents of my handle-bar bag had come out; my passport, camera, Portuguese translation book and calculator all gone. Luckily I found them rolling around the open flat-bed truck, not realising he was also carrying a ‘split’ bag of cement all my ‘loose’ items now covered in cement dust, and jammed under the rolls of wire rope. Luck to actually still have it, the passport was ok, the camera shutter was jammed and would not turn on so useless, the water bottles had all come off the bike and jammed under the weight of the steel wire-rope, scared and scratched, but luckily were ok and had no holes – though all empty of water, the calculator solar-panel was cracked and also useless (I carried this to help confirm prices when buying things and also when money exchanging), Severe scratches down to bare metal on the bike frame (chain-stay and seat-post stay). Right hand pedal bashed in. I thought about ‘jumping ship’ and continuing by bike but as I now had no water things could get worse. Luckily finding some rope in the back I tied the bike down to prevent further damage.

At mid-night we finally arrived at their destination, a compound in a suburb, about 30km from Luanda. Fortunately they had spare beds here so I stayed the night. The next day I looked at the bike and felt so sorry for it. Covered in a layer of cement dust, scratches that looked like it had been attacked with a rasp file. The left-hand side bottom bracket cup was loose, one damaged (still useable) pedal. The handle-bar foam was grey from cement dust, torn and in tatters from the wire-rope. The left-hand brake lever also marked from wire-rope rubbing against it. The frame-mounted pump squashed in the middle so also useless. I felt guilty just looking at it. Like the bike was a sad eyed dog looking up to its master wondering why it had been so severely punished. Several hours of cleaning and servicing and it looked better, telling my steel friend it would receive a no-expense-spared make-over upon return to U.K….there’s still another big tour to come!

• Part 2: Luanda to Lobito.

Luanda, like all other big cities proved to be a hectic, noisy concrete jungle. The first job was to find the immigration office and extend / renew the visa, hopefully for a 30 day tourist one. Fortunately I was kindly led to the new immigration office by a lady in her car and used her phone to call Jorge, the Couchsurfer host ( http://www.couchsurfing.org/ ) who’s flat I would be staying at. He soon turned up and really helped out with matters as my visa had now expired.

To try and avoid the $100.00 / day fine he told the top-dog there that later I had an interview with a local newspaper and TV, and fining me would be bad publicity. This worked wonders as they said any fines would not apply. Apparently every day in the newspaper there’s a page dedicated to visa problems. Considering Angola is still recovering from a civil war and rebuilding the country is in progress one would have thought increasing tourism to be essential, so to issue a 5 day ‘transit’ visa, to a cyclist, is a strange move, let alone the extortionate fine.


 Jorge and his friend, Roberto, are surfers and planned on a weekend trip to a beach 100km away and invited me along. Not having surfed before but thought it be a great way to take a break from the visa issue. The beach we stayed at on Saturday night was awesome! OK, my surfing skills didn’t exactly shine through but for me the whole experience was surreal.

Here I was in Angola, on a beach with a two people I had only just met, trying to surf, in the evening a fire and barbeque on the beach as the sun-set, drinking beer and wine, the beach with many other groups of people all doing the same. It really felt strange, partly due to the fact that Angola is one of those countries we, as westerners, actually no little of, apart from what we hear on the news, and news, always being bad conjures up bad reputation of the country. Angola is a country full of surprises, and the best was yet to come…



Monday and it’s Back in Luanda when were told to now wait until Tuesday for the passport, lets not forget “T.I.A” (This Is Africa). Eventually getting the passport back I find no change, no new stamps, no new visa. Jorge calls the General and asks what’s going on. He’s told that everyone one in the immigration office knows my case and everything is now ok, and I can continue without problems? I just hope any police check-points and border officials are aware that my ‘expired’ visas are still ok, who was I to argue what he told me? But I expect as I’m heading out of the country I should be ok. Both Jorge and Roberto said not to pay any fines that are asked for, and to stand my ground and play the ‘waiting game’ should it arise.


Tuesday lunchtime Jorge arrives home for lunch and says “do ya’ wanna do a live TV interview on our national channel?” It sounded amusing but he meant it! Roberto new someone that worked for ZTV, the main Angolan channel, and after hearing of my travels thought it would make a good story! Another quite surreal experience for a man and his bike. Arriving at the studio I’m told, on cue, to cycle past the front reception to a studio block at the rear and then enter through the side door. Repeating this opening shot three times until they got what they needed then after dismounting the bike, guided by several people, wheeling it into, the studio set.
As I enter a round-of-applause fills the air and the TV presenter stands from his chair beckoning me over, this was all live! Placing the bike in front of the studio set, in full view of the three floor camera’s and boom camera. Greeting me with a handshake he sits me down on the couch. A string of questions are asked; why? How far? What charity? Best country(Angola)?! Unsure of where I should be looking, occasionally seeing my self on the live monitor screen. After ten minutes or so he announces they have a gift for me and passes me two ZTV T-shirts and the interview comes to a close as a live dance act jumps onto the stage and starts rapping, show over!


Meeting Walter at 8:00am the next day outside the ZTV studio we do a brief news interview. Repeating some of the previous questions and also highlighting on the visa issue. Then with the bike carefully placed in the back of a pick-up we drive ~10km away from city mayhem to an open road. With the camera-man now in the back of the pick-up I’m told to just cycle. They drove past me several times, and let me pass them, occasionally driving ahead a few kilometers to set-up for road-side shots. A totally surreal experience. Half an hour later and there done. With the next big city being Lobito Walter says his sister and brother-in-law live there and would help me when I arrive. This was a 5 day ride away and would give me time to step down from the stage of fame I had briefly stepped upon!



Later the manager invited me for dinner....more food?...definitely! I was filled in on the bad side to Angola; corruption and bribery, rich against poor, no health care or concern for the country’s people from the government. With an estimated 1.2 million Chinese workers he was concerned about the future of the country, especially after the current president dies, as war could soon escalate once again.

It’s amazing the things people stop to give me. On the third day from Luanda I was cycling along when a car pulls along-side and the driver asks me where I was going. We pull over for a chat and after giving him the low-down of my adventure Nicholas says he worked as a representative for a beer company, and hands me two promotional T-shirts (along with the two I have from the TV station I definitely have enough to keep me warm on the cold Namibian and South African nights!!). Just about to drive away he asks if I’d like some beer “I have four boxes in the boot”. Stuffing bottles of beer into my panniers at the roadside certainly seemed quite a strange move but nonetheless something I’d be enjoying later that day!!

The next day I was passing a lay-by where a car had pulled onto and three people were standing next to it with cameras pointing at me, I stopped and greeted them and they said they had seen me on TV, the cycling celebrity!

• Part 3: Lobito to the Namibian border.

 Arriving at Lobito I use one of the road-side mobile phone boys and call Luis, the brother in-law of Walter from the TV station. Luis soon turns up and I follow him the 4km to a house that I’d be staying at. It was a huge six bedroom place that he rented for the workers of his import business, although it was empty for the two nights that I stayed there. Just down the road at his family’s home I was treated to some good food and conversation along with his wife Gee and her visiting Portuguese friend, Sol.