Su Shi

Suntem cuplul Ionut - la ghidonul motocicletei si Ana, carcoting in spate. Inspirati de documentarele lui Sir David Attenborough, animati de o ruptura de tendon achilian si calatorii trecute in Sri Lanka, Hong Kong si Asia de sud-est, iata-ne traindu-ne un vis. Planuim calatoria asta de doi ani si ne pregatim pentru ea de unul, si, dupa un stupid accident, in urma caruia cu doar cateva zile inainte de plecare Ionut a fost bagat in spital de un sofer neatent, pe 11 iunie 2011, cu 9 luni intarziere, am plecat in sfarsit in marea aventura. Inceputul a fost cu emotii: van-ul in care am urcat motorul ne-a lasat in drum la 300km de Livorno, de unde am luat ferry-ul cu destinatia Tanger Med, Maroc, tara in care am decis sa ne facem timp de o luna "mana" pentru Africa. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Motociclist de peste 6 ani, in special pe motoare de strada (fost posesor Hornet '98 si '07), am ales pentru calatoria RTW in doi o Yamaha Tenere (stiind ca nu exista motocicleta perfecta, ci doar vointa de a face acest drum). Sufletul primei mele Tenere - distrusa in accident - ne poarta in calatorie intr-o alta Tenere, mai noua, dar initial cu mai multi km la bord, dupa ce am facut chiar eu un engine-swap. Prima Tenere, pe care am adus o din Germania pe roti. GPS mount + case impermeabil. Kev Mod - de pe xt660.com Prima Tenere in fata garajului cu tobele custom Leo Vince. Supersprox. Scottoiler. Pe noua moto am pus un touring Scottoiler cu dual-injector. Suport cutii Alu. Merci RADU (sudura-aluminiu.ro) Upgrade suspense: Hyperpro Combo kit. Manete scurte Alu (de pe ebay). Unifilter foam filter. ACCIDENTUL. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge A 2 a Tenere a ajuns. Motorul de pe prima Tenere (in fungal) urma sa fie mutat pe noua moto. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 1500) - Click image to enlarge Motocicleta are urmatoarele modificari/ upgrade-uri: - furtune de frana fata/spate cu insertie din otel - parbriz inalt Givi - mount GPS + incarcare directa la baterie si backup - protectie radiator custom - scut aluminiu G-IT + crashbar combo - pivot pegs MK3 - filtru de aer din spuma Unifilter - Kev mod (de pe xt660.com) - ghidon Renthal Dakar fatbar cu protectii KTM din plastic si gripuri din spuma rallyride - geanta de rezervor Hein Greike - evacuare dubla custom Leo Vince SBK (+ custom dB killer) - sprocket fata JT cu 14 dinti - Scottoiler touring - rack custom pentru cutii aluTech 41l - topcase Gobi, Hepko & Becker - invertor 150W pentru incarcare mobil/laptop - suspensie Hyperpro (arcuri progresive fata + ulei 15W si arc progresiv spate) Avem cu noi o multime de piese de schimb, camere de rezerva si instrumente pentru service, compresor si un schimb de cauciuri cu crampoane pentru mai tarziu. Pe langa pregatirea fitness, mai avem in bagaje urmatoarele esentiale si articole geeky: - cort 3 pers. 3 sezoane The North Face Roadrunner - sac de dormit 2 pers. The North Face Twin Peaks + liner MSR + saltele gonflabile Mammoth - aragaz MSR pe benzina, vas inox, briceag, 2 lanterne de cap Petzl + lanterna de rezerva, binoclu, maceta, busola, prosoape MSR, saci hidroizolanti si de compresie, filtru de apa si tablete de purificare - foto: 5DMKII + 20D bodies, lentile: 24 f/1.4, 70-200 f/2.8, Sigma 10-20 F/4-5.6; mini-printer Polaroid Pogo; Macbook 13"; GPS - kit prim ajutor (comprese sterile, leucoplast, foarfece, ace de sutura + anestezic, bethadina, Baneocin, antihistaminic Clartec, Malarone, pastile diaree, calciu, saruri de rehidratare, gel antibacterial, unguent ayurvedic Siddhaleppa pentru dureri/raceala/piscaturi insecte, termometru, spray tantari 50% DDET, crema solara 50+, colir ochi, antibiotice, aspirina, Ibuprofen, talc, manusi). Pentru Maroc nu sunt necesare vaccinuri, dar pentru restul Africii noi am facut urmatoarele (la clinica Raymong Poincare din Paris, de trei ori mai ieftin decat la Babes in Bucuresti): - febra galbena (Stamaril); se emite un certificat international, necesar ptr. vize si intrare in anumite tari - febra tifoida (Typherix) - hepatita A (Havrix) - polio (Repevax) - antitetanos Optional se poate face vaccin antirabic, noi nu am facut. Echipament moto: casti Arai Tour X3 + Shoei XR1100, jacheta Rev'It Offtrack + pantaloni Sand si combo Turbine ptr. dame, cu cizme Gaerne; ce mai avem la noi: 3 tricouri fiecare, costum de inot, sosete moto + manusi, pantalni Thai de panza, papuci, 1 pereche pantaloni scurti fiecare, esarfa, 1 cearsaf de bumbac (foarte folositor pentru picnicuri si protectie de soare/vant), ochelari de soare, vizor de rezerva pentru rider, harti GPS, carti si ghiduri PDF. In Mauritania am inceput sa caram o canistra de 5l cu benzina si un bidon din plastic imbracat in rafie cu 5l apa (am invatat trickul de la localnici). De cele mai multe ori campam sub cerul liber, uneori in campinguri sau ne oprim pentru o noapte-doua in auberge-uri cand nu avem unde campa sau vrem sa facem un dus cald si sa ne spalam hainele. Mancam ce mananca si localnicii, in piete, pe strada sau in restaurantele animate, si gatim atunci cand gasim produse proaspete. In 7000km am avut putine batai de cap cu intretinerea/service: un schimb de ulei (amanat din Bucuresti), lant schimbat (in mod bizar, lantulului aproape nou i-au sarit din o-ringuri, ceea ce l-a facut sa fie din ce in ce mai rigid), improvizat sigurante pentru lantul nou (dupa ce siguranta originala a cazut, poate de la solicitarile offroad). Bushcamping in Rabat. Bucataria noastra mobila. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Schimb de ulei in camping. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Calul nostru de povara. Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Resized to 80% (was 1000 x 667) - Click image to enlarge Ultima noapte de dragoste, intaia noapte de razboi Marti la 10.30 am ajuns in Tanger Med, noul port marocan, pe la 13.30 formalitatile de vama sunt rezolvate si in sfarsit incepem sa rulam pe asfalt African. Mergem pe buza oceanului, adie o briza puternica, miroase a camp, a peste si a bine. Pentru ca am ales de acasa sa campam prima noapte mai jost de Tanger, traversam orasul destul de rapid si in drum spre destinatia noastra bem primul fresh de portocale (6 dirhami, adica 2,25 lei, extraordinar de bun). Dupa Tanger luam prima masa intr-un sa-i zicem bistro la sosea, genul de restaurant cu mici de pe marginea drumurilor in Romania. Mancarea este foarte buna: kafta (kebap) si cotlete de oaie la gratar cu salata de rosii, ardei, morcov si ceapa rosie, udate cu ceai de menta proaspata si apa rece. Macelarul a vrut sa l tragem in poza Mai tarziu luam un ceai cu lapte intr-o cafenea chill din Larache, un oras linistit de pescari. In cafenea ne ocupam cu logarea la net, cu modemul Meditel(180 Drh/1 luna acces nelimitat) si bagam SIM ul de Maroc. Tel nostru in tara este (00212)656901243. La terasa un marocan cu fetita este primul care vorbeste franceza. Saaid este tehnician pe un vas de pescuit si ne invata cate ceva in araba, mai sporovaim despre Romania si Maroc, si aflam de la el ca musulmanii spun ca cu pestele e cu atat mai delicios cu cat te apropii de Mecca. Ne gandim sa ne aprovizionam pentru prima noapte la cort, asa ca in Larache facem si piata: rosii, ceapa, ardei, vinete (3Drh/kg), apa (5 Drh/1,5l), nuci de pin –adica direct conul un pic bagat in jar (1Drh/pc.), smochine proaspete(7Drh/kg), carnati de oaie(70 Drh/kg), lipie(1 drh/buc). Preturile se dubleaza sau tripleaza sub ochii nostri in functie de cum ne citesc vanzatorii, dar tot e placut de targuim printre tarabele pline de legume care arata putin atinse de pesticide. Cu siguranta nu sunt toate bio, pentru ca e plin de chinezi si aici, oamenii au imitatii de crocs in picioare si rezidentialele fantoma se construiesc cu logistica si bani din China, dar mancarea area gust si miroase a the real thing. Vom reveni cu un film din piata. Abia dovedind greutatea noilor bagaje, ne indreptam catre planificata cazare. Bineinteles ca socoteala de acasa nu se potriveste cu cea din targ: drumul catre locul de campat prima noapte se dovedeste a fi un amestec de asfalt, pamant si zone cu nisip adanc de 10-20 de cm. Navigam cu dificultate printr-un labirint de sate si terenuri agricole in cautarea lagunei Merza Zeerga, insa combo-ul motocicleta supraincarcata, cauciucuri de strada si zone cu nisip adanc este unul fatal: inevitabil cadem, si de fiecare data ne ridicam mai extenuati, laguna nu pare a fi nicaieri, oamenii nu vorbesc decat araba si nu au idee ce cautam si soarele apune. Transpirati, plini de nisip, luam decizia de a pleca spre Rabat, unde ajungem mult dupa miezul noptii. In bezna locul de campat e greu de ales, pe la 3.30 reusim totul sa punem capul jos, in cortul intins pe ceea ce dimineata am descoperit a fi o faleza preferata de joggerii din oras. Toata noaptea oceanul bate in faleza si dormim putin, pana pe la 8.30, cand luam un mic dejun in cafeneaua de vizavi, cu ochii pe motor si cort: cafea cu lapte, apa rece si un fel de merdenea unsa cu miere. Primul bush camping spot, cam panica… Urmatorul obiectiv: ambasada Mali, unde aplicam pentru viza, apoi mai dam un tur prin Rabat dar la pranz soarele e scorching hot si mai bine ne orientam din timp dupa un loc de campat pentru la noapte. Spre Casablanca gasim un loc ok, la vreo 20 de km de Rabat. Ne instalam cortul sub niste copacei pe malul unui lac/rau care formeaza la intrarea in ocean un fel de estuar populat de tot felul de pasari. Plaja e nice, dar plina de gunoaie, un fel de Giurgiu dar mai murdar, pacat, pentru ca locul e genial. Moto ramane parcata vizavi de cort, peste apa, ceea ce face transportul lucrurilor cam anevoios. Pana Ionut trage o fuga dupa ceva de mancare, niste marocani care o ard la picnic la copacelul vecin ne invita sa mancam impreuna cum e gata “la tagine marocaine”. Barbatii sunt frati, fata e prietena lui Ehuadine, tipul cu sapca. Asa ca primul contact cu tagine este cat se poate de autentic, gatit chiar pe plaja, la butelie, din peste proaspat pescuit de dimineata din ocean, legume, masline, servit cu mana ajutata de paine. Toti mancam desigur din chiar vasul in care s a fiert mancarica. Contribuim si noi cu niste carne de miel facuta la cuptor de lut si apa, aduse de Ionut din primul sat, de unde a cumparat si niste legume. Second camping spot, ceva mai chill, am stat aici doua nopti Baby you’ve got a stew going Prepararea unei mese cand stai la cort pe o plaja fara acces la apa potabila dureaza cateva ore, dar rezultatul final merita tot efortul. Am luat oua (de bibilica?, coaja era groasa cam de 1,5mm!!, galbenusul cremos si gustos) 2Drh/buc, ambalate dupa cum se vede. Am taiat niste dovlecei, rosii, ardei, am sotat doar cu sare de Guerande (lol!!! de acasa…) o ceapa rosie, am pus si o vanata coapta mai devreme. A iesit un ghiveci de legume neasteptat de savuros, pe care l am mancat cu oua fierte, paine marocana, iar mai tarziu am avut la desert un pepene rosu. Agricultura este de baza aici, totul este cultivat, plantat, se folosesc ceva pesticide, mai ales in utima vreme, dar inca legumele au savoare. Asta inseamna si ca peisajul rural este dramatic modificat, desertificat din cauza defrisarilor si managerierii terenului. Despre zonele urbane am scris in Romania vs.: in orase balonul imobiliar a bubuit, dar ca la noi, santierel continua dintr-o inertie care frizeaza absurdul. Con de pin, nucile sunt inca prea crude Pe marginea drumului se gaseste snackul ideal in arsita pranzului, care poate fi la fel de bine o masa in sine: couscous cu iaurt rece de vaca, nedegresat, cu un gust puternic de fanet. Poti sa ti pui peste zahar sau sare, dupa gust. Mie imi place simplu. E delicios si costa 3 dirhami. Dimineata bateria motorului era descarcata (asa am aflat ca invertorul pe care il folosim pentru a incarca laptopul nu are protectie) si am avut noroc sa gasim intr un santier peste sosea pe cineva care sa aiba si cabluri si sa fie si dispus sa ne ajute. Meknes Pentru ca am gasit un camping foarte ieftin in care suntem singuri, am hotarat sa facem baza aici, adica la circa 15 km de Meknes. Fondat de berberi in sec. X, Meknes a capatat statut de oras imperial abia sapte secole mai tarziu. Ca toate localitatile marocane, este divizat in medina (orasul vechi) si la ville nouvelle (orasul nou, construit in timpul protectoratului francez) de un bulevard care poarta numele unui sultan (de obicei Hassan II sau V). Intrarea in medina din Meknes se face prin poarta Bab el-Mansour acoperita de zelij(mozaic) si decoratii tipice marocane, direct in piata el-Hedim. In piata sunt aliniate restaurante pentru turistii care sunt adusi cu diba de ghizi: pizza, panini si alte enormitati. Mancarea buna e de gasit ceva mai departe, dupa ce faci stanga prin spatele pietii si intri in souk. De aici intri intr-un labirint de stradute cu tarabe cu mancare, fructe si condimente, ateliere de artizanat si mestesugarit in care se face mobila sculptata din lemn sau din fier forjat, se taie si termopane, se brodeaza si se tese matase, se fac papuci, se prelucreaza metal etc. Ca in bazarul tucesc, strazile sunt dedicate unuei categorii de ocupatii sau alimentelor. Din loc in loc (mai putin in Maeknes decat in Fez) sunt cismele publice cu apa potabila. Medina este si ea impartita in doua zone: una comerciala si de manufactura si una rezidentiala. In miezul zilei aerul este fierbinte si soarele arde culorile. Pentru a se racori, localnicii beau ceai de menta fierbinte, indulcit cu foarte mult zahar. Marocanii obisnuiti nu au suficienti bani pentru a servi masa in oras, chiar daca tarabele cu kafta par ieftine, si aleg sa petreaca cateva ore la o cafea. De altfel cultura cafenelelor e un aspect dominant in societatea marocana. In cel mai modest satuc si in marele orase sunt peste tot asa numitele salon de the, unde 99% din clienti sunt barbati. Inca de dimineata ei sunt la “datorie” si ii gasesti la un pahar de vorba (paharul fiind un espresso f aromat cu lapte servit cu un pahar de apa rece sau un ceai de menta proaspata) pana seara tarziu. O cafea inseamna cel putin doua ore petrecute in compania prietenilor, la taifas. Unde sunt femeile? Se pare ca sunt la treaba, pregatind revolutia care va schimba fata africii in curand. Dar mai mult despre asta mai tarziu. Poarta Bab el-Mansour Un stand de masline in Meknes, intr-un cartier foarte animat cu cafenele si piata de fructe si legume. Zona parea frecventata doar de localnici, de altfel Meknes nu e tocmai un oras turistic, am vazut poate 20 de turisti in 2 zile, insa poate tocmai de acceea si a pastrat aerul autentic si atmosfera de chillUn grup vesel care a dorit sa le facem o poza, ne am dus a doua zi sa le-o si oferim tiparita si s au bucurat foarte tare In medina am mancat b’sara, versiunea marocana a supei de linte, aici facuta din foul, se serveste cu mult ulei de masline aromat cu usturoi, chimen, ardei iute si paine.Painea marocana este o paine plata, ca un frisbee, se coace in cuptor de lut pana capata o crusta subtire iar miezul ramane pufos. Crusta are un crunch data de un praf de malai, yummy! Dunking the bread in the harira. Pentru ca in cafenele nu se serveste mancare, iti poti lua d ale gurii de vizavi si le poti consuma fara probleme. In medina din Meknes oamenii sunt foarte relaxati si preturile pe bune, nu a incercat nimeni sa ne dea o teapa ca pentru turisti. In rest mai peste tot preturile o iau razna in functie de cum te scaneaza vanzatorul. Aici supa a fost 5 dirhami/portia. Un stand cu tot ce trebuie pentru broderie in matase Graffiti in medina Cismelele sunt sursa de apa potabila in medina No commentNota: ca si in alte zone turistice, ghizii in tarile musulmane sunt o mica problema. Meknes, nefiind super turistic, nu e plin de ei, ii vei intalni mai curand in piata sau in prima parte a medinei, pe la standurilede bijuterii si pantofi. La, shukran (nu, multumesc) repetat ajuta, iar experienta este utila in Fez si Marrakech. Workingman’s Death

Bucuresti - Cape Town Am ajuns in Cape Town la finalul unui maraton de 84 de ore si 1900 de kilometri, inceput in capitala Namibiei. Primii nomazi pe o motocicleta, veniti din Romania pana in Africa de Sud. O luna imensa, galbena, o naluca, peste un oras, peste doua oceane. Jumatatea, sau abia miezul unei aventuri care dureaza de noua luni, pe care am visat-o o viata. Flash Forward In curand, continuarea aventurii Into The World

In curand, continuarea aventurii Into The World / Stay tuned for the continuation of Into The World Sursa

Am ajuns in Cape Town la finalul unui maraton de 84 de ore si 1900 de kilometri, inceput in capitala Namibiei. Primii nomazi pe o motocicleta, veniti din Romania pana in Africa de Sud. O luna imensa, galbena, o naluca, peste un oras, peste doua oceane. Jumatatea, sau abia miezul unei aventuri care dureaza de noua luni, pe care am visat-o o viata. We’re in Cape Town, after a marathon from the Namibian capital: 84 hours and 1900 kilometers. Finally the first Romanian nomads arrived by bike in South Africa. The yellow moon, the original moon, shone ghostly upon the town and upon two oceans. We’re halfway, or maybe just at the beginning, of an incredible adventure that’s been going for over nine months, that we’ve been dreaming about for a lifetime. Sursa

Namibia 01-11 martie/ 1st-11th of March Windhoek. Singurul loc din lume in care numele lui Nelson Mandela si Mugabe sunt amestecate in aceeasi salata politica trebuia parasit in cel mai scurt timp. In fond venisem doar pentru a obtine o viza (bifat!) si pentru a cauta un service prietenos, plus piese de schimb pentru Tenere (amanate). Singura cumparatura pe care ne-am putut-o permite in capitala cat Galatiul a Namibiei, a fost prea necesara inlocuire a gumelor cu un set Heidenau K60 Scout. Solide in aparenta, speram ca sunt ultimul set pe care il montam in Africa! Am curatat si gresat glisierele de la etrieri, problema este ca la un etrier fata cauciucul de protectie este crapat: asta ma obliga sa fac intretinerea mai des. Despre uleiul anapoda (Bel Ray 20W50) pe care ni l-a vandut, la un pret nesimtit, reprezentanta Yamaha, alta data. Spun doar ca l-am schimbat, era musai, dar de atunci ambreiajul patineaza. Windhoek. We needed to leave asap the only place in the world where the names of Nelson Mandela and Robert Mugabe meet at the same crossroads. After all, we had come only to collect a visa (done!), and to locate a friendly garage and supplier for spares to do some maintenance work on our Yamaha (postponed). The only shopping we could afford was a set of Heidenau K60 Scout. Looking quite solid, hopefully these are the last we shave on African roads. One front caliper rubber is broken, so I cleaned the caliper boots, something that needs to be done more regularly from now on. It was also imperative to change the oil, and the only option at that time was the Yamaha dealership. Huge prices there, all I’ll say is that since I put on the Bel Ray 20W50, the clutch started to slip. Windhoek, where Mugabe + Mandela = L.O.V.E. Am platit doua locuri in dormitorul mixt din hostel, chiar daca ne-am inghesuit intr-un singur pat. Singura noastra consolare: wifi decent. The only somewhat affordable accommodation in Windhoek was this backpackers joint. We paid two beds, but of course we cuddled in one, happy that at least we had a decent wifi connection. La treaba, in curtea hostelului. Noroc ca sezonul ploios tocmai se incheia. I am having some work done in the hostel yard. TKC80 terminate TKC80, done Lasam in urma o saptamana plina: sarbatorisem, nu in Cape Town, dar intre prieteni, ziua Anei. Ne intalnisem, pe drumul catre Windhoek, cu trei baieti pe biciclete hotarati sa faca, impreuna cu un catel, drumul dintre Cape Town si Berlin. Iar norii, dintr-o data tacuti, se adunau in aceleasi culori tipatoare seara de seara, insa curcubeele lor se risipeau, prea scurte acum, pe final de sezon ploios, pentru a lega cer si pamant. Numai semne bune. We had had a pretty intense week: Ana’s b-day party, not in Cape Town, as planned, but among lovely people. We had also encountered 3 German dudes and their dog, determined to bicycle from Cape Town to Berlin in 4 months. Ahead of us, the rainy season was cooling off, epic cloudscapes still threatening with thunder, but already too week to spread their rainbows downy to the earth. Dry season was nearing, and we were loving the news. Bere, vin, braai si fete vesele (Melissa si Ana) Beer, wine, braai and two joyful girls (Melissa and Ana) Merlot indulcit sub soarele sud-african South African Merlot Intalnire cu Daniel 1, Daniel 2 si Pirco. Nomazi ca si noi, dar pe biciclete si insotiti de un patruped fidel Meeting our fellow nomads, Daniel 1, Daniel 2 and Pirco Am schimbat informatii despre vize si malarie… Important health and visa information was exchanged… Norii au agatat un curcubeu la uscat… Clouds stretched a fading rainbow above… Am campat sub stele, si luna a rasarit imensa, plina We pitched out nomad home under the stars and at 9 p.m. a full moon cast shadows over the veld Soarele nu s-a lasat mai prejos A cheeky sun followed up the next morning Auzisem, dar nu ne asteptam, ca drumul, putin umblat, dintre Windhoek si Namib Naukluft sa fie atat de frumos. Gatuit intr-o fabuloasa succesiune de trecatori, pietrisul s-a asternut serpuit, de-a curmezisul campurilor aurii cu pompe eoliene de apa si turme de babuini in cojoc cafeniu, apoi mai sus, peste culmi cu grohotis de cuart in care citeam propunerile pentru kuler ale florilor de munte. The little used road that links Windhoek to the southern part of Namib Naukluft was supposedly beautiful, but the ride exceeded our expectations. The gravel swirled up across a breathtaking succession of passes, hairpins cut through golden veld punctuated by wind-powered water pumps, travelled by families of thick furred baboons. Wild flowers were putting kuler to shame and quartz filtered the last rays of the day. Dintr-o data, in labiritul ametitor de ace de par, in orizontala indiferenta a gardurilor de sarma, o sansa, o oportunitate. Fructificata la maxim, pentru un bivuac de milioane. I spotted a breach in this alpine bungee, in the monotonous horizontal of wire fencing, a chance, an opportunity. So I took it, and found another stunning wild camp. Bolovani translucizi… cum sa ramanem ‘de piatra’? Translucent boulders scattered Fler de nomad, pe bune! De multe luni ‘mirosim’ de departe locul potrivit pentru a pune cortul. Months of wild camping paid off: we had become pretty good at smelling a good spot Un soare apune… Another sunset… O luna rasare! Another moonrise! Un foc de tabara pentru a face fata vantoasei, un somn odihnitor in aer de munte si o dimineata aspra, rece, spartana. Dar cateva ore mai jos, in miezul desertului celui mai batran din lume, nisipul si lumina sunt incinse la zeci de grade bune mai sus. Treceam, pentru prima oara, Tropicul Capricornului, si, pana sa imortalizam evenimentul, a trecut pe langa noi, apoi a facut cale intoarsa si s-a oprit la taclale un sud-african pe un BMW F 650 Dakar. Reiner este biolog si urma sa ne tina (partial) companie prin desert intr-un maraton de 3 zile si jumatate, care avea sa se incheie in orasul sau natal, Cape Town. Pentru inceput, am impartit felii de rasfat in brutaria din Solitaire, apoi bere in barul chic din Sesriem, de ciuda ca nu ne permiteam un safari pe dune. Dar drumul ne-a consolat cu ace de par intre plete de piatra si cu fabuloase turme de animale libere, sute de antilope, zebre, girafe si struti, raspandite de-a lungul unei variante putin umblate, dar pe care Reiner o stia dintr-un trip trecut. We gathered near a fire, then the strong cold wind forced us inside. The spartan morning was fast, wind still blowing untamed, but luckily the air got hotter as we descent down to the desert. Our first stop was at the Tropic of Capricorn signpost. We were preparing to take the compulsory photo, when a guy on a BMW F 650 Dakar passed by. Minutes later Reiner, original from Cape Town and just returning from a 3 week solo ride through the region, came back. It was the beginning of a fun 3 and a half day marathon to the Mother Town; sometimes we rode together, sometimes we separated, only to meet again for a pie in Solitaire, a beer in Sesriem, or a chat about how we could not afford the ridiculous price for a safari in the famous Dead Vlei (another park forbidden to motorbikes). The gravel roads were excellent, wide and empty, only vast herds of hundreds of zebras, springboks, oryx, giraffes and ostriches shared them with us. Departe de Ecuator, amintindu-ne cu nostalgie si de Sahara Far from the Ecuator, memories of Sahara also lingered Riderii se inteleg din priviri: pietrisul era palid, cerul adanc, ploaia ameninta tacuta. Dar am intrat in ochiul negru al furtunii, increzatori ca vom gasi dincolo de orizont o oaza de liniste, un bivuac confortabil, si poate un curcubeu. Riders understand each other: the gravel was fair, the sky deep, the rain threatened to come. But we rev our bikes into the black eye of the storm, confident that we would find over the next horizon a quiet place to camp. Aerul era sarat, peste intinderea stearpa de nisip si acacia o lumina purpurie, stranie. Dar adevarata drama se arcuia deasupra. Curcubeul, dublu, rotund, sub care ne-am intins tabara, un ultim popas inaintea ultimilor 590 de kilometri de drum pana la canion. The smell of dry desert lingered, but the real drama was unfolding above; we needed to stop before the last 590 kilometers to the canyon and we knew had found the right spot, under yet another epic rainbow. Dupa show-ul fabulous al apusului, dimineata a fost proaspata, clara: am rulat bine de-a lungul dunelor care iau nastere la mii de kilometri distanta, la izvoarele fluviului Orange, in masivul Drakensberg, apoi sunt maturate pe costa Namibiei de inghetatul curent Benguela. Dunele cu inaltimi record din desertul Namib alcatuiesc unul dintre cele mai aride si mai extreme ecosisteme din lume. Pe umerii lor aramii, fragilul detritus, un strat de resturi organice si vegetale care constituie sursa de baza pentru hrana si apa in desert. Dupa o noapte cu ceata, detritus poate contine apa in proportie de pana la 60% din masa totala, pentru ca in timpul zilei procentul sa scada la 2-4%! After the fabulous show of the sunset, the morning felt calm and clear: we rode along the scarlet dunes of the desert, born thousands of miles away, in the Drakensberg mountains, from where the Orange River sweeps ochre sand into the cold Benguela current. The massive dunes - one of the most extreme and inhospitable ecosystems in the world - are stingily covered with detritus. This fragile layer of dry and dead plant and animal debris is the basis of food web in the desert. After a good night of fog, it can contain up to 60% of its weight in water, and as low as 2-4% during the day. Reiner Cateva ore de condus prin arsita si ajungeam, in sfarsit, aproape de ultima tinta pe itinerariul namibian. Unde aveam sa ne regasim, la o bere, cu Reiner. A few hours of non-stop riding later we had arrived at the last turn towards our last Namibian target. Which we celebrated with the last couple of beers with Reiner. Windhoek Lager rece, un plin de benzina si inca o opintire: in cateva zeci de kilometri intram, ‘triumfal’, in cel ce-al doilea canion ca marime din lume. Fish River Canyon se casca brusc, 160 km de lung, 27 km de lat, 550 metri de adanc. Pentru ca vara era deja pe sfarsite, raul, care de 650 de milioane de ani macina necontenit dolomitul, abia umplea cateva balti pe fundul haului. Crisp Windhoek Lager, another tank filled and another stretch of gravel to the second largest canyon in the world and the largest in Africa. Fish River Canyon opened below into a gigantic dolomite ravine, some 160 km long, up to 27 km wide and 550 metres deep. The river, 650 million years old, cuts intermittently into the dry, stony plateau, sparsely covered with drought-resistant plants. But it was the end of summer, so only a few long narrow pools still lingered. Am pornit spre locul de re-intalnire cu Reiner cand se facea deja noapte. In Africa soarele sprinteaza sub orizont, am invatat demult ca trebuie sa ne cautam din timp un loc de campat. De data asta insa, nu am avut de ales. Am mers cat mai incet, cat mai atent, lasand loc de trecere pentru zebrele si antilopele kudu trezite din somn de zgomotul tobelor. Obositi, am decis sa ne punem cortul afara din rezervatie, astfel Reiner avea sa ne zareasca, pentru a-si lua ramas bun, pe drumul catre granita. We spend a bit too much time gazing into the canyon, witting for the sun to set, snacking on a brief dinner. Setting off in the already deep darkness, we knew it was too late to reach our meeting point with Reiner. Riding at low visibility avoiding the wildlife proved quite demanding, so soon after we could exit the protected area we stopped to set camp. Un bivuac singuratic, doar chemarile sacalilor condimentand linistea desertului A lonely, romantic place, only the jackals kept calling into the night Ultimul rasarit in Namibia. Urmatorul soare avea sa ne dea trezirea in Africa de Sud, unde urma sa parcam, cu mandrie, primul motor care a batut drumul tocmai din Bucuresti pana in Cape Town. The last sunrise in Namibia. The next one would happen on South African territory, where we were about to proudly set a record, driving the first motorbike from Bucharest to Cape Town. Treptat, ascutisurile de piatra s-au potolit, drumul a devenit nisipos, selenar. Inaintea noastra se asternea infinitul, capatul lumii. Orizontala ne ardea retina: albastru plat si maro, cer si desert, atat. Intre ele, noi doi, increduli ca nu am gresit directia, ca dincolo de pustiu nimicul va redeveni ceva. Kilometer by kilometer the sheer rock faded away into an infinite moonscape. It was the end of the world. Blue, flat, an artificial-looking sky floated upon an even stranger papier-mâché of sand and brittle gravel. Was that the right way? How could that surreal nothingness become something again? Asfaltul, stranie creatie! Dintr-o data l-am regasit, taind cu cruzime desertul, ducand, drept, sec, catre o granita importanta. Granita dintre Africa neagra, profunda, muma, si America Africii. But suddenly we saw the tarmac snake, a cruel, perfect cut across the desert, leading straight to one of the most important borders, the one that separates black, vernacular Africa from the African America. Aveam fluturi in stomac: ajungeam, dupa noua luni cat noua vieti, in Africa de Sud! Intram din nou, dupa frontierele fundamentale dintre Mauritania si Mali, dintre Benin si Nigeria si dintre RDC si Zambia, pe taram necunoscut. Am strans sub pleoape soarele fierbinte, si i-am dat gaz. We had butterflies in our stomach: we would soon cross, after nine months as intense as nine lives, into South Africa. After the fundamental Mauritania - Mali, Benin - Nigeria and DRC Zambia frontiers, we ventured again, full throttle, into the unknown. Sursa

Asa a inceput ziua: cu sute de antilope Sprinbok, zeci de girafe si Oryx. Plecasem, noi doi si nebunul de Vital, in ceea ce avea sa devina un trip gen Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, in cazul nostru insa numai pe baza de alcool. That’s how our day begun: hundreds of Springboks, dozens of giraffes and oryx. We had embarked, the two of us, plus Vital, on what was to become our own booze fueled Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas trip. Intai a trebuit sa ne conformam traditiei si sa bem o sticla de lichior de ginger pentru a evita o pana pe drum. Asa ca am tras la bodega din catun, pentru tarie si bere. Aici, o zi normala de luni: lumea o ardea la o barfa, biliard cu minge de golf, o fisa la automatul de poker, muzica la maxim din jukebox, liquid-dancing… First we needed to observe the tradition and drink a bottle of ginger spirit, to avoid a flat tyre. At the next village joint, where we stopped to stock on the lucky-charm drink and beer, a regular Monday was at play: people were chatting and liquid-dancing to the blasting jukebox, pool was being played with a golf ball, nickels were being dropped in the poker machine. Apoi harta a devenit inutila. La capatul drumului incepea adevarata calatorie. Inaintea noastra se intindea cel mai vechi desert din lume, pro-Namib, iar in aparenta pustietate, in implauzibila naluca, nimeni. Iarba uscata lasa din cand in cand sa se vada pamantul, in zone circulare cu diametrul de 5-8 metri, ca niste enigmatice urme ale unor farfurii zburatoare demult disparute. Then we were out of the map. The end of the road was only the beginning of the journey. We were driving across the unpeopled, formless, oldest desert in the world, the pro-Namib. The vacancy, the remoteness, the sheer implausibility of the place was astonishing. Wisps of dry shrubs covered the earth with a scabby pattern of circular, barren patches, like enigmatic landing spots of some past flying saucers. The average diameter of these patches: 5–8 m! Acestea sunt “inelele de zane” din Namibia, unul dintre cele mai misterioase fenomene observate in regiunile desertice ale sudului Africii. Pana in ziua de zi, studiile pe specimene de sol prelevate din sit nu au elucidat originea acestei texturi (s-au avansat diferite ipoteze: radioactivitate localizata, actiunea termitelor, compusi chimici eliminati in mediu de Euphorbia damarana etc). Dar permanenta relativa a inelelor de zane sugereaza o legatura critica intre acestea si sanatatea ecosistemului, specialistii considerand ca inelele ar putea fi un fel de mecanism adaptiv prin care este regulata captarea, stocarea si reciclarea resurselor limitate din desertul pro-Namib. These are the so-called ‘fairy rings’ of Namibia, one of the most enigmatic phenomena in the desert regions of southern Africa. To date, the bioassays conducted in soil samples collected from these sites failed to support any proposed explanation for this patterning (localized radioactivity, termite activity, growth inhibitors released by dead Euphorbia damarana plants etc). But the relative permanence of fairy rings in the pro-Namib desert is believed to be critically linked to the optimal functioning of the ecosystem. The fairy rings may be some sort of adaptive response to extreme arid conditions, facilitating capture, storage and recycling of limited resources. Dar ciudateniile peisajului nu se opreau aici. Copacii aveau burtile pline cu apa, bolovanii se sfaramau in placi subtiri, vantul slefuia culmile de lava. Si in mijlocul acestui Oz, un telefon pentru a suna in delir zeii. But this was not the only strange feature of the landscape. Chunky trees rose swollen with water. Crumbling rock scattered. Winds honed lava outcrops. And in this world of the Oz, a lonely telephone, to give a call to the gods. Locul nu este parc national, sau zona protejata, doar localnicii stiu ca aici traiesc in libertate numerosi elefanti si lei de desert, alaturi de alte animale salbatice. This is not officially a wildlife reserve, national park or protected area. But locals know: the place is teeming with wild desert lions and desert elephants, and many other animals. Pentru a patrunde mai adanc in acest vest salbatic, am coborat in albia secata a raului. Fundul nisipos era plin de excremente si urme de elefant. Linistea era deplina si am incercat sa rulam cat mai silentios printre copacii de acacia de circa 15 metri inaltime. Albia era atat de lata, incat demult nu mai zaream malurile raului. Ne simteam liliputani, pierduti intr-un univers enorm, absurd, de neinteles. Aparitia elefantului insa a restabilit scara si logica peisajului. To go deeper into the wild, we had to descend into the dry river bed. The sandy bottom was full of elephant poop and eventually we spotted some foot prints. Everything was so quiet, and we were cruising at almost zero speed, trying to make as little noise as possible. 15 meters high acacia trees shaded the river bed so vast that we were unable to see the banks, our lilliputian vehicle lost, dwarfed, nullified. Then the bull appeared, and suddenly the astonishing scale of the landscape made sense. Elefantul ne-a ingaduit aproape; era atat de liniste incat il puteam auzi rontaind la scoarta. Elefantii de desert nu au nevoie sa bea in fiecare zi si au fildesii mai mici, tociti, datorita dietei mai sarace in nutrienti. Dar masculul acesta era imens. Speram sa-l revedem spre seara, caci urma sa ne instalam tabara in aval, chiar in albia raului. Cat am mai bantuit in cautarea locului potrivit, alte animale ale desertului ne-au aparut, ca niste fantasme, in cale: girafe suple, antilope Oryx, struti, pasari de Guineea… He allowed us to watch, and it was so quiet that we could hear him chewing on bark. Desert elephants don’t need to drink every day and their tusks are smaller, due to the scarcity of nutrients in their environment. But this guy was an impressive size and we were hoping to see him again later, as we would set up camp downstream, into the river bed. Looking for a spot to pitch our tents we met more surreal creatures: slender giraffes, Oryx, ostriches, guinea fowls… Urma de girafa: ghiciti sensul de mers! Giraffe footprint: guess the walking direction! Braai-ul a fost insotit de vin rosu, apoi veni vremea sa ne bagam in pat, adica sub plasele de tantari, unde trageam “in piept’, neintrerupte, imaginea cerului instelat, mirosul uscat de nisip fierbinte si chemarile sacalilor si ale pasarilor de noapte. Am dormit neintorsi. Ne-am trezit cand inca era intuneric: un elefant isi lua o gustare, cativa metri mai incolo si am ascultat fericiti cum natura isi recapata, domol, energia. Bausem ceva alcool in ajun, dar nu halucinam: animalele au mai mult respect pentru noi decat noi pentru ele. In acel moment, in acel loc, oameni si animale eram din nou un intreg, dormisem, ne hranisem, traiam, in armonie, impreuna. Rasaritul a umplut cu o lumina alba, psihedelica, valea. Ramuri moarte zaceau in dune iar florile de desert isi deschideau delicate aromele. We enjoyed more red wine with our braai, then it was time to have some rest. Lying under our mosquito nets, we saw everything, we heard everything. The sky was white with stars, jackals and birds were calling their mates, the river was silent, smelling of heat and sand. It was one of the most relaxing places we ever slept in and we woke up when it was still dark, when the bull from earlier passed by our camp, snacking on more bark. We were humbled by the respect wild animals had for us, keeping the right distance from our camp, allowing us in their home for one surreal night. And we don’t think we were under influence there, it is that simple. We live together, we share, we survive. Of course, the sunrise was just as psychedelic, a white haze filling up the valley, deserts flower delicately scenting the dry, fresh air. S-a fiert ceaiul, s-au mancat sandwichurile, s-au facut bagajele, s-au sters urmele efemerei noastre tabere. Aerul era deja incins, ochii orbiti de lumina, mirosul sufocat de arsita. Sacalii, antilopele, strutii si babuinii isi vedea deja de treburile zilnice. Tea was brewed, sandwiches were fixed, tents were packed, careful to remove all traces of our ephemeral campsite. The sun was obliterating smell and vision, air too hot already. Jackals, antelopes, ostriches, baboons were going about their business. Am ales un drum diferit pentru intoarcere, amanand iesirea din albia uscata, in care radacini imense zaceau marturie a nor moment in care raul readuce la viata valea. Am urmarit o vreme, inca increduli, urme si excremente proaspete de elefanti, in aparenta pui insotiti de adulti. Si cateva curbe mai departe chiar i-am intalnit, la umbra, luandu-si o racoroasa baie de nisip. Going back we took a different way through the river bed, wondering at the huge exposed roots of the trees, unsuccessfully trying to picture the river flooded with water. Some fresh elephant poop and recent footprints appeared: two babies with some adults maybe. Incredulously, we followed them along, and here they were, a bunch of elephant mammas with the little ones, taking a lovely sand bath! In acest taram al ierbivorelor, pradatorii nu ar fi trebuit sa fie prea departe. Si in curand am avut dovada: urme proaspete de lei, pui si adulti, insa animalele au ramas ascunse, camuflate in culorile dulci ale ierbii. With all the antelopes swarming the land, that had to be a predator’s heaven. Soon we met the proof: fresh lion foot prints, lots of them, cubs with adults. We tracked them for a while, thrilled, but of course the lions remained elusive, minding their own business in the perfectly matching colors of the veld. Urma unor pui de leu Lion foot print Laba de leu adult si palma Anei Adult lion paw next to Ana’s hand Pe masura ce ne apropiam de iesirea din albie, nisipul a devenit mlastina, iarba uscata si scaietii au lasat locul unei vegetatii inalte in care un elefant isi facea dusul de noroi. As we drove on, the sandy bottom started oozing water, brittle desert plants giving way to a marshy field of tall grass, where another bull was enjoying his beauty mud bath. Prin cheile de piatra am iesit inapoi in campie: eram la fel de magnetizati ca si cu o zi in urma, insa mai tacuti, nostalgici. Escapada noastra se apropia de sfarsit. Exiting the river bed back into the veld, our party of three was still as boozed as the day before, but more quiet, nostalgic, really. Our awesome escape was coming to a close. La intoarcere ne-am oprit, desigur, pentru o alta sticla de lichior de ginger: doar nu era sa riscam o pana de cauciuc, nu-i asa? La 80 de km de “casa” ne-am amintit insa ca nu e ok sa conduci baut. Lodge-ul din pasul alpin era in drumul nostru, proprietarul e tovaras cu Vital, asa ca era normal sa ne abatem pentru a ne reveni dupa vin si bere. Era momentul pentru cateva randuri de gin tonic. Cabana este construita chiar pe buza canionului, intr-o rezervatie naturala. Acum 132 de miloane de ani Gondwana s-a fragmentat pe aceasta muchie de lava, pe care ploile o transforma inca intr-un peisaj ametitor. Gazdele noastre au fost prea ospitaliere: casa (bungalow eco pe marginea prapastiei), masa (cina de fite). Romani si belgian, ne-am zis, in unanimitate, sa sarbatorim evenimentul cu doua sticle de vin. On our way back we stopped again for the mandatory ginger liquor, but some beers later, 80 kilometers before home, we remembered one must not drink and drive. So we parked at the pass lodge, which belongs to a friend of Vitals, to collect our composure with the aid of several double gin and tonic. The lodge was built in an environmentally friendly way in a pristine conservancy, on the rim of the ancient Gondwana split, among 132 million years old volcanic mountains. But the night was young, the view was stunning, and our generous hosts proposed dinner and bungalows perching on the edge of the canyon. So we stayed. Tempering the pampering with two bottles of red. In tarile noastre asa-zis occidentale, traim departe de natura, de salbaticie. Muncim din greu pentru a mentine distanta. Unele voci insa spun ca am devenit o specie decuplata de la mecanismele vietii. dar intr-un astfel de loc, singura intrebare este: “cum ne-am putea dori mai mult, altceva?” Deschide ochii, si vezi. In our so-called Western world, we live far from the wild. We work hard to maintain the boundaries. Some even believe that we have become a species disconnected from the natural mechanisms of life. But in a place like this, one cannot help but wonder, “how could I possibly want more, something else?” Just open the eye into the world, and see. Sursa

Uneori rabdarea si insistentele sunt rasplatite :) O drama ieftina: 3 zile de rugaminti pentru a ne fi acceptata aplicatia pentru “referral visa” (viza care poate fi emisa numai cu aprobarea ambasadei din tara de origine), 14 zile de telefoane internationale si minciuni, 3 zile de asediu in fata ambasadei din Windhoek, 85 de euro pentru timbrele propriu-zise, 70 de euro pentru niste faxuri care nu au fost niciodata trimise ambasadei din Romania, un ocol de 1000 de kilometri (sa asteptam in capitala ar fi fost peste bugetul nostru). Rezultatul nesperat: cu 7 zile inainte sa ne expire viza namibiana, am primit viza pentru Africa de Sud. Ura, vom merge in Cape Town! Sa speram ca viza, niciodata avizata de ambasada RAS din Romania, e valida. Sometimes cheekiness and resilience pay off … The cheap drama: 3 days of begging to get out referral visa applications in (a referral visa is a visa that must be approved by the embassy in your home country), 14 days of international calls and lies, 3 days of picketing the embassy in Windhoek, 85 euro for the actual stamps, 70 euro for docs that were never faxed to the embassy in Romania (who pocketed this fee?), 1000 km of detour to avoid waiting for a response in expensive Windhoek. The (almost) unexpected result: 7 days to the expiration date of our Namibian visa, we got the permission to enter South Africa. We’re going to the Mother Town! Hopefully this visa, never approved by the embassy in Bucharest, is valid. Sursa

[still] Namibia 14-24/02 Damaraland Pista de pietris serpuia prin una dintre cele mai aride si pustii regiuni rurale din Namibia. Triburile bastinase de pastori Khoisan (Hotentoti) si de vanatori-culegatori San (Bushmen) fusesera alungate de aici de diversii aventurieri si colonisti albi cu mult timp inainte ca macar sa auzim despre acest loc. Fragmente de sate risipite in [cascat prefigurand un adjectiv previzibil] vastul teritoriu. Din cand in cand un barbat Himba insotit de o turma de vite aparea in orizontul incins, un accident in necuprinsul de ocru, alb si albastru. The gravel road unwound through some of the most thinly populated and driest Namibian countryside. Long before we ever learnt about this place and dreamt of riding our bike across, its native nomadic inhabitants, the hunter-gatherer San (Bushmen) and the herders Khoisan (Hottentots) had been almost entirely chased away by white settlers, missionaries and venturers alike. Leftover villages were scattered in the [insert yawn here for the predictable adjective] vast territory. From time to time a Himba man with his cattle would appear in the horizon, a speckle in the infinite stretch of ochre, white and blue. Pe masura ce orele se scurgeau, potecile au incetat sa mai coteasca in vegetatia salbatica, inspre vreun catun pierdut in grohotis: eram in sfarsit singuri, sute de kilometri intre noi si prima asezare locuita. Acesta era tinutul Damara, una dintre cele mai neospitalier de aride regiuni din lume. As time passed by, the occasional paths stopped turning into the bush to indicate a village or the remains of it: we were finally alone, hundreds of miles between us and the next human settlement. This was Damaraland, one of the driest environments on Earth. Un cameleon ne-a taiat calea, asa ca ne-am oprit sa-l observam mai de aproape pentru o clipa (scuze pentru manipularea-surpriza) A chameleon crossed our path, so we stopped to check it out (sorry for the man-handling little fella’). Deasupra intinderii sterpe se desfasura plat un gradient de albastru. Tufe inspinate, manunchiuri de iarba si acacia uscativi impestritau pamantul rosietic ca tuleie de par pe un chip nebarbierit. Am condus prin aceasta cacofonie minerala ore in sir, noi si Tenerele, o creatura straina, singurul obiect in miscare care intrerupea vidul. Nici o coliba tipica din chirpici, nimeni pe drum purtandu-si bagajul pe cap, nici o femeie ghemuita langa pista in asteptarea unei masini de ocazie. Nimeni. Apoi, dintr-o data, bronzul pietrisului s-a estompat intr-un alb stralucitor si pamantul s-a incovoiat de la zero la 1600 de metri: treceam prin Cheile Khowarib. Above the barren veld rose a flat gradient of blue. Thorny shrubs, tufts of grass and acacia trees swarmed the reddish earth like stubs of hair on an unshaven face. We drove across this sameness for hours, like an alien craft interrupting the astonishing vacancy of the veld. No typical African mud-and-dung huts, nobody walking with their stuff on their head, no women crouching alongside the road, waiting for a lift. No-one. Then the gravel lost its tan and shone white in the midday haze. Luring us to push on, the Khowarib Gorge, where the land suddenly swelled from zero to 1600m. In anii ‘20 Namibia a iesit de sub tutela Germaniei si a fost anexata - pana la independenta din 1990 - uniunii sud-africane. Populatia alba a crescut peste noapte, numerosi sud-africani instalandu-se in vastele ferme, circa 6000, concesionate sau alocate de catre guvern in perioada apertheidului. Triburile bastinase - ceea ce mai ramasese din ele in urma genocidului de la inceputul secolului - au fost nevoite sa supravietuiasca in una dintre cele 10 “rezervatii” pentru “nativi”. La nord Kaokoland, actualmente Kunene, unde traiesc Herero si Himba; in sud est la periferia desertului Kalahari etnicii San; in Namib subgrupul Topnaar. Iar pe platoul central, in aridul Damaraland, etnicii Damara, unul dintre cele trei grupuri cu dialecte articulate de clickuri. Damaraland nu este declarat oficial zona protejata, dar aici supravietuiesc cu adevarat in libertate zebre, antilope Springbok, Oryx, Kudu, girafe, suricate, numeroase specii de pasari si reptile. Ba chiar elefanti si lei de desert, spun zvonurile… undeva in teritoriile izolate dinspre ocean. Extenuati de arsita, am schimbat priviri uimite cu animalele care ne taiau calea, si de data asta, spre deosebire de Etosha, aparitiile durau o clipa. Aici un vehicul motorizat nu e o prezenta obisnuita si pe orizontul din spatele zebrelor nu am vazut profilandu-se silueta betoanelor si a gardurilor electrice. In the 20s Germany had to let Namibia go, so the country went to join the Southern-African Union. Until the 1990 independence some 6000 fenced farms were leased or sold by the aperheid government to the new white settlers who flocked in, leaving the “natives” no option but make house in the 10 “reserves”. In the North there was Kaokoland (nowadays Kunene), home to Herero and Himba; the fringes of Kalahari in the South-East became the last frontier of the San; the Topnaars retreated to the Namib. And on the central plateau the Damara, one of the three groups that use a click-accented dialect, established Damaraland. Even today the arid territory is not officially protected, but offers sanctuary to wildlife: zebra, Springbok, Oryx, Kudu, giraffe, suricates, birds and reptiles. Rumor has it that even desert elephants and lions still roam some of the more remote corners of this veld. And this time the animals that wandered about were not unfazed by our sudden and noisy apparition, like the Etosha herds. The encounter would last only for a brief moment, leaving us dumbfounded, wondering if it had been a day-dream or not. Soon the Grootberg pass forced the road towards east. A jacquard of lava lingered under brittle grasses, few meters high cactuses and freakish stumpy trees with water-filled torsos. Curand drumul s-a frant spre est prin pasul Grootberg, unde mileniile sunt lizibile in lava impestritata de tufe fragile, cactusi inalti si copaci ciudati, cu ramuri schiloade si tulpini umflate de apa. Mormane de bolovani enormi zaceau din loc in loc - stranii jucarii uitate de niste uriasi misteriosi. Clusters of enormous rocks were laying around in the fuzzy veld, strange toys forgotten behind by some nowhere-to-be-seen giants. Odata Lego-ul de granit lasat in urma, am ajuns intr-un camping unde calatorii de “teapa” noastra sunt primiti sa campeze pe gratis. In albumul de overlanderi am gasit fete cunoscute: oameni pe care i-am urmarit ani la rand in calatorie, dar si prietenii germani si francezi cu care impartisem o bucata de drum prin cele doua Congo, si care erau deja inaintea noastra. Nu mai facusem un dus de o saptamana, aveam rufe de spalat si planuiam sa profitam de fermele de vanat din zona. Dar acesta avea sa fie ceva mai mult decat un pit-stop rapid pentru cei doi vagabonzi romani pe moto. Pentru inceput am hotarat in gluma sa sarbatorim primul nostru Sf. Valentin cu o cina irezistibila, pretul mai mult decat rezonabil parandu-ni-se si mai “chilipir” din pricina economiei la cazare. Pass the granite Lego, we rolled into the newest Namibian overlanders’ joint (complete with overland album where we could spot familiar faces like Margus & Kariina, Alper & Esther, the Vidals). Our original plan was to take our first shower in a week, do some launder and feast on the famous Namibian farmed game, but this place was to become more than just a pit stop for us, protein hungry, dirty vagabonds. For one, as we arrived on the infamous 14th of February, we celebrated the Valentine’s Day for the first time, the main incentive being the specials on the menu: butternut soup, zebra sirloin with veg and, yes, ice-cream! As camping was free, splurging on the very reasonable dinner set menu was a no-brainer. Cum ne pregateam pentru periplul sud-african, era momentul sa exersam la braai, aruncand pe gratarul traditional carnati boerwors, mushiulet de vanat, vita si savuroasele ciuperci care cres in varful termitierelor. And as South Africa was already on our radar, it was time to start practicing our braai skills, sporting boerwors, farmed game and the famous termite mushrooms we had chased in vain in Etosha a week ago. Campingul era un fel de gradina ciufulita: ciulini, acacia, cactusi, arbusti cu pastai care au inspirat-o pe Ana sa le poarte ca bijuterii ad-hoc. The rest camp was a hippy garden of sorts: prickly bushes, cactuses, pod bearing trees that Ana felt inspired to wear as instant jewelry. O poza ne-editata a locului nostru de camping, in lumina ireala a unui apus obisnuit aici. An unedited photo with our campsite scalded in the surreal sunset. Intalnire de gradul 2 cu Malaria/ Malaria Scare In doua zile eram gata: spalati, tunsi, un picut odihniti. Dus cu apa calda, hartie igienica la baie, electricitate si priza la nas, langa cort - tot acest lux incepuse sa ni se para banal. Uitate incepeau sa fie saptamanile mizere in glodul din Congo, cand ne stergeam cu frunze si ne spalam pe maini o data pe zi cu cateva picaturi de apa si rareori cu sapun. In acele vremuri cel mai sigur mod de a ne face toaleta de dimineata era sa strangem in palme manunchiurile de iarba mustind de roua. Dintre amintirile albe si negre insa, una, poate cea mai urata, avea sa iasa la suprafata in ajunul plecarii, schimband totul. Two days later we were ready: showered, shampooed, hairstyles, well rested. We had started to get used to and take for granted all these first world luxuries - heated water (actually running water), T.P., electricity and easily available plug, right by the tent. Long were forgotten our scruffy days in the Congo, when we would save any drop of water and milligram of soap, washing our hands by squeezing a tuft of grass heavy with morning dew. But one of the bad memories, if not the worst of them all, was to come back and haunt us once more. O senzatie ciudata de “nu stiu ce” mi cuibarise in stomac de dimineata, spre amiaza a debutat o durere surda in oase si incheieturi. Noaptea aveam febra, nu cine stie ce, asa ca ne-am zis sa manam plecarea, sa mai asteptam o zi, sa vedem ce si cum. A doua zi ciclul s-a reluat: mai multa febra, migrene … si toata ziua am zacut in cort lipsit de puteri. Am urmarit paranoici graficul de simptome: Ana retraind momentul Matadi, eu din ce in ce mai convins ca am malarie. Cu doua saptamani mai devreme Esther se internase in Windhoek cu malarie si, pentru ca urmase tratamentul relativ tarziu (circa 3 zile de la instalarea simptomelor), suferise o complicatie: insuficienta renala. Au urmat dialize, anularea calatoriei si repatrierea in Germania. La ora tarzie din noapte nu aveam unde sa fac un test de sange, asa ca ne-am sfatuit si am decis sa incep tratamentul de urgenta cu Lonart, un echivalent al Qartem, pe care il cumparasem preventiv in Zambia. That dreadful morning debuted with a weird feeling in my stomach. By midday my bones and knuckles were aching like hell. At night I was sporting a decent fever, but not too high, so we decided to postpone our departure, to see what was up with that. The next day the cycle restarted: more fever, more head aches… al day I was laying down in my tent, powerless, weaken. The paranoia was on: Ana was reliving the Matadi moment, I was growing more convinced by the hour that I had malaria. On top of all these, we knew that Esther, with whom we had traveled in Congo and who was a bit ahead of us now together with Alper, has been hospitalized in Windhoek with malaria. She had started the treatment with some delay, maybe a couple of days, and she was now suffering from kidney failure, a common but nasty malaria complication. She had been receiving dialysis for about a week and she was about to be repatriated in Germany. Their adventure was over. We decided it was not the moment to take risks, so I started taking Lonart, an equivalent of Qartem, immediately. Bomboane pentru malarie Malaria candy, bought from Zambia. Dimineata urmatoare am rascolit satul in cautarea cuiva care sa descuie portile noii clinici: moderne, curate, dar dotate doar cu teste de unica folosinta pentru malarie, care se dovedisera neconcludente nu doar in cazul Anei. In plus, luasem deja prima doza de medicamente, deci nu ne-am mirat cand testul a iesit negativ. Un test de sange adecvat nu ar fi soft disponibil decat in Windhoek. Asistentul, care cu siguranta nu a intalnit o persoana bolnava de malarie in viata lui, m-a asigurat ca sunt sanatos, m-a taxat cu 10 euro si mi-a inmanat niste pungute simpatice cu indometacin si multivitamine. The next morning we were helped by locals to summon medical assistance at the newly built, but quite desolated village clinic. They had malaria tests alright, the kind that had already been proven unreliable in Ana’s case. I had already taken 2 doses of antimalarial medicine, of course the test came out negative. A proper blood test was available only 500 ams away, in Windhoek. And the nurse, who I can’t imagine had ever treated or even met someone with malaria, assured me I was fine. 10 euros and two cute ziplocks with Indocid and multivitamins later, I was back home. And back on Lonart. Si pain-killers + multivitamine de la “doctor” Pain-killers + multivitamins from the “doctor” Malaria e o sperietoare ciudata in Namibia, ca si in Romania, ca si in Europa. Pentru ca tara e in afara zonei de transmisie, maladia nu e suficient cunoscuta, si ne aflam intr-un sat cu cateva mii de locuitori, la 500km de capitala. Optiunea cea mai de bun simt era sa continui tratamentul anti-malarial, ceea ce am si facut. In Windhoek am ajuns abia cateva zile mai tarziu, tardiv pentru a depista urme de plasmodium in sange… probabil ca nu vom sti niciodata daca a fost sau n-a fost… Ideea e ca dupa 3 zile eram restabilit si dornic sa aud Tenerele torcand. As it is the case in Romania, Europe or the US, in Namibia not a lot is known about malaria. The country is out of the severe transmission map, besides, we were in Kamanjab, a few thousands inhabitants village. My best bet was to follow the correct antimalarial treatment scheme. So I did, taking my time to recover and rest. A few days later in Windhoek it was too late to trace the plasmodium germs in my blood. So this will remain a big question mark. Was is, or wasn’t it? I guess I’ll never know. Three days later I was back on my horse, pushing on westwards. Ne-am luat adio de la Melissa, fiica lui Vital, proprietarul de la Oppi-Koppi Saying good-bye to Melissa, the daughter of Vital, owner of Oppi-Koppi La drum On the road again Pe bordul motorului un kilometraj incredibil si pentru noi The record mileage was hard to believe, even for us Harta Namibiei e plina de marcaje turistice, totul, desigur, pe bani. Nefiind genul care bifeaza “obiectivele” cu Lonely Planet in mana, am zis “pas”, si am luat-o inspre Skeleton Coast pe cea mai off-road varianta posibila. Ideea era sa ajungem in Walvis Bay pana in apus. Soarele scalda totul intr-o lumina ireala, estompand culorile, erodand geometria peisajului, aproape anuland orice constrast. La fiecare oprire nu auzeam decat vocile noastre si galgaitul gurilor de apa pe care le sorbeam cu nesat. Intinderea parea lipsita de viata, stearpa, mirosind a caldura si uscaciune, doar ceasurile de Camembert topit lipsind de pe cadavrele contorsionate de acacia. Cerul era mai inalt si mai pretutindeni ca niciodata, impistruiat cu nori, care nu conteneau sa se risipeasca, doar pentru a se coagula din nou. The Namibian touristic agenda is quite extensive, and of course nothing is free. Lonely Planet has never been our traveling bible, so we skipped the local “must-see”s and took the sketchiest off-road route towards Skeleton Coast. Our plan was to reach Walvis Bay by sunset. The daylight had a surreal quality to it, tempering colors, melting away topographical features that were fighting for contrast under the scorching sun. Every time we would stop for a brief water break we could hear nothing but our own voices: the land appeared lifeless, smelling of heat and drought, only interrupted by twisted corpses of thorn trees without their melted Camembert clocks. The sky was wider and higher than any we had seen before, smeared with theatrical cloudscapes that kept coagulating and dispersing. Necuprins Namibian veld A fost una dintre cele mai faine zile pe drum. Campia namibiana taiata piezis de drumul care pompa adrenalina si manca in gume la fiecare cotitura, in fiecare ac de par. Kilometru dupa kilometru de placere, gaz la fiecare pieptis, apoi o gura de aer in cate un loc de belvedere, apoi o curba in panta in genul celebrului Corkscrew de la Laguna Secca. Imi spuneam ca bucata asta de drum ar fi fost excelenta pentru o etapa speciala de raliu. In cele din urma insa, drumul s-a potolit, netezindu-se, din ce in ce mai plat, din ce in ce mai desertic, pana inspre apele inghetate ale oceanului. Ne aflam in plin sezon ploios, dar ploaia nu mai cazuse de ceva timp in acele locuri. Albie dupa albie de rau uscata pana la nisipul adanc, parca niciodata acoperit de ape. Intr-un moment de inspiratie, am cotit pe o poteca ingusta, si mai bine de 90 de minute ne-am ratacit intr-un labirint de nisip si pustiu. It was one of the greatest rides of them all. The Namibian veld dissected by this adrenalin-pumping clutch-burning tyre-roasting road. We were discovering it kilometer by kilometer of rock crumble, stopping at a vantage point from which we could view it all. Rushing up on a blind hill, bent down into a corkscrew like the famous Laguna Secca turn. This stretch would make a beautiful rally stage, negotiating a water thirsty desert that eventually fades away into the ocean ravaged Skeleton Coast. It was rainy season, but rain rarely falls here. All the river beds were dry, their sandy bottoms ghostly reminders of a once breathing body of water. At some point we took a small road, a thin line on the map, and got lost for some time in a labyrinth of sandy deviations. Albie uscata de rau: enorma, adanca, imposibil de trecut cu pasager. Dry riverbed: wide, deep, sandy, difficult to cross 2up Masivul Brandberge, “Muntele Ars”, cel mai inalt din Namibia, sfida de la 2573m orizontala infinita a campiei. The massive Brandberge, the “burnt mountain”, towered at 2573m over the unmitigated flatness of the veld. Apoi nu a mai ramas decat orizontala: la vest, la est, la nord si la sud, totul la fel de plat, la fel de nealtul. Doar stalpii de electricitate isi continuau drumul. Inspre coasta norii intunecau deja cerul, cu vant rece si miros de furtuna. In stanga drumului, prin ploile indepartate care atarnau din nori ca niste perdele aruncate neglijent pe sarma, se intrezarea varful Spitzkoppe (1584m). Then all that was left was formlessly horizontal. West, east, north and south, ever the same, only the wood poles with their sagging electricity cables still standing. The sky was smudged with cloud, and the wind was bringing in from the frozen coastal waters a salty smell of thunderstorm. Through the distant rains that were hanging down from the clouds like soaking laundry, we could barely see Mt. Spitzkoppe, to the left of the road. La intrarea pe Skeleton Coast nisipul fusese cotropit de licheni infloriti. Straniul camp de plante, adapat la seva sarata condensata din curentul Benguela, este parc national si zona protejata. Then we entered on the Skeleton Coast through a strange field of lichen in bloom (a reserve and national park). Pe coasta vantul rece ne-a manat fara oprire pana la intrarea in Namib-Naukluft. Am trecut rapid pe langa suburbiile bogate ale albilor din Swakopmund, cu casutele lor colorate ca niste piese de Lego. Oraselul este capitala sporturilor extreme (la preturi de asemenea extreme!) pe subcontinent. Nu aveam ce cauta acolo, ne-am vazut de drum. Iar in spatele gardurilor vii frumos tunse de la periferia periferiilor, am zarit bordeiele improvizate din orice ale Topnaar-ilor, unde muntii de gunoaie sunt singura forma de relief. The cold Benguela current was blowing mercilessly, so we rushed by the swish white suburbs of Swakopmund, the capital of all adrenaline-junkies. For wads of cash one can skydive, sandboard or do anything here, so this was not our place, not our budget. On the outskirts of the outskirts of the town we drove by the Topnaar township: shacks of any description in the sandy plain littered with all sorts of debris, a landscape where mountains were man-made out of trash. Nu mai vazusem desertul de mai bine de 8 luni, din Mauritania, iar Alanticul abia cu 2 luni in urma, in Gabon. Dintr-o data desert si mare, unul langa altul, au aparut ca miraje in apus. Dunele aramii, crusta ridata a pamantului, oceanul incruntat in valuri negre. We had last seen the desert 8 months ago, in Mauritania, and the Atlantic more than 2 months ago, in Gabon. We would see them both again, side by side, dunes melted right into the ocean, in the Namib Naukluft. Ochre dunes, a salty crust wrinkled over the land, ocean roaring beyond the horizon. Walvis Bay to Windhoek Doar niste calatori gurmanzi obsedati ca noi sunt in stare sa conduca sute de kilometri prin desert, sa doarma in tufe si sa faca economie la orice, pana si la dus, ca sa isi permita o jumatate de duzina de stridii. Dar stridiile din Walvis Bay, la care visam din 2008, au meritat efortul. Grase, delicate, zeama perfect de sarata. Mmmmmmmmmmmm…… Only a couple of manic gourmet travelers like ourselves could drive for hundreds of miles through the desert, bushcamp in the sketchiest spots and save every penny, in order to afford half a dozen of oysters. But we had been obsessing over the Walvis Bay oysters since 2008, and our efforts and stinginess was rewarded: the mollusks were plump, nutty, with a perfect brine. Mmmmmmmmmmmm…… Cand am pornit inspre capitala, se facuse deja noapte. Dar luasem hotararea sa bagam cox cat urmau sa ne tina puterile, pentru ca dis de dimineata sa parcurgem restul de kilometri pana in Windhoek, unde obiectivul era sa aplicam la viza pentru Africa de Sud. It was already night when we started driving again in the direction of Windhoek. We were determined to push as mush as we could, so that we would have less Ks in the morning till the South African embassy, where we had to apply for our visa. Habar nu aveam ca am campat din nou intr-un loc nemaipomenit. Dar rasaritul a elucidat misterul. We had no idea when we stopped that we were bushcamping again in an exceptional place. Then the sunrise was more than convincing. Capitala ne-a istovit din prima. Pana si gratareala in ghettoul de negri, pe cale de a fi betonata si transformata in mall de carne. The capital city felt exhausting. From the manic streets to the black township where even the public grill was on the way to become some sort of meat mall. Nu venisem insa decat pentru o viza care, credeam noi, urma sa mearga usor. Pentru ca Romania nu este in spatiul Schengen (si nu va fi pentru mult timp), nu ne puteam prezenta pur si simplu la frontiera Africii de Sud. Insa la ambasada am intampinat probleme: atitudine condescendenta, program spartan, taxe exorbitante. Pentru inceput ni s-a refuzat aplicatia. Am inceput sa ne indoim de oportunitatea acestui demers: poate ar fi mai bine sa renuntam, sis a mergem direct in Botswana? A treia zi de insistente dosarul doldora de acte a fost luat in scarba si abia dupa ce am marcat 85 de euro pe vize si 70 de euro pentru faxurile pe care urma sa le dea functionara de la ambasada, ni s-a comunicat ca aveam de asteptat raspunsul minim 10 zile lucratoare. Riscam acum sa ne expire viza de Namibia, poate chiar in timp ce pasapoartele noastre zaceau in sertarul ambasadei Africii de Sud. Dar nu se sinchisea nimeni de cei 28000 de kilometri pe care ii strabatusem in mai bine de 8 luni, de toate garantiile materiale depuse, de rugamintile noastre. Poate ca asa a fost sa fie: sa nu atingem punctul cel mai sudic la continentului, capat terminus si reper esential in itinerariul tuturor celor care calatoresc pe uscat de-a lungul si de-a latul Africii. Poate ca a sosit timpul ca aventura noastra sa ia sfarsit. Trist, dezamagitor, descurajant. But we had driven all this way only to submit our RSA visa application, a simple enough affair, we naively thought. Romania is not part of Schengen (and will not be for a long time), so Romanian citizens must apply and pay for a quite expensive visa. Immediately we understood that was not going to be easy: spartan working hours, aggressive and condescending personnel, high fees. Firstly, our application was denied: they suggested we apply in our country of origin. We considered crossing directly to Botswana and try there, or simply cut South Africa from the itinerary. The third day they agreed to take our files in, but only after we payed 85 euros in visa fees and 70 euros for the faxes that this embassy would presumably send, we were informed that we were now facing a minimum 10 working days waiting time for a response. That meant while our passports could be rotting in some drawer at the RSA embassy, our Namibian visa could expire, placing us in an even more delicate situation. We tried to plead with this people, they just don’t care, though. 99% of all overlanders don’t need a visa for South Africa, they just roll into the southernmost point of the continent. Is this the end of our 28000 km adventure, will we be denied access to a classic overlander’s milestone? Will we have to scramble for a last minute exit out of Namibia? We just don’t know. We are sad, we are hopeless, we are angry. Update: A trecut o saptamana si in ciuda telefoanelor date, aplicatia noastra zace la ambasada, nimeni nu a miscat un deget, gluma se ingroasa. Update: a week has passed since, and nobody could be bothered to process our visa applications. We keep calling the embassy, wasting more money, more time. It feels like we hit a dead end. Sursa