Climbing out of Mozambique

Posted on 29 May 2009

Leaving Tete and the comfortable hospitality of Theo and Mynie was not easy.

Once we had our final cup of coffee and pushed the pedals out of the gates of Mozambique Leaf Tobacco, we both sang out our ritual jingle of “On the road again…”.

We inched our way across the Zambezi River bridge, taking in the magnificence of the volume of water flowing under us. We were on our last stretch through Mozambique, the climb to Dedza.

We made good distance through the heat, stopping more than usual thanks to the extra supply of syrup and peanut butter from Mynie. The little vetkoekies that are sold on the road side have never been sweeter. By lunch time we were soaked in sweat and stayed out the midday sun.

The wind was a relief from the heat but an enemy to our legs, it was blowing directly into our faces. To make matters worse the terrain was against us to. After a long day and 90 kilometers later, we came to the bottom of a mountain pass.

We were adamant to get to the top, our motivation was to find a room with a view.

At the top we approached a village elder and asked permission to camp in the village. We became the circus!

Kids giggled, fathers helped clear a patch of grass of stones and then our camp site was swept clean by the women. We set up camp under the inquisitive eyes of the entire village. Everyone watched us. Once the tents were up and we thanked the chief, the show was over and everything went back to normal.

Marc and I brewed up a coffee and sat over looking the sunset over the Mozambican plains. The shadows of the mountains stretched as the night sailed across the plains below.

The next morning we set off and climbed 1000 meters in altitude in one day. The 80 kilometers to the Limbuni depot of Mozambique Leaf Tobacco was an experience. It had been a while since we had proper hills. Mozambique is generally flat, so our legs had a quick wake up to reality.

We made it to Limbuni without injury and realised just how fit we have become. So without loosing our breath we cracked open a beer with our host Rory Bennett. A good South African braai replenished our lost energy and we woke up the next morning ready for another day in the saddle.

Rory’s wife, Peta,boiled us eggs for the road and warned us of the crazy birdmen. We were slightly confused about that. Not being to superstitious we laughed it off.

We rolled on towards the border.






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