African odyssey: Four Whakatane Fellas embark on a simple motorcycle adventure from South Africa to England

We have taken our first punishment for being disorganised. With the madness of organising gear for the documentary and general gear for the journey we all managed to ignore the five day stop over we are now enjoying in Malaysia. The result was that we took a caning on the first nights accommodation.

Arriving to Kuala Lumpur late around 11.00pm we found ourselves checking in to a "cheap" hotel recommended by our taxi driver. Knowing no better we paid around $130NZD for two rooms for one night. It wasn’t until we checked in to the next accommodation in the Cameron Highlands and found it would cost us $18NZD that we realised just how badly we had been caned.

The moral of this story, spend five minutes on the net before you go so that you have some idea how much you should be paying. It could save you hundreds of dollars!

6th August 2006

At last we have arrived in Africa! Flying to Capetown last Wednesday was a punishing 14 hour ordeal, but we managed to get through customs with our one way tickets and are now staying with Jeremy’s cousins, the lovely Shillington family, in Capetown.

As expected the ship carrying 3 of our bikes is running late, but it was supposed to have docked last night and all going to plan we collect our bikes on Tuesday. Nick has already picked up his bike (which he purchased here in Capetown) and is working through the paperwork for registration and and a carnet.

Yesterday we climbed Table mountain and checked out some of the stunning views of the surrounding area. We’ve also been out to sample some of the night life on a few occasions, a highlight (or lowlight) was Saturday night at a local house party which culminated in Phill getting too drunk and falling into a hole, no lasting damage though. Despite Jeremy’s persistence we haven’t yet been out for a night on the shanty towns, we might have to leave that for another time...

12th August 2006

Yes, we are still in Cape Town. The wait for the bikes to arrive via boat from New Zealand has been very drawn out. The reality is that all the time we have been waiting we have been piecing together lots of loose ends. The frustration has been relieved the bikes arrived safe and sound. Within half an hour of opening the crates and enduring a customs inspection that didn’t seem to do much except cost us money the boys were on the road.

We were blessed with a national women’s day on Wednesday the ninth of August. To celebrate we went and stayed at a holiday home about 1.5 hours from Cape Town. On National women’s day we woke to find the girls had cooked up a grand breakfast in honor of themselves. And to their credit any breakfast that tastes deserves a national holiday.

With full bellies we headed out to Palmiet River where Tim Shillington took the crew for a white water experience on inflatable kayaks. The water was cold being that we are still far enough south in Latitude to experience some of the chills of winter. However the brilliance of a cloud free sunny day made for a great day on the river.

With bikes in hand the positive momentum has built to a point where we can no longer hold ourselves back. Tomorrow morning at 8am the African Odyssey Core Crew will leave Cape Town, the hospitality provided by the Shillingtons and the Odyssey will begin!

15th August 2006

We escaped! Cape Town is a distant memory, clouded by 500kms of South Africa’s finest motorway the N2. Although the hospitality shown to us by the Shillingtons will never be forgotten. Thanks alot to all the Shillington family. Once on the road we headed for the Coastal Route beautiful winding roads to Pringle and Hermanus where we caught regular glimpses of Whales cruising the coast line. What a start to the journey.

Never arrive anywhere in the dark. This was to be one of our golden rules, however due to a delayed departure time from Cape Town we ended up landing in a town called Stanford in the pitch black. Every space we saw with a few trees had a no trespassing sign on it so we were a little unsure quite where we would lay our heads, we didn’t really want to be woken by a farmer that looks similar to a springbok prop wielding a shotgun.

Enquiring at a local shop to see if they knew any likely spots to sleep the shop keeper a young Afrikaans guy called Stefan basically took a look at the bikes and decided we couldn’t be too bad and offered us to sleep on the grass behind his shop! What a legend! And so it was the goodness of people allowed us to have a safe nights sleep for the first night of our journey. A big thank you to Stefan, Bar and the biggest dog in the world Caesar for putting us up.

Up early we thanked Stefan and Bar and set out on a race along the Garden Route still on the N2. This was a big day as we had a south westerly front chasing our tails the whole way. Just when we thought we had the better of the front we would stop for petrol and food only for the front to edge a cloudy nose ahead. Finally about 60km from Knysna (nighsnah) we stopped to fix the bash plate on Nic’s bike that lost a screw and was falling off and the front took a convincing lead and we spent the last 45mins riding in the rain. Oh well, all the boys were geared up and handled the weather and roads no worries.

22nd August 2006

After chilling out in Knysna for a few days we headed around the Sunshine coast to the surfing mecca of Jeffrey’s Bay. The boys were hopeful for a wave but a combination of mother nature and the boys not being able to function normally at 7am when the surf was ok meant that we stayed dry.

From J-Bay it was onward to Grahamstown to stay with Julian’s cousins Camilla and Robbie Bloomfield on their farm, Rockhurst. We played farm during the day, with Juls shining at the osterich wrestling. We then checked out some fascinating rock paintings in a local cave before it was into Grahamstown for a night out in this student town. An early start the next morning and we headed into the former apartheid homeland the Transkei. Still a very poor area but the people were typically welcoming and we saw no trouble.

Onwards from the Transkei to Durban we arrived at sundown to the delightful hospitality of Gabriella and Antony Elworthy. We are doing some last minute preparation before heading away from the comforts of the first world. On the way to Botswana we will hit the All Blacks vs Springboks test match in Pretoria this Saturday.

We have had a few problems with the bikes. One of Jeremy’s bags melted onto his exhaust, not the safest way carry your gear. Still, it is a lot better than leaving one of your bags in the middle of the highway for the locals as to find; Phill lost all his clothes, sleeping bag and mat after his bag shuffled loose en route to the Kei Mouth. A clutch cable broke in the heart of the Transkei which the boys desperately fixed with throttle cable before powering on.

Big thanks to Camilla and Robbie for their generous hospitality - special mention to Robbies mouth watering Irish stew. Also many thanks to Gabriella and Antony for enduring the kiwi lads.

28th August 2006

A super cold ride greeted us as we rolled out of Durban heading for the Drakensburg world heritage area. The Drakensburg was a great place to stop and despite the rain we went for a bit of a wander around and snuck a view of the local attraction a stunning and very large natural Amphitheatre. Dramatic would be one word to describe the Drankensburg. Due to our commitments with the All Blacks test in Jo-Burg on the 26th we only had one day in the Drakensburg. It is a shame to have to rush through such beautiful locations.

However, the All Blacks match was a great occasion, really amazing to be a fish out of water as a Kiwi in Spring Bok territory. There were a few disgruntled locals who would prefer we weren’t there to watch them suffer but the general crowd were only gently hostile, we would go as far to say some were even friendly. Good Work to the All Blacks.

Also a massive Congratulations to Nic’s brother Nathan and his partner George who were second mens pair at the World Rowing Champs on Saturday. A huge effort, all the lads a super proud. Gold again next year bro.

Now that the All Blacks test victory is behind us we can now take our time a bit more as we have no set dates to be any where. It is a nice feeling. Jo-Burg is our last chance to fix the bikes and get them in top shape ready for regions of Africa where can’t just "go to the shop and grab some spares". We have found it hard getting spare parts here in SA so we are not optimistic about the supply chain in less developed countries further north.

Today is one month since we left the comfort of New Zealand! The last month has been really, really hard. We have to endure soft comfortable beds provided by our various hosts. Even worse is the great local cuisine our hosts provide for us that is so hard to stomach that we have to have seconds and sometimes even thirds! Yes travelling through Africa really is hard. Thanks again to everyone who has extended their hospitality to us since we have been here the boys have gained an average of 3 Kg’s to put the fat stores in good stead for the lean times that may be ahead. Thanks to our current hosts Lucille and Jason, we promise we will get out of cruise mode and leave some time in the next month.

14th September 2006

Crikey! A lot can happen when you don’t get internet access for a few weeks and you don’t update the website! We are now in Botswana and the adventures have begun to accumulate. On the way to the border Phill’s suspension snapped. We were saved by a local farmer who had the part welded and ready go within the hour. Saving us many days of delays.

Once in Botswana we camped once on the side of the road hidden by bushes and next at a camp ground in Nata. from Nata we decided to take an unplanned tour of the Magkadigkadi salt pans. A four hour ordeal of soft sand, spills and punctures. When we finally sighted the open expanse of the pans we really felt like we had been rewarded for the effort. Camping on the salt pans was like camping on the moon. Check out the chronicles for photos of the Salt Pans.

From the salt pans it was back through the sand and on to Maun and the Okavango Delta! Maun is a bustling town that provides an entry point for travellers in to the Delta. We set up at "back to the bridge back packers" on arrival and booked in for a Mokoro tour the next morning. Mokoro’s are wooden canoes driven by a poler who is also your guide.

We spent 3 days two nights in the Delta. Our days consisted of a sunrise game walk for four hours or so. Leaving the rest of the day to try and avoid the sun! Before going on another game walk in the evening. We managed to see Elephant, Wildebeest, Zebra and Impala as well as numerous bird species. Oh, and we were camped next to a pool of Hippos that would grunt away in the back ground and give chase if we went to close in the Mokoro’s. All under control of course by our adept poling guides.

Botswana has been a great taste of a simpler Africa. We are starting to see how limited supplies might become further north. The Delta was our first real touristy attraction and was well worth the effort. Our next major destination is Livingstone in Zambia. Home to Vic Falls and the mighty Zambezi river.

26th September 2006

Faced with the daunting task of writing a website update it would seem some things are more challenging than fixing a headlight. The heat of the sun slowly creeps into the day and the sounds of the thriving Lusaka city start to settle into a slow cruise set for a huge week of political endeavours and elections.

We reluctantly left our relative comfort of fellow kiwis in Maun, thanks to Matt Pohio for putting us up, heading along the western side of the Okavango Delta towards the Namibian border.

Well into the darkness of night we settled in Ngepi Lodge after our biggest ride yet. Morning greeted us, to our surprise, with a riverside lawn facing into the rising round glow of the sun. Not surprising is that this was voted best camp site in Africa. Our stay soon turned from one night to three as people, starter motors, fishing and no Namibian dollars held us content and happy. Twad’s and Jul’s made the most of the situation baking bread and biscuits to feed our hunger, whilst Phil cooked up our first African Chicken Stew. Delicious. Maybe it was the chicken, maybe it was the water we drank straight from the river but Twad’s and Phil both fell sick leaving Jul’s and Mungo to nurse and entertain the sick. Somewhere around this point it was decided to make the documentary into a musical. Jul’s has started by writing a song. There are mixed feelings about it’s appropriateness but it is of good honest quality material.

Dr Livingstone was presumed lost when he claimed a town and called it Livingstone, and claimed a waterfall and named it Victoria. We weren’t that fussed with these particulars and went rafting on the Zambezi River, known for eating people and also rafts, and huge water volumes and lots of laughs. Not much water meant huge amounts of fun, huge amounts of flipping and huge amounts of chanting like pirates and singing Chonga songs. Our crew of four became a group of six with our two Aussie extras Anna and Melody. Each was welcomed and given a pirate name, which usually denounced what colour ones beard was or leg hair length, aboard the Zambian Pearl. Our task after appalations was to dominate the river and mould it to us. Grade 5 meant bigger laughs as we were pounded into the white oblivion dancing around us. Exhilaration turned to concern as Jul’s took a hit for the river god Nyami-nyami, literally translated as meat-meat. A few other knocks but all took the punishment well. Apparently we were the best rafting team on the river, ever. Our guide told us so and we agreed definitely so. Later, as long needed endorphins flowed and in typical ANZAC style the truck ride home included us drinking all the beers on offer and singing parts of songs we would’ve liked to have known. So been there ticked that off.

Moving onto the random night in a locals home in Sinazongwe, near Lake Kariba. Her name was Xsuda Mezinga. She was drunk, we weren’t. She had a beer garden, we had nothing. She made sure we were fed, we appreciated this. She sold alcohol to anyone, we were tired. She kept repeating everything she said, we couldn’t ignore her. She had an honest face, there was no lights thus couldn’t see her face. We tried to sleep but the heat was septic and the mozzies were nocturnal. So was the clock that electronically chimed every hour. We woke before the sun to evade confrontation with the owner who was due in at seven. As the sun rose we reflected personally to the camera what had happened. Agreed it was a giant step out of our comfort zones and coincidently we now rest in Lusaka at more luxurious backpacking accommodation.

5th October 2006

Mungo hands Twaddle a beer, for which he is greatly appreciative. Twaddle remarks it is great to have a beer on the shores of Lake Malawi. We must be in Africa!". Mungo didn’t reply he just mused silently as he seemed to absorb the energy of place, this place, Lake Malawi.

Early morning riding is just reward for the effort required to pack the bikes again and leave. You feel like being on a bike setting forth in chase of the lads in the front of the pack missioning across Africa was exactly where you were meant to be. This is when riding a motorbike feels dangerously addictive. When being on the bike feels more right than to be relaxing in the place you just left. Afternoon riding is drowsy and hot, camp can’t be reached soon enough, the hit of the morning’s rush long ago dissipated by the heat and tirelessly straight roads.

Malawian authorities accepted the odyssey crew with open arms and little fanfare. Although the Zambian officials seemed to want to extend our time in their country, taking nothing short of an hour to put one stamp on a form so we could go on our merry way. No stress we just spent the hour haggling with the black market money exchange guys.

An outstretched hand accompanied by "Hey you, give pen, me" was our introduction to Malawi. We follow Julian’s lead and ask them to give us a pen first, this usually confuses them and stops them asking for five minutes or so. You can’t help but feel sorry for their situation but there is no real good that can come from feeding the expectation. The problems are far to complex to be solved by giving away a few pens. However, our overall impression of the people has been a very positive experience.

Not all colonial hangovers are bad, Lilongwe the capital of Malawi was home to such one such hangover known as a golf course. A golf course with a cheap secure camp ground of all things! So it was that we hired our compulsory caddies and hit the greens. Actually it took around six shots for any of us to hit the green on most holes. Mungo probably played the most consistent golf of the day, the other boys all displaying isolated patches of brilliance.

The frustration of golf was sweated out of the system with forty five minutes of full field soccer as super subs for a local team. Clad in bright white never worn Chelsea uniforms, the crew helped the local UIBM soccer team to a seven five win over chesterfield. Both Phil and Mungo proved that white boys can shoot with one goal each. Anyone who knows the boys well will know that this sporting interlude was like giving a swollen mammary to a hungry baby.

The bus ground to a halt as its amused passengers peered over each other to see why they slowed. They saw Twaddle scrambling over the ground and trying to pick his bike up. Dropped whilst trying to turn around to follow some locals who were putting us back on track to get to Lake Malawi. The biggest commotion of the day however was when we realised we had left behind the hand cut odyssey stamp juls and jerry had made in Lilongwe! Gutted. However, we made it to the shores of Lake Malawi, riding through sweeping roads and passing rubber plantations. Due to the tropical heat, 30 degrees at 8am, we have been paddling in the lake foreshore despite the risk of bilharzia. And so we sleep. Replete with life.

12th October 2006

The journey continued as we headed north along the western edge of lake Malawi to another of the famous doctors naming legacies: Livingstonia. We hiked up to the spectacular plateau which hosts the small missionary town with the help of some local boys, who then invited us down to their village to a customary dance festival. A lot of their "native" costumes had the distinct appearance of recycled clothes from the USA, but we let that slip and a good time was had by all.

From Livingstonia it was only a short drive to the Tanzanian border where we entered country number seven. The bikes struggled a little with the mile high altitude as we spent several nights in small towns well off the tourist track. Arriving one evening in the dusty settlement of Makambako we stayed at a guest house where the staff yelled abuse at us in Swahili, the toilets overflowed, and someone operated heavy machinery outside our window from 5am. Welcome to Africa.

Onwards to Iringa where we organised a three day tour of the Ruaha national park. Guided by our trusty driver Frank we saw the full splendour of the park and its thriving big game populations. Staying at the government Bandas (huts) Juls and Nick retired to bed one night to find a hungry elephant waiting to greet them. Luckily he was only interested in the lush tree next to their door. A definite highlight of the safari was watching a lion wrestle with an Eland (the largest antelope) before finally overwhelming then devouring it. Words can’t really do the Ruaha area justice, check out the Ruaha Game park chronicle!

28th October 2006

Kilimanjaro kept a watchful gaze as the African Odyssey Core Crew and our motley mix of bikes cruised onward leaving the fantastic first three months behind us. We celebrated our three month anniversary with a small Eland steak. Not taken from the Eland seen in the last update with a lion on its back. Just short of 10 000kms the African Odyssey is changing up a gear. We have been granted Sudanese visas which we must initiate within one month. Therefore we have 1 month to travel from Tanzania to Uganda, Kenya and Ethiopia. The Race is on.

What has happened in the last few weeks? From the raw natural beauty of Ruaha National park we made a break for the coast. The mayhem of the entry to Dar es Salaam was full on but more manageable than expected and we slipped through the traffic and escaped to a camp site on the beautiful southern beaches. For four boys who grew up spending summers at Ohope beach to be back basking in the oceans of Tangaroa, be it the Indian Ocean, was strangely therapeutic. The lads spent every minute of the fading sunlight frolicking in the sea. The beauty of the camp site was jaded by the camp reneging on a deal we struck to leave the bikes for free while we went to Zanzibar. Frustrating, but never mind.

A hectic day and a half was spent in Dar es Salaam being ferried around by Felix the best taxi driver Dar had to offer. Felix ferried us to and fro from the cheapest food outlets for chapatti and beans to embassies and motorbike stores. The morning of the ferry to Zanzibar we paid $80 NZD each for a letter from the British High Commission that said nothing in particular so that we could apply for our Sudanese visas, ouch! We managed to sneak our passports to the Sudanese embassy and make the boat for Zanzibar.

As we stepped off the ferry onto the soil of the “quasi” island nation Zanzibar we realised the folly of our situation. As a “quasi” nation Zanzibar expected us to have our passports. Who would have thought you would need a passport to enter a new country? Luckily and with some persuasive conversation we were granted entry to Zanzibar with photocopy passports. Lesson learnt and extremely relieved at not being expelled to the mainland we had a great if slightly expensive, (due to pricey accommodation) 6 days on Zanzibar. The high prices were slightly tolerable as every night was spent in double beds being a comfortable change from the tent and thermarest we have become used to.

Stonetown, the capital of Zanzibar, has a very strong muslim presence a result of slave trading activities of the Arabs earlier in the last century. We arrived to catch the tail end of Ramadan the holy fasting month, whereby no one is supposed to eat or drink or smoke or even swallow in public in daylight hours. Once light faded everyone would be out in force at the local night markets. The night markets were a culinary delight especially for those keen on seafood or sugar cane juice. However you needed to be selective as to which seafood you ate as some appeared to come back night after night named after a different fish as the meat changed colour. Juls fell ill due to some local food but we aren’t sure exactly what struck him down. He has recovered fully. We were glad to celebrate “Eid” the end of Ramadan when the new moon was sighted on the 22nd October.

With a Muslim experience on Zanzibar despite not having our passports we headed back to Dar on a night ferry. Once back on the mainland we made haste to escape Dar es Salaam and the coast, we won’t be seeing the ocean again for another two months as we wind our way through East and Northern Africa. You certainly would struggle to drive 10,000km in NZ without running in to the coast. We hope to spend Christmas in Cairo before crossing through Libya to Tunisia where we will catch a ferry to Italy and make a beeline through Europe in the middle of winter to the ferry for the English Channel.

Yes, it is true the African Odyssey has a schedule! We can hardly believe it. Having experienced only minor troubles in the first three months including punctures, broken suspension, faulty starter motors, crashes in sand, broken panniers and the odd bout of stomach sickness we can only hope that the next three months go as well, touch wood. In fact it is hard to believe that we have come this far. The bikes and the camera and the boys are all still rolling and the mood is good. Only three more months of group decision paralysis and stopping to film in the blasting heat and we should arrive in the bleak winter embrace of London Town.

6th November 2006

Location: Kampala, Uganda
Distance Travelled: 10 500 km

The smell of wild dirty adventure was in the air. We opted not to take the main road from Arusha to Nairobi but rather unleash our intrepid travelling selves upon rugged roads and local villages to the south of lake Victoria - the second largest fresh water lake in the world. The going was tough but the tough got going. The main highway from Arusha to Dodoma, Tanzania’s capital, used to be tar but had fallen into disrepair making for rough and slow riding. We made camp at our first church and were looked after better than imagined with food and many well wishes. We decided to negotiate the 250km of rough dirt and another 100km of tar to Nzega in a day. A day to pass 10,000km, have our three month anniversary, travel on gravel at high speeds, watch Nic fall at pace and dive into a survival roll resembling Chinese acrobats, see Juls drop his bike and mash his steal panniers, make our first bribe to pass through an unfinished road and see Phill stung by another bee and react. We deserved DB.

Mwanza, a city on the south coast of lake Victoria was full of tension and anger not providing the group with memories of butterflies and warm fuzzies. Juls’ tank bag with the camera inside was one more razor blade slice away from disappearance while the police stopped us and told us not to venture out at night. That aside we still ate food and survived. We booked a ferry across the lake to Bakoba departing at 10pm. We arrived in a thunderstorm to have our bikes craned on deck and setup a constant guard over them. We had been forewarned not to leave them alone else they would be stripped by morning. We setup a night watch with shifts; Jerry did 10-12 as it was his Birthday the next day, Phill 12-2, Nic 2-4 and Juls 4-6am. We used a large tyre iron to scare away the locals and more than a few had to be persuaded.

It became a mad dash to get to Kampala, there was one simple reason, to get our Ethiopian Visas before the weekend. We rode through the rain passing fields of tea and sugar cane, dodging dangerous Ugandan taxi shuttles, stopping briefly at the equator - the first of our 6 crossings, and arriving in Kampala to traffic madness. Nic was knocked of the bike at an intersection and we ended up hiring a local to escort us to the Ethiopian Embassy. We arrived at 4pm on a Friday and asked if we could have a visa for their country in the hour before close. At first it was not taken well but our green friend George Washington paid them a visit and we walked out of Ethiopia back to Uganda with visas in hand.

We are currently unable to disclose our present location but tune in soon for an exciting encounter of rhinos, thick mud and road bandits.

18th November 2006

The source of the mighty Nile beckoned as we departed Kampala and headed for the adventure capital of Uganda, Jinja. White water sports are big business in Jinja, and although we were mainly content with our Zambezi exploits, Nic dabbled in a bit of kayaking in the frothy waters. With thoughts of the Sudanese visa deadline still in the back of our minds we made a beeline for the Kenyan border and after checking in with seven day transit visas, were caught in a thunder storm which made Hurricane Katrina look like a patch of fluffy cumulus. Soaked to the bone we hunkered down for our first night in Kenya.

The bikes spluttered as we crossed the high ranges which marked the edges of the Great Rift Valley and despite dog attacks and stomach ailments, we made it to the Lewa Wildlife conservatory to stay with intrepid motorcycle traveler turned game park manager, Simon Dougdale. We had a great time at Lewa spotting Rhinos, telling macho bike stories and tuning the bikes for the hard road ahead, a big thanks to Simon for his fantastic hospitality. Our departure from Lewa saw the odyssey initiated to the joys of driving a bike in deep mud. An overnight downpour had left the roads leading out of the conservatory almost impassible and we skidded, slid and pushed the bikes for two hard hours to cover the four kilometers back to the main road!

The Kenyan government, like most African governments, has a tenuous grip on parts of its country. Unluckily for us, we needed to drive through a lawless region which travelers affectionately refer to as “the bandit highway”. It is the only road which leads north to Ethiopia and beyond. Vehicles often travel this stretch of road with an armed guard but due to our reluctance to double a local with an AK we decided to take our chances.

Shaking in our boats but trying not to let each other know how scared we were, we left the last “civilized” town of Isiolo, pointed the bikes north and crossed our fingers. The road quickly deteriorated into a rocky corrugated track which seemed to constantly threaten to shake us and our steeds to pieces. The occasional local we encountered changed from streetwise beggar to someone more reminiscent of a “Gods Must Be Crazy” character.

We spent two nights camping on the bandit highway in police camps where the officers wore army camos and carried heavy machine guns. Stories told by the police of rampaging Somali militia didn’t exactly calm our nerves. We had one breakdown on the road which involved Juls wrestling with a chain guard which lodged itself in his front sprocket, while the rest of us looked nervously off into the bush. After three hard days ride of corrugations, rocks, mud and more corrugations, we emerged in one piece from the bandit highway, greeted by the wild west frontier town of Moyale.

Entering Ethiopia the drive from Moyale up to Addis Ababa was a dream after the hard roads of northern Kenya. People mob us every time we stop the bikes here, but apart from a petty theft and the odd thrown stone from delinquent kids they are most welcoming. This is the last stop for bike repairs until Cairo so the bikes are being gone over with a magnifying glass. Next up it is the most African of all landmarks: the Sahara. Roll on the desert!

8th December 2006

One hundred and thirty four days since solid Aotearoa. In hours that’s alot. In months only four and a half. All that time and we’ve finally reached one of the northernmost countries of Africa and we’ve now passed the Sahara Desert. It’s a goal in itself.

From Addis Ababa, Ethiopia we rolled west towards the Sudan, through the rolling hills and canyons of rivers tributary to the Blue Nile, past the crowds and neatly planted crops. To Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile, where it held our attention briefly with a small boat cruise to a few isolated island mosques of tranquil beauty. The trip was highlighted by fifty or so endurance workers paddling their firewood in the "wood race crossing challenge" across twelve kilometres of the lake to sell at the market. The boats were made from the firewood itself floating barely above the surface, arms moved sluggishly as we passed by with our luxrious 45hp engine. It’s a weekly routine to make 75 Birr (NZ$15).

Ethiopia was to be the last country before our Sudan entry; the bane of our racing north due to visa entry timelimit. We were making slow leeway with low money, Mungo having kill switch troubles needing mechanical assistance and later Twad’s bike having cooling fan troubles. All were the focus of frustrating perseverance. Twad’s eventually having to abandon riding putting his bike in a dump truck in the closing hour of the day.

On a remote dirt road in a valley steep with rocks and a sky awash with changing colours the KLR650 was hoisted five metres over the side of the sturdy steel bucket with only twelve pairs of hands assisting it up. Darkness hid what a calamity of chaos it really was. Once up on board it was a 64km ride to the next town Debre Markos where Napoleon was to fix up the fan and welcome us into his culture head first beginning with a few "Ethiopian alcohol". Some of the boys were caught tipping it out as shot glasses were topped aplenty with the horid taste.

Relief finally filled our mood as we patiently passed through immigration at the Sudanese border. Ethiopia was behind us, Sudan now at our wheels. An extremely unhelpful man trying to rip us off attached himself to us as we slowly progressed requesting money for his help in money exchange. We eventually got through our message that we didn’t need his assistance and he sulked off shouting, "I hope you as a whiteman have a bad trip. I hate the whiteman!"; past the goats playfighting, past the colourfully painted trucks, past the content white robes of the Sudanese, past the dusty earth; past no-mans-land back to Ethiopia. Almost on cue the big man with a huge frown, translating our passports into Arabic violently stamping each one, rose with a smile in a loud voice; "Welcome to Sudan!!"

Our ride ahead turned from bumpy dust into clean black tar freshly laid. It was a road just for us. Plains stretched for miles either side with arid crops and sanddirt. We stopped to lie on the road and feel its heat from the day. The sun had begun it’s well-oiled daily routine falling behind the haze in the horizon flaming orange and red and a little purple. A truck stopped backed up and two men jumped out: "We are from Egypt! Welcome to Sudan!" They were building the road, a gift from Egypt. "We’re from New Zealand! HEY!!!! Thanks!"

West still, towards Khartoum, we leisurely stopped and filmed and enjoyed the numerous food stalls along the straight hot road. A man invited us over for coffee at one food stop. "Come. I invite you. Invite you coffee." Adriss had two wives and plenty of young Adriss’s, he also had a girlfriend from NZ, very proud of all. We could not offer much in our tally of wives - altogether we totalled zero - so he continually offered the tea lady as available.

Khartoum held the confluence of the Blue Nile and the White Nile which was to be one of the highlighted themes in this part of the adventure. They met rather peculiarly in a kind of river fornication; Blue Nile bent away and the White Nile caressed the edge bonding further along in the relationship. Been there seen that back on the road leading to more exciting things; the Sahara. We had narrowed down two options in getting from Khartoum to the ferry in Wadi Halfa; one through the desert to follow the Nile on semi-decent/bad roads via Dongola, the other a road ending in Abu Hamid and continuing on 400km of sandy Nubian Desert to Wadi Halfa. We chose the latter.

Excitement rushed our thoughts and pumped our vains. Enough water? Enough fuel? Enough food? What are we going to eat, we don’t have anything to cook with? Water? How heavy are the bikes when loaded? Water? What about punctures? Bikes are a bit dodgey at present...Twad’s your cooling fan up to it? Phill your suspension ok? Mungo, hush, your bike’ll be fine. Jul’s is our map now working on the PDA? -we have no map but we just follow the train tracks...... What is there to expect from nothing?

Modest supplies were collected in the morning, including 29 litres of bottled water care of the Peoples Democratic Republic of China, and we set forth into the sand. Trouble loomed not even out of Abu Hamid with the bikes bunting and bucking us in a patch of soft sand. It was to be short lived with the whole day’s riding being on a relatively firm layer of dust and rocks with us cruising at high speeds. 30km in at Station 10 found a man patient and friendly, a quick encounter before back onto the lone vast highway north. A whole desert all to ourselves. Dust trails scattered the scene in a flock of noisy motorbikes. Truck tracks left since the last strong wind pointed our way north and it was like an ancient pilgrimage as old as the Mero Pyrimads we’d camped near a previous night.

Our night under the stars was cold with wind and interrupted breifly by the train passing by. It only passes twice a week and at the nearby Station Five 22 people lived relying on this train for trade, money and water. Later in the night we were roused by a couple of other trucks making their way south. Phill found himself out of his sleeping bag in the darkness ready to warn of our position to avoid truck to camp collision. In the morning Jul’s had the camera set up greeting us as we woke filming our rousal with the sun joining in.

We arrived into Wadi Halfa after a mere two-days-blaze through the desert. Left over we had one piece of bread, two oranges, 23 of 29 litres of water taken, not much petrol, the same little amount of money and four sunburnt necks. It was not the challenge we’d prepared for but we’d had the Nubian Desert all to ourselves for a brief encounter.

Wadi Halfa was now our stables until the train visited again with passengers for the ferrry, a total of three nights. The very calm dirt streets were a great place to sit and enjoy a tea or coffee with the robed men. Women kept to the home with the exception of the tealadies who served day and night the half sugar half liquids. This was idle time for us and the town suited it ideally. We even did a budget for the following 43 days; not good. The trip is now one week shorter than the arbitrary six month deadline (when our travel insurance runs out) due to this budget.

Money was always going to affect us in some way or another on this trip - to be honest it is a big part of it, or small part depending on what way you look at. Our route now follows the road directly north with little detour, activities are left for the tourists, motels cheaper, careers ponder thoughts, yet food is not scrimped on. Wandering towards Cairo is now our direction, following the Red Sea coast to our timeshare resort by the sea. A tunnel is appearing drawing us into the light ahead.

We’ve passed the very erratic and pedantic border from Sudan to Egypt on a ferry across Lake Nasser, notorious for extreme attention to detail and our dread since leaving Capetown. Our bikes have not been released from customs yet, today is Friday being an office dayoff in Egypt and we won’t get them until tomorrow. With no bikes we’re like stranded whales in Aswan, stuck in the centre of a city founded through tourism. It’s strange how people change dramatically with a new country; gone are the humble and calm Sudanese, now it is the aggressive Egyptian, but hey it is one of the northernmost countries of Africa and at least we can drink beer in this country.

23rd December 2006

One - Christmas
Two - Egypt
Three - The biggest arrival party ever in the world

Christmas - Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from all the team at African Odyssey. Have a great few days off work and eat some great food. Have a BBQ and a beer and don’t do anything stupid in the silly season. We will miss being with our Families for the summer festivities, make the most of yours. We will be on the beach on the Red Sea, its no Ohope but it should be nice none the less.

Egypt in a nutshell - Aswan was sales pitch central "Friend I have something to tell you" or "Where you from? New Zealand, I love New Zealanders, Come here New Zealand, New Zealand! New Zealand". Shouted in to the mire as we kept walking a straight line through the bazaar. Despite its madness Aswan had a strange appeal. The pinnacle for Aswan and the point at which we allowed ourselves to feel affection for the place was during a Sunset Felluca (sailing boat) ride on the Nile. Very calming after the throng of the streets, a nice change to just chill and move in silence over the water.

Five days after arriving in Egypt our bikes were released from customs. Leaving Aswan port we ran in to four motorcyclists heading South into the adventures we had just seen. Couldn’t help but think they would be in for a great journey. With thoughts of the last 15,000km in our minds we hit the road again for the first time in almost 10 days. Our withdrawal symptoms quickly subsided as the roar of our bikes reminded us that we our bikes were still running, we were still riding and we were still in Africa making progress towards London.

We drove past McDonalds and KFC as we entered Luxor the heart of the ancient Egyptian attractions and it would seem the heart of modern development too. We haven’t seen Fat-Donalds since South Africa. We focused on the ancient side of things, valley of the kings, valley of queens, old tombs, articulate graphics, lots of Heiroglyphics, amazingly preserved, colour resene would be proud of if they were around three thousand years later to see it still going strong. Post tombs tour in Luxor we had time to kill and there was alot of thumb twiddling, diary and washing catch up and internet addiction developing. Cops wouldn’t let us go without convoy this time. So we spent another day in Luxor. Hurry up and wait, Twiddle your thumbs some more. Play some backgammon and have a cup of tea down a side street. Thanks Brad (a fellow kiwi) for teaching us the real rules to backgammon as opposed to the African Odyssey rules.

"CONVOY across the universe" well to Hurghada at least, madness, sixty buses and vans all racing to be at the front of the line. First to go nowhere! We could barely keep the pace and felt very insignificant on our little motorbikes, exciting sometimes, scary the rest. Convoy over, relief and a little bit of joy to have been part of an Egyptian institution known as the police convoy. The bane of all overland travelers to have their freedom taken away. It was hard to know if you were safer traveling alone or in the convoy? Considering that the convoy left at the same time every day and was definitely all tourists you felt a bit like a target. There were lots of guns on the side of the road as the convoy burnt through Egypt so there is some protection there, but the convoy kind of puts all the targets together. The convoys are a response to terrorist attacks in the late nineties, so they are not without reason and we can see that Egypt is only trying to protect the income its people depend on. However it would seem the terrorists may have learnt their lesson. After attacks on tourists at Hapsetschut temple in Luxor in 1997 tourist numbers went from 6000 per day to 800. To say the fellow country men were a bit disappointed by the actions of the terrorists is probably a bit of an understatement. The industry that was their lifeblood, crippled.

The Red Sea! We had made it back to the coast after 2 months inland, beautiful, except there is nothing on the shore just rocks and desert dirt, but still, beautiful. Hurghada! Development and tourism on steroids with no constraints on aesthetic appeal or construction methods. Maybe they should have stopped after building the Pyramids. Juls went diving and it was in awe of the marine beauty. To give you an idea of how beautiful, it has made Juls’ seven wonders of the world list!

We snuck along the red sea coast from Hurghada to Cairo with no convoy. Relieved because the convoy left at 2.30am! We would have all fallen asleep at the handle bars as it is 455km, one of the Odyssey’s biggest days ever. The coast from Hurghada to Cairo is oil land, so there was no need for convoys, every couple of km’s on every little rise was an armed base keeping an eye on the pipelines and oil rigs. Also no plants, or people to hide in the plants, as it is barren desert out here, just the Red Sea and oil.

Cairo! smog, hugeness, motorways, metropolitan, traffic rules more of a guide, two lanes aren’t as good as squeezing in three or three and a half lanes of cars. Good concept, maybe Auckland could do that, just tell people to drive more economically and squeeze a couple of more lanes in to the existing space. Cairo central city rendezvous was a bit like this.... confused identities, names corrected, keys collected, directions taken, circles in the city, 34 sets of directions straight back to where we were. 10 more directions, a cup of tea and dinner down a back alley (lost) good dinner for $3 NZD for all four. Six hours after spotting the smog ridden sky-scape of Cairo we were safely in our borrowed accommodation. Thanks to Nic’s friend Mike Hanna from ISV, you rock.

Went to the Egyptian Museum of old stuff chucked in a hall and left there to gather dust while the tourists come and look at it and say, "wow that looks old". Average museum with cool stuff in it, the tutenkahmen exhibit was really quite amazing, to see such intricate design in the jewellery and coffin was almost beyond belief considering how long ago it was. The mummified animals were cool too. You had to pay extra to see the human mummies. Huh, we could hardly afford to get in let alone pay some more! Plus we didn’t want any curses put on us so close to making our goal of London.

Pyramids, arrived after closing. Man we are great tourists! Enter stage left – An egyptian tourist tout offers us a horse ride, stoked. Thirty Egyptian pounds to ride a horse and get amazing views of the Pyramids as opposed to paying fifty pounds to see the pyramids up close where the wonder of perspective is kind of lost. Very nice, watched the light show on the pyramids for free then had a great dinner of falafel, mousaka and babaganou in pita bread. The boys all replete for the cost of one big mac combo back in NZ. Cheap as chips to eat here and we love it. All that in Cairo, Cairo ! If our bikes don’t go another km we will still feel we have achieved.

The Arrival Party – If we make it to London without any curses jamming up our Voyage then we will be four very happy boys. To mark our happiness the Queen has offered to give us a party at Buckingham Palace. We turned down her offer and instead will be having a celebration at the Larrik in Fulham. We owe our arrival party to Stephen Sausage Richards (the best guy in the world, in our eyes). The party is at The Larrik, New Kings Rd, Fulham, London on the 20th of January. We will ride our bikes in should they still be working in such cold weather at 7pm. All and sundry are invited to dress in African Biker Theme, all Pirates welcome too.

We are looking forward to arriving in London as it means we have made it, all our fears of mechanical breakdowns, and sickness and bad things will have been allayed. We don’t look forward to leaving the wonders of Africa and the joy of waking and wondering, "where will my bike take me today?"

Thanks to all who have followed, supported and helped us so far. Wish us luck for the cooler Northern Africa and frozen Europe section of the tour.

5th January 2007

The odyssey entered new territory as for the first time on this journey we spent a full week in one place. We enjoyed the week of Christmas laid up at our Red Sea resort, reading, sunbathing, being merry and getting run over by dump trucks. That’s right, in a dark twist to the holiday season we almost lost one of the bikes, but luckily nobody was hurt in the incident.

Nic was doubling Juls through the suprisingly quiet resort town of Ras Sudr as they were picking up a few supplies to take back to the hotel for christmas dinner. Following a loaded earth moving truck through town Nic had to slam on the brakes as the truck in front decided to come to a unexpected screaming halt. Breathing a sigh of relief as they stopped about a metre from the rear of the truck, the boys respite turned to terror as the truck driver started backing up! (no brake lights or reverse lights) Juls jumped off the bike and started yelling at the driver as Nic attempted to wheel the bike out of the way, but the truck was moving quickly and the bike toppled, Nic fell and the truck came to a halt atop the front wheel, inches from Nic’s trapped leg.

In consolation for mashing up his bike and almost squashing him, the truck driver gave Nic a hug and kiss on the cheek, then was back on his way. Merry Christmas. Thankful that nobody was hurt, we had to send Nic and the bike back to Cairo early to have the front forks welded and try to get it back into a road worthy state. So a drama filled last few days on the Red Sea ended as we reunited again in Cairo, Nic with a partially repaired bike the front wheel still buckled but ready to ride on! Time was starting to press again, so we made a beeline for Libya: Three weeks to get to London.

We hit the Mediterranean for the first time and the closeness of Europe hit home, we could almost smell the lasagna wafting across from the northern shores. Our route passed through Alexandria and a number of small seaside towns as we headed for the commonwealth war memorial and cemetery at El Alamien. Wandering around the memorial was a very emotional experience, if we had been born sixty years earlier we would have also been here, but to fight not to holiday. We paid our respects to the glorious dead and located the graves of several family and friends.

New Years Eve and we were at the Libyan border, we rendezvoused with our Libyan travel agent who took care of all the paper work we needed to get through - a welcome relief after the debacle of Egypt. A chilly drive into the Libyan desert and we were ready to welcome in the new year. Not in typical style though as Libya is an alcohol free zone so the boys managed a big sober count down and celebration as 2007 dawned in the peaceful desert.

Several big days ride towards Tripoli were halted with more bike troubles. This time the rear wheel bearing on Juls’ bike decided that it was time to join a scrap heap. After waving down a truck carrying a massive front end loader, we managed to strap the bike on and get a lift to the city of Misratah. In a triumph of the African spare parts network Juls was able to locate and replace the rear bearings within two hours. Keeping our record of never being delayed by a breakdown for more than one day in tact!

Onwards to one of the premier tourist attractions of Libya, the ancient city of Leptis Magna. The City was a major centre in Roman times which was abandoned in the 5th century AD, covered in sand and then discovered recently in a remarkable state of preservation. Due to Libya heavily controlling tourism we were able to wander around the remarkable Basilicas, theatre, baths and other sites with only a scattering of others around. I guess it is one of the benefits of being a tourist in a rogue state.

The latest stop on the odyssey’s itinerary is Tripoli, the Libyan capital. We are staying here at the international school with our old high school teacher Brett MacDonald and his wife Barbara. A big thank you to both of them for their very kind hospitality. This is an example to everyone of why you should be kind to your school teachers. In a weeks time we will finally leave the shores of Africa, and embark on the final dash across Europe to the arrival party in London. It is sad to think that this adventure is almost over but exciting to think that we might actually make it! Touch wood…

10th January 2007

Location: Tunis, Tunisia
Distance Travelled: 20 000 km

Question: Can four lads from small town Whakatane New Zealand - disorganized, ill prepared and inexperienced motorcyclists drive the length of the African Continent, 20,000km from Cape Town to Tunisia?

Answer: Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!!!!!!!!! Arrrrrghhhhhhhhh! We made it, yehaaaaaa!!!!! Huhuhuhuhuhu!! Yowsers!! Oh but we still have to get to london. But we made it the length of Africa atleast. STOKED!

We have arrived in Tunis capital of Tunisia at what is essentially the top of Africa, and the final African destination for the African Odyssey. So we are close but no cigar with 1500km remaining before we reach London.

Mungo Jerry kept our final two days driving in Africa from Tripoli to Tunis interesting. 10km short of the Libya Tunisian border our last African border crossing Mungo collided with the back of a confused taxi that stopped unexpectedly. In a dramatic scene Mungo flew over the handle bars bouncing off the boot of the taxi, somehow landing on his feet, shaken but thankfully, unhurt. The only damage a burst front tire that was fixed with a bit of super glue. The African Odyssey rode on.

As with all of the incidents we have encountered on this African adventure, somehow we have managed to keep on rolling, probably as much by chance as any other reason. We owe a large part of the success of this journey to so many people from so many countries who helped out with accommodation, repairs, rides or just good company along the way, to these people we are forever grateful, your kindness has made our trip.

The African section of the Odyssey is now all but over, the vortex of the arrival party and the real world is increasing in force. However the frozen winter locked continent of Europe still poses some seriously cold challenges to our overall success, Wish us luck for the last 10 days as we attempt to beat the cold and reach London by the 20th. The website updates will continue to roll, no doubt there is still plenty that happen between here and England.

In 30 hours time we catch a ferry for Italy and bid farewell to the African Adventure that has been our lives for the last 5 months. Bring it on Europe, we are harder than your coldest winter!

Juls thought he would make a break for Tunis, alone.

Jules tried to burn off
View the Chronicle images here

14th January 2007

Location: Lyon, France
Distance Travelled: 20 500 km

The European Odyssey has begun. After disembarking the ferry from Tunis in Genova - Italy, we were greeted with the warmest of Italian hospitality by Paolo Marancio. Paolo cooking us great Italian pasta at 12.30am in the morning. An awesome guy! We found Paolo on the couchsurfing.com website a great website concept that allows people to organise free accomodation in locations all around the world. Thank you so much for your hospitality Paolo.

Timeframes are tight in order for us to safely make the arrival party on the 20th in London so we had to cut short our stay with Paolo and head high in to the French Italian alps. Before we could do so Nics bike was given a quick once over and some break pads by the great guys at Mar-ch-ald motorcycle store in Genova. These guys were awesome they didn’t even make Nic feel bad that his oil levels and water coolant levels were low, along with his tire pressures. Some would wonder how we got this far? As we headed towards the Alps and France we didnt actually know how far we would go but wanted to make the most of what seemed like a mild winter day.

Mild might be an apt description for the European winter when you are driving at 130km in the snug warmth of your BMW. Not how we would describe the temperatures, as we froze our way in to the Alps in a icy mist. We found ourselves making a typical Odyssey decision - mid French alps just on dark we decided to drive 200km down through the alps to Lyon in the dark. Oh how our poor fingers regretted that decision. In reality we were extremely lucky with the weather and on any other day it could have been a tourturous affair.

We warmed ourselves at one of Julians old haunts, Johnny Walshes Irish Pub, relishing one of the longest coldest odyssey days over a few brown ales. With 1000km or so to go we are soaking up the relaxed normality of europe and its luxuries, we pray to some one that the weather holds for the next 6 days. Does Jim Hickey still control the weather? Can someone get in touch with him for us.

The Odyssey Continues....

20th January 2007

Location: London, England
Distance Travelled: 21 525 km

WE MADE IT!!

One hundred and sixty eight days after leaving Capetown we have reached the end, the African Odyssey has now concluded it’s epic adventure!

No more sleepless nights on rocky ground, no more mosquito bites and no more nagging bowel movements. But also no more chance meetings with fascinating Africans, no more learning about foreign cultures nor languages and no more cruising on our bikes towards the next wild frontier. It’s a new beginning for the Odyssey members as we rejoin the world in our own directions, now unhindered by group decision making.

The final stretch from Lyon presented plenty of what we had feared from Europe: freezing temperatures, super high winds and rain. Juls collected a great birthday present from Jean Moulin 3rd Lyon University he studied at previously; his official PhD certificate. Presents finished we then confronted a huge days ride from France’s second largest city which ensured we arrived mid evening, shivering cold, into the city, Troyes. As seems to have happened so often during this trip, we were shown extraordinary kindness from strangers as Rey and Ellen welcomed us into their home. They introduced us to the French tradition of “Cake and a Crown”, but in a travesty of justice Juls was denied the throne on his birthday.

Defrosted and enjoying the sanctuary of our hosts home we left late the next day and after a quick but pleasant night in Reims, we were gunning it for Calais; the gateway to Great Britain. Mother Nature, however, had other ideas. We were buffeted by galing 130km/h winds all day and had to stop and wait out the weather a couple of times as rain pelted down and the wind threatened to blow us off the road. We were within 50 km of Calias when the weather turned so bad that we couldn’t go on – marooned in the countryside. Just as dark started to set in, the weather broke momentarily, so we gratefully took the opportunity and covered the final stretch like mice when the cat sleeps.

We woke Thursday, still a day before our ferry booking, to find that all ferries had been cancelled due to high winds and huge waves. Juls and Mungo ventured into nature’s power taking the camera out for more Extreme Documentary Footage, buffeted by sand and seaspray. We later learnt watching the news that French TV had similar ideas showing all our shots we’d taken. Friday, our last chance to cross to make the arrival party on Saturday. In a stroke of Odyssey luck our last day in France dawned clear blue, allowing us to cross to Dover, 75 Miles from London. We spent the second to last night of the trip enjoying quiet drinks and talking about what the future held post-Odyssey.

-Phill planned to stay on and work in the United Kingdom having job interviews on the Monday
-Mungo was to visit a brother snowboarding in France and return home within a month
-Juls planned to look for work in England and abroad to pay off his debt to the New Zealand IRD
-Nic planned to head back to New Zealand after a month of earning the Pound to begin on the doco

Life was becoming all too real... were we really ready for this jump forward?

We met Josh Twaddle at Tower Bridge for some filming. He followed in a Taxi, us darting among the Audi’s, the Porsche’s, the Austin Martin’s and the other shiney new cars of first world economy. We got hold of Sausage, our main man on party detail, getting the run down of the nights’ proceedings. We stalled in a pub, waiting for 7 or 8pm. We ate Cod & Chips at a Greek owned Chippie. We got a beer in another pub. Very quickly drank the beer because now late. Sausage: "See you at 8, and don’t be late!" It was 8:05... Nerves built up from six months riding now reared their heads.

On the bikes one last time riding together. Riding past the queing traffic. Engines revving. Us yelling. Past the big red buses. Sausage lay ahead waiting for us. He stopped us and ran back in to choreograph the arrival with music. Signal was go, go, go GO GO GO GO!!!! The lights were red but that didn’t matter. Around the corner. There it lay, a hole in the side of a building. Inside were the warm dim orange lights of an English pub and a mass of people all looking at us.

Us inside, the bikes took us in. Revving engines and yelling people and clapping and cheering and whistling filled the room in harmony. These people were as pleased as we were to be here. Look at their faces!!! They’re loving it!!!

The champagne came. In true motor race finishing tradition we sprayed anyone close to us. We hugged anyone close to us. Yelling and cheersing and laughing we had smiles no one could take away, they were six months earnt. The night progressed into a barrage of short story reminiscing and recollections. Too many conversations were cut short, too many were left wanting more stories. But this was party time. This was celebration time and what a better way to mark an occasion and the end than to shave. Standing on a self made stage with a pair of scissors we were debearded, we were pirates no more.

Unfortunately midshave the pub lights-on-music-off we were to leave. Shaving shifted into overdrive with teams now tackling the patchy remnants with 20 disposable razors for £3. By the time we’d finished only a few stayers remained, not many saw our especially bought suits we’d purchased for the occasion. The Odyssey, now smartly dressed, was out on the road once more in search of something new. This time perhaps not as epic as the previous goal, but a new adventure nonetheless.

In the morning we regrouped back at the Larrik wearing the same suits and said our farewells. Goodbye African Odyssey, till next time.

View the Chronicle images here

The African Odyssey was completed on 20th January 2007 when we arrived in London. We have summarised the trip by country below, check it out! The crew are now rejoining the real world in New Zealand or abroad, and starting work on creating the documentary from the 75 hours of high definition footage we captured. We will update the progress of the documentary process on this website, so stay tuned to hear how it is going. A massive thankyou to the countless good people who we encountered along the way, you made the trip the unforgetable and once in a lifetime experience that it was. Your hospitality, kindness and humanity will not be forgotten.

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WE MADE IT!!

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