Fat bottomed sheep make the rocking world go round

Now in Djibouti, our last port of call, after a wonderful wonderful month in Ethiopia, a perfect end to an almost perfect year, sadly now drawing to a close.....

After an amusing evening at Moyale fending off the attentions of the particularly persistent border town hustlers ('oh i am the best guide in the whole of Ethiopia, everyone is my friend and if you dont have one you will see nothing and probably be killed...'), and dining on 'cultural food' - fasting firfir and injera (a very sour pancake that doubles as your plate as well as your meal)- we headed west past huge 3m ant hills on a good dirt road to the village of Konso in the tribal regions. On the way gave a local tribes women a lift out of kindness and perhaps hoping she would let us take her photo at the end, she a little weary but eventually she hopped in with her rather large container filled with what seemed like water, so off we bumped along the dusty dirt road and as we got to her hut out she jumped and as she did her container exploded and foamed its contents all over the cruiser, she blaming us no photo and no beer! The following day we visited the surrounding villages and took most peoples advice by taking a guide; the villages nice but feeling a bit fake - every corner you turned a half naked villager picked up pipe, spun wool, pushed child to breast - poses to get the 1 birr going rate for photos - and with our guide feeling Cadie up remorslessly, and the kids screaming for pens and jumping all over the car (finally shook off after a few sharp braking manouvers smashed their dear sweet faces into the back window), we decided against going further west into the omo valley proper and what seemed a bit of a tourist trap, so headed north to the Rift valley lakes around Arba Minch instead, past kids doing a kind of umpa lumpa dance on sight of the cruiser in the hope that we would freely dispense pens, water bottles, money for the priveledge, we didnt. Arba Minch a nice friendly town, camped in a hotels grounds and were savaged by mosqitoes as an extra, next day deciding the cruiser and us needed to get back to really bad road / offroad adventure, so headed into the v scenic and v cheap Nechisar national park, bush camping overnight in the park and springing our first African puncture, a big side wall split done on a very steep and very rocky track; spent a lovely morning in the park bathing in some hot water springs & watching the zebras and birdlife around us, next day took a boat out onto Lake Chamo to see about 30 fat crocs, hippos and lots of very brave pelicans, before heading onto Awasa en route to the Bali mountains where we spent Easter. What majesty! Our camp for 2 nights surrounded by very sweet and friendly warthogs and the occasional Nyala, went trekking for a day - in training for the Simien mountians - near the park headquarters before taking what sounded like (and was) one of the best road trips in the country, the highest all weather (though still dirt) road in Africa across the Sanetti plateau, bush camping in the mist at the top and sighting the rare Ethiopian wolf, before decending next day to one of the most special places we have ever been - the Harenna forest, a strip of spell binding cloud forest with rock outcrops in the heart of Oromo country...we bush camped in the forest at a stunning spot by a stream looking up at the Harrena escarpment, the friendly locals paying the occasional visit & all sporting the latest in local mens fashion, an AK47 slung casually across the shoulder or draped cooly over the back.... after a few nervy walks alone in the supposedly lion & leopard infested forest (we only saw colobus monkeys, but some big paw prints got us thinking) we headed in cruiser on a long loop south through more incredible scenery, across rickety bridges and past charming and unspoilt villages before popping out near Negele Borana on the road to Mogadishu....from there (wisely perhaps) headed back west instead of east, spending a night back in Awasa and a brief stop to visit Jamaicas repatriated Rastas in their 'promised land', Shashemene, then headed up to Addis to get our flights out of Djib and Djib visas, Cadie getting food poisoning (again) after a night out on the sauce in what is a suprisingly pleasant and sophisticated town with some of the best food (though Cadie wouldnt agree) on the continent. Finished up our business in Addis and headed north into the Ethiopian highlands proper on a perfect tarmac road through what seemed like one of the poorest areas we have been on the whole trip, the local women of the region bent over like question marks hauling firewood or huge water containers, the men upright and resplendent on colourfully decorated horses - more stunning scenery as we dropped a 1000m into the blue nile gorge, before climbing back up to the plateau again, spending the night at a road side hotel before making it to Gonder next day and the chance to explore some lovely castles- another oddity for Africa - before we bobbed off to the Simein mountains the next morning, picking up our compulsory scout (with ubiquitous AK47) for only 3 bucks a day on the way up; camping with cruiser and scout way up high on the escarpment. Up for the sunrise next morning, we trekked through hundreds of gelada baboons all very upclose and personal (a whole lot of shagging / screaming / fighting going on), we even witnessed the famous tree shaking ritual of manlyhood, all as close as the guerillas were, i.e. right next to us, just as beautiful but a fair bit louder (much more of them), and all for free.....and all on a cliff top backlit with one of the most stunning views there can be anywhere in the world, the Abbyssinyian Abyss . Next day walked a good distance - we are quite fit these days - along the escarpment to another stunning camp spot near the enchanting village of Geech, grateful for the enterprising local selling beer (at twice the market price, but we werent complaining). Sans cruiser that evening we slept in a tent hired from the tourism office which sadly was infested with fleas that loved the taste of Tom, probably thanks to muffin our mule who carried it up.... Up again with the lark next day we walked to the famous viewpoint of imitgogo then all the way to our first camp. Next morning back in cruiser we dropped down off the escarpment - shedding layers of thermals - and north into the abyss then out again up to the town of Askum, arriving eventually after spending an hour in a town 60km to the west wondering why none of the town layout matched our guide books map and none of the locals had heard of the hotel we were looking for - wrong town stupid! Askum famous as the center of an ancient animist religion, as well as the supposed home of the Ark of the Convenant (except you cant see that of course, being as it dont really exist). You can however see the Stone Henge of Africa, lots of obelisks dating from 300 AD or so, and as we enjoyed the feel of the town so much we decided to stop for an extra day and take in a few more sights. Spent the day walking in the hills and seeing a few famous tombs and quaint villages, being treated to a prayer from an ancient text by a monk at an old monastery with stunning views of (again) the breathtaking surrounds....next day took a road so dusty it needed 4 wheel drive to pull through, with white eye lashes, white hair and skin that looked like it was covered in way too much foundation headed for the vertiginous rock hewn churches of Tigray, all of which are perched on the top of flat topped mountains, and most requiring rock climbs to get to them... we found one that would be hard(ish) to get to, and guided by a young priest took on the first pitch, a steep ascent up a couloir (well couldve been a couloir, sounds good anyway)...the couloir doing for Cadie who parked herself in the animal quarters (a cave) half way up, Tom & priest continuing up the cliff face in bare feet (better grip) & not looking down, at the top meeting the main priest who gave a tour of the first church, carved wholly into the cliff face - dating from the 7th Century and decorated with some pretty frescoes - but the real fun was to be had at the second church round the corner, getting to it achieved by edging along a narrow ledge over a 200m precipice - the church itself just a couple of small rooms hewn out the cliff, the view to the plain below terrifying but exhilarating, shimmied back down picking up Cadie on the way before speeding off to Mekele for more cultural food, which is spicy and quite good, though we did decline the offer of raw meat (thick steaks) with big chunks of fat attached...

Before the big push east to Djib and home we had enough time to stop in famous Lalibela, taking the longer dirt road to get there over endless mountain passes, past the sweetest baby donkeys you've ever seen and yet more incredible scenery, the road taking longer than anticipiated we bush camped in someones field, naturally being discovered though as ever not a problem.....Up (again) at the crack off dawn sped to Ethiopias most famous attraction, 11 churches carved completely out of the rock & thus free standing, manyl linked by a series of pitch dark underground tunnels...in each church a priest giving a prayer from some dusty old book, letting you take his photo etc for a 1 birr fee, and the fleas giving you a good going over for free..!!

Next day started the push east and home, but two puncutres slowed our progress up onto the escarpment; so more time to take in the pretty villages and fend off the persistent beggars, what a show we provided to everyone when changing the wheel - Ethiopians being the indians of Africa, the kids scream and we mean scream for pens, money, books etc, or just plain old 'Faranje', even when 200ft away up or down a cliff, but despite this phenomena being particularly intense around Lal it never really bothered us, the high instance of blindness and begging amongst the population evidence of how very poor they are, and maybe begging is part of the culture - all the religous sites attract v poor pilgrims and lifes unfortunates - freak deformities every bit as bad (some worse) than you see in India, and we do feel that other travellers exaggerate the hassle that you get - we found most of it amusing (like it is in India), easy to fend off and all in all most Ethiopians (with the possible exception of those in Konso) to be very nice people indeed, and with the country itself being arguably Africas most beautiful - really unique and jaw dropping scenery throughout - vibrant tribal cultures, most of the villages still made up of picture perfect traditional houses & locals attired in traditional dress, a religion still very much lived by the people (another similarity with India) with ancient churches in the most incredible places, add the good and unique food and best damn coffee in the world....all adds up to one of Africas - the worlds - very best spots which we rate as one of our very fav countries, in the top 5, and all in all a great way to end what has been a really great year....

Well almost end, we still needed to limp into Djib through very very hot Afar country, which took a couple of days, pumping up a tyre every couple of hours that had a slow puncture......Djib itself a quirky little place, Horn of Africa meets Arabia meets the South of France, lots of French militaire here looking v gay in short tight shorts, and US military looking v dumb with those stupid hair cuts they go for, and all the locals as high as it is possible to get on Khat, the local narcotic which they chew and chew and chew.....still in between the chewing the port managed to have the car sealed into its container within 2 days of our arrival and one day before the carnet expired (a result of us using the time in Mombasa to prearrange things, meaning we could get here as late as possible), and we are were now waiting to hop on our plane home, back to the sterile grey north......no more horizons, no more colourful people, no more smelly animals / smelly people / smelly us!, no more dirt (except in Dalston perhaps).......ho hum......the places we have missed this time, Yemen, Sudan and everywhere else, will just have to wait for next time.......

Photos are of Gelada baboons, Simien mountains, Cadie in local pose, us at the Harenna forest, hippo on Lake Chamo and Konso village kids.

Def NOT a content to far

After clearing the cruiser quickly from the never ending shipping nightmare, we headed off west to Tanzania, bush camping near the border on the edge of the Tsavo national park, grinning all the way!! We were in Tanzania to transit west to Lake Victoria and then to Rwanda, the plan being to head north through there and Uganda then back into Kenya for the run up to Ethiopia, were we are now. Tanzania was good fun, first taking the roughish road through the Serengeti (at vast cost) seeing tons of game, including large herds of wildebeest, groups of hippos, lions, elehpants, crocodiles, zebras, and all the other usual animals, the most impresive of all being the huge number of giraffes, looking like a brontosaurus on the grassy plains. Our trip through over 24 hours (after a few more in the Nogoronogo area) we had all the fun of the self drive Safari, nearly but never quite getting stuck on the muddy tracks, getting lost and seeing some great wildlife and scenery. Camped in the park on the way through to the very beautiful western corridor, Cadie putting the cruiser breifly into a ditch after a patch of rough corrugations...the Serengeti plains the best sweeping views we have had since the Pamirs, though swarms of Tsete fly did mean some photo oppotrunties had to be spurned. Atmos once we got out of the park on its western edge on the shores of Lake Vitoria v different from the very touristy Swahili culture further east, after a night camping at a community centre for the local tribe we crossed the Mwanza gulf by ferry and encountered our first really bad African road, doubly bad given the large amounts of recent rain: soft earth with lots of pot holes and occasional big mudhole, the cruiser making distressing noises - the sound of metal cracking - when going into and out of each hole. After 40km's (and 4 hours) the road imporved, still corrugated but less holes, so we speed on west through a beautiful and relatively remote area, overnighting in a diamond mining town en route. We asked to camp but the owner thought we were mad to want to sleep in our tent when they had a perfectly good room with a shower..after a bit of negotiation the price was reduced and we slipped into our room with DSTV to watch the first game of the Cricket World Cup. A fantastic days drive on mud roads to Rwanda the next day, which could just as easily be called land of a 100,000 fields (every patch of land) than the land of a thousand hills. After a couple of days in Kigali getting gorilla permits and getting one of the car noises sorted (the bracket of a steering arm hitting the sterring damper) we headed south on the good but very crowded (with people) roads, stopping for a grim and very moving look at the genocide memorial in Gikongoro, a site were 20,000 people were massacered, the bodies now exumed from a mass grave and kept in the class rooms were the people were killed, the horrific wounds made by the machetes still clearly visible on the lime treated bodies. We had headed south to check out a patch of montane forest supposedly good for walking, a national park, though after a night camping at the park (at VAST cost) were told unescorted walks were not allowed, perhaps due to the heavy military presence there at the time, but at $30 a pop just for a walk sacked that off and headed off next day to the shores of pretty Lake Kivu, taking perhaps Rwanda's worst major road up the lakeside through some long mud holes, the cruiser, unlike some of the other local traffic, pulling through ok in the low box. 2 days to get up the length of the lake, stopped in Gisenyi for a day by the lake before heading up to Ruhengeri to see the much touted Gorillas. We trekked to see the Susa group as they are (of the open groups) the furtherst to trek to and, at $375 each, we wanted it to last longer than the one hour you are allowed with the gora's themselves. After a good 2 hour trek up through the pretty bambo forest we had a great one hour view of them, with the sun out, 2 silverbacks eating and lots of youths playing in front of us - definintely the best wildlife experience of the trip, but only marginally better than the tigers in India, and over 10 times more expensive! A great morning, but not an experience of a lifetime as some would have you believe (i.e. those that need to get a life), after the long trek down made it through to Uganda and our first enocuter with an overland truck...Rwanda itself an interesting place with freindly locals, but from our point of view too crowded for any real adventure (nowhere to bushcamp and lovely tarmac roads) , like much of the African lakes region, though at least not apparantly full of overland trucks that Uganda sadly is and which, from an independent tourists point of view, are the scourge of much of the country. . Filled as they are with the more obnoxious members of the antiopodean races, huddled together in a big loud group - to protect them from the savage Africans - we had the displeasure of encountering a few examples on our first few nights in Uganda, where we decided to stop for a rest after 2 weeks solid travel at the picturesque but touristy Lake Bunyoni in Southern Uganda... our stay there as uneventual as it was uninteresing, moved up to Kampala to get our Ethiopian visas. We had hooked up with a few other muzungus (white people, this is constantly shouted at you and is rather amusing when you shout back at them RWANDAN) at this stage and had a night in Kampala at a music festival...very entertaining. On the whole, East Africa was we felt a tad too touristique for our tastes, full as it is with often muzungu run campsites that lure you with good facililties but ultimately leave you feeling unfulifilled, too many overland trucks and not enough wild scenery, so we were pleased to head back into Kenya and then, after another Kenlowe fan pack up at the border (fuse gone), up to the north and wilder sounding Ethiopia. As it had been very wet our last few weeks in east africa decided to take the quicker though still very bad road to Ethiopia via Marsabit and Moyale, through the stunningly beautiful Northern Kenyan scenery. From Isiolo to Marsabit through Samburu country the road proabably the worst long strech of corrugations encountered on the trip, back slipping out a little but cruiser otherwise doing ok, camped in the yard of a dirty hotel in Masabit before heading north to Moyale across the edge of the Chabli desert next morning. That road characterised by lots of large rocks which made driving tiring but the going still relativly good at 40-50kph an hour, took the locals advice and declined the offer of an armed guard, the need to do so now being questionable in view of improved security on the road - the only ones who seem to take a guard now (supposedly to ward off bandits) being those gullible tourists who believe the police and pay the money for the guards - a nice little earner for the ploice, but not necessary in our view, arrived in Moyale and Ethiopia in good spirits in time for April fools day....

A continent too far???

We are still alive, and finally, FINALLY, with car.

On the 10th December we flew to NZ, after a quick stop in Bangkok to pick up some cheap t-shirts and fake converse, to celebrate Christmas with my family. After driving for the past eight months through too many countries to count on both hands it was an absolute joy to fly and eat that tasty plane food. My brother and his girlfriend Julie also flew in same day which was great for my Dad and Ngaire, although i think also a shock to the system re: noise levels. In Auckland for a week we slept and ate as many of the foods on our desert island wish lists we could find. Then we flew down to Christchurch and drove up to Kaikoura to see my Mum. She decided that as we had been without a diet of red meat for a while we should eat tonnes of it - much to the SHOCK of our poor systems but to the delight of our taste buds. Kaikoura was very relaxing, catching up with various family members and walks in the hills. Back up to Auckland to celebrate Christmas, Tom & Ngaire cooked an excellent Christmas lunch with all the trimmings, and Tom cooked the Turkey to perfection with two delicious stuffings! Boxing day we drove up to the Bay of Islands / Cape Reinga for a bit more R & R.

Back down to Auckland we were planning on spending New Years Eve at my Dads bach in Port Waikato (which he and Ngaire have just brought)...however he had the Sky installed, the internet connected.....but didn't have the power switched on...so back up to Auckland to celebrate New Years playing scrabble and drinking a few too many glasses of bubbles, and enjoying some brotherly / sisterly love...

It was a really special time in New Zealand, my dad and Ngaire having the whole family together for the first time in 7 years, but phew i bet they were pleased to have the house back to themselves after we left, as i think the constant "Dad where is" and 'Dad do you have' was driving them both crazy.

We flew back via Bangkok again (small accident with my passport, i had a rasberry drink in my bag which exploded all over my passport, its now a nice pink colour), but this time spent two nights there, the first being in a bed bug infested dive near the Koh San road, Tom didn't sleep at all and lay awake until 7am when he promptly moved us on to a cheaper and cleaner option over the canal.

Back in Bombay the shipping nightmare began. We were told it would take three days to organise, so went ahead and booked tickets to Dubai for that weekend......as originally we were going to drive through Oman...only it turns out they are the only country IN THE WORLD that hasn't signed a convention that allows you to drive a RHD drive vehcile in a RHD drive country (or so the British Embassy and Omani police say, though the only way to be sure is to rock up at the border and try) ...pain. So we decided to ship to Kenya, after being told again and again that it (not Tanzania) was the first country to get it in Africa, and it would only take three weeks to get there..

Meanwhile three days to sort the shipping turned into 5. Sitting at the port, which is surrounded by a slum from 11am waiting to load our car into the container, we were still there at 6pm and no container in sight. I completely lost it at dear Mr Parab (the thieving A...), our lying shipping agent, so he kindly requested that Tom did not bring his wife along on Monday. Luckily we were flying Emarites to Dubai and onto Kenya and we were able to change our flights at the last minute...but as this was the only flight available until the end of the month we had a few more days to spare in India after that car finally made it into the container.

So we bobbed down to Goa for a few days on the beach..thinking this would be the last time for a long time....It was lovely and relaxing.

Slept a night in Dubai airport, then on to Nairobi - yippee. On arriving we saw three giraffes, spirits were high, our car was due on the 15th Feb. We decided to spend this time on the beach in Lamu, small island off Northern Kenya. Lamu was paradise, a large mangrove island with a large Muslim community & old town, but with a v relaxed - not like Kunduz - atmos, and all the locals very friendly. We did a few boat trips, snorkling, fishing and swimming, the highlight being a three day trip to the island of Kiwayu up near the Somali border, with a Canadian girl, Mich, and a crew of three chilled out dudes. We slept in a tree house, the whole island with no electricity or running water so a real desert island experience, and well worth the journey for the amazing snorkling & sailing - the highlight of our cruiserless travels /travails.

The 15th turned to the 18th for the arrival of the cruiser and we headed back to Mombasa in anticipation of being reunited with the old girl..., but then the 18th became the 23rd, due to delays at Dar Es Salaam, as it turns out the first port of call for all India / East Africa bound ships... so we headed down to Tiwi, a really quiet & beautiful beach with ace wildlife, tooo much as it turned out: huge cockroaches crawling out of the shower plug hole all over my feet (yep i screamed) not much of an added bonus. I complained, only to be told 'you Europeans come here and expect too much', i replied 'don't charge European prices and i won't expect European standards'..so we moved to a nicer place down the road minus the house guests.

Then the 23rd became the 1st and as TIA ('this is Africa') it finally rocked up on the 3rd, a Saturday...

And now our ship has finally come in..... After 6 weeks care of the shipping liner Global Container Lines (it would probably not pay to repeat what we have nicknamed them..) on the good ship Global (lack of) Progress. Now that we have it, were off for some major cruisering. The plan, drive clockwise round Lake Victoria via the Serengeti, up to Burundi (maybe) and Rwanda (and the gorillas), then Uganda, back thru Northern Kenya to Ethiopia, quick spin round the Siemien mountains, not through the Danakil Depression / Afar desert, but desert yes on up to Djibouti, where we will ship home early May, having sorted out a v cheap shipping deal thanks to the very kind efforts of Mark Allen - thanks Mark! It is probably fair to say that the last two weeks have been a major pain in the backside, and had we known it would have taken as long as it has to get here we would not have gone for it, but chanced our arm at the Omani border or stayed in India (though our time there was limited to mid March as 6 months is the max for a vehicle there). The question as to whether Africa is 'a continent too far', we will be able to answer in two months....

Tiger tiger burning bright...

In Mumbai we got our car parts, got the car serviced and Tom got a nasty fever, before heading back into the countryside again, camping in the cool and quite spectacular Northern Western ghats on our way out to the stunning buddist caves at Ajanta, 20 or so caves with elaborate carvings cut into a beautiful horse shoe shaped gorge. We also took a lovely long walk above the caves taking in a stunning waterfall through cascading pools, getting an amazing view of the gorge the buddists had chosen to live out their days many years ago. After Ajanta we continued east to Nagpur on the main Kalcutta / Mumbai trunk road, that road summing up all that is worst about Indian roads - the multitudinous hourdes springing multitudinous trucks, multitudnous motorbikes, bikes, carts, cars - did we mention trucks? - and multitudinous (mostly dead) dogs - the road kill in this country is like a horror movie, from half a monkey sticking out of the road being mourned by its confused friends on the roadside, every imaginable part of a dogs anatomy every other mile, occassional dead cow, too many wreckages of smashed trucks, staining the road with blood from the night before, etc etc - still we weaved our way through eventually.....keeping road rage to a minimum and disobeying every road rule to the maximum, like any self respecting Indian driver should. We were in Nagpur, the exact centre of India, to visit Duncan and Alan, victims of the unjudicial Indian legal system, and inmates at Nagpur central jail - we got to see them for 15 minutes speaking through a grill with many others in the room, but they were pleased to see us and we hope the things we got them will help relieve the boredom, and that they are not there too much longer. We then headed to Pench tiger reserve in central Madya Pradesh just to the North of Nagpur, the area where Kipling is supposed to have set the Jungle book, and being covered in a kind of tropical forest that is not quite rain forest, but very pretty. We had a good game drive in the very cold morning air trying and failing to spot the elusive tigers, but seeing jackals, various types of deer, bush pigs etc. We did get to see the tigers eventually though, after paying a little extra to ride an elephant through the jungle to a spot where 5 tigers, including a larger male, were resting. Elephants must be the king of the jungle as they took us right to within a few feet of the very beautiful tigers, our elephant, the littlest but seemingly bravest of the three that were with us, even walking through the bush where the tigers were resting, driving them out into the open so we could get a better look!

Madya Pradesh much less busy than any of the other states we have visited, and as the road quality declined to earth and the trucks were replaced with very sweet bullock carts with little toggle decorations and bells, we found ourselves in the heart of rural India that we’d hoped to find, a truly magical area of forest, hills and cliffs, charming villages and very colourful and friendly locals. We spent a couple of days walking in the hills around the old British hill station of Pachmari before taking a very rough road west, which soon turned to farm track then to single path – at one point we were driving across fields – but taking us deeper into the countryside; through jungle partly but also through lots of picture perfect and pristine little villages (you can imagine the stares we got - god damn crazy westerners), the scenery often looking like a Constable painting, particularly in the soft autumnal light, and the area and its people seemingly untouched by the last few hundred years – the way of life of the subsistence farmers how most Indians still live. For four wonderful days of weaving around the area but keeping a rough westerly heading, camping in the woods amongst giant spiders webs and listening to the sounds of the ubiqitous beating drum, we popped out onto a road with a semblance of tarmac, and, at the tiny village of Chiriptola, right into a band and conga line of people celebrating something or other, which took a half hour to flow around us before we could move on. Our westerly progress through the woods speeded up on the better road, and we got to the holy town of Om Kareshwar on the holy Narmada river. Only a breif two day stay at the truly fascinating little town that is Om, as, planning to come back, we moved onto Maheshwar further down stream as Tom decided he'd like to find a telly to watch the start of the Ashes...Maheshwar another very tranquil, friendly and colourful little town with beatiful temples on the river, we moved on again after a few days, as far away from a TV as we could get..., ending up in Mandu, a small village on a plateau surrounded by hundreds of elaborate overgrown Afghan ruins in the fields, and stunning views of the surrounding ravines. Mandu, Maheswar and Om all being relatively close, we returned to Om after 5 or so days of pottering and cycling around the ruins in Mandu. With a perfect view from our room over the river to the island with its many temples that forms part of Om, we spent a week rambling around and gawping at the visual feast that charaterises the place, full of lots of temples, old and new, every type of holy man performing their various forms of Puja, well dressed goats, nicely face painted cows, hundreds and hundreds of monkeys (of two types), very freindly Sadhu's and other characters - our favourite was a tall elderly fella who seemed to spend his entire life walking in a triangle on a large step near our hotel, occassinally helping himself to a ball of Shiva bhang...he seemed a happy soul, as were we! With a lovely spot for swimming in the clean river, and great veggie food - the first real travellers fare we have had since Diu - Om had it all, but just to be sure that we capped off all the Indian experiences, Cadie got dysentry...

A speedy recovery saw us back in Mumbai a few days later, where we have left the car in a lock up until we return from NZ in Jan. With a few days spare we got the night bus down to Palolem in Goa where we are now, enjoying beach luxury before the long trip to NZ. On our return the plan is, at the moment, to ship the car straight to Dubai, before heading across the Arabian Peninsula, then across the red sea to North East Africa, then north home. So thats us done in India really. By only really concentrating on two or three of the central states, with a few exceptions we seem to have (without really meaning to), almost completely avoided the tourist scene, and had a really really wonderful time. So intensely colourful, so intensely noisy, and so fundementally different from anywhere else, coming to India, the outermost point of our trip (after Xmas we are on the return leg) has been as rich an experience as we could have hoped for.

Photos are of tigers at Pench, piper in Chiriptola, Madya Pradesh bush route, monkey with Puja flowers & well dressed Goat, Om K.

Beach, mud, snot & noise!!

Been a while since we last updated this thing (in Jodhpur), too long. Still the fun hasnt stopped even though weve slowed down. A few days of travel south through pretty Rajhastan got us our long awaited appointment with the beach in Diu, Gujarat, where we stayed almost two weeks (some kind of record for us) soaking up the sun, eating delicous seafood and Gujaratí Thali's and enjoying general beach action, but with a really quaint old portugese town and some nice villages to explore as well. Only a few tourists in town zipping around on mopeds, more than we have been used to on this trip but a nice number, including a charismatic couple of roadies from Northants , Keith - 'we've done some shit aint we Joe'- (&Joe), who we spent alot of our time with. First we were staying in the old church now converted into a backpackers, but after some youngster was violently ill in the shared bathroom and didn't clean it up we packed our bags AGAIN and moved to the Super Silver which was luxury, own bathroom, clean sheets and a tv for Tom to get his cricket fix....oh and the howling dogs each morning singing along with the mosque was a good wake up call. Our birthdyas were celebrated in style gorging on seafood, Keith pointing out that Tom had crab in his eyelashes - a snack for later? - Cadie stumbling home after a few too many G & T’s with a few rest stops to admire the view of the asphalt. Time slipped by here and we realised we hadn't done any sightseeing so zoomed around in the cruiser taking shots before settling back into beach life, get up eat, beach, eat, then drink o'clock and bitings at the Alishan (which put the cricket on for Tom)- bliss. Diu was my first (Cadie) real introduction to the Inidan version of public toilets.....ANYWHERE...one kid going about his business on the the street wished to stike up a conversation at the point of ablution with "hello"....hmmm not very nice. After leaving Diu and its readily avaialble supply of cheap booze, got some exercise....kinda... joining the pilgrims on the 10,000 step climb up to some beautiful Jain and hindu temples perched at the top of a hill above the plains at Junanagh... then with shaking legs marched back down again. After that brief interlude we headed back to the beach, but this time in the wholly different setting of Dwarka, a very holy little town right on the western tip of the peninsula, and very pretty too with the sky line dominated by a tall ancient temple and its huge ever changing flags, Ghats and Sadhu huts strung along the banks of an aquamarine tidal river where it meets the sea, and long beach stretching out on the other side. We got a spot to stay right at the mouth of the river and right in the middle of the action, and settled into several days of watching the Sadhu's and pilgrims performing their Puja and living out there simple, colourful and entirely spiritural lives. Tom starting to look like sideshow Bob got a haircut and shave from a guy in a hut for 20 rupees, now resembling a man straight out of the military...Cadie had to giggle. However the town became rammed with Pilgrims as Diwali, India's Xmas, meant all those who can afford a holiday in India were on holiday, meaning Dwarka started to resemble, in a weird kind of way, an English seaside town on a bank holiday, camel rides on the beach etc...... time for us to leave. After a couple of days battling through flood damaged roads (and managing to get rid of a stow away rat we picked up in Dwarka), but stopping in a marine park for one more dip in the sea, we made it out to the 'island' of Kutch, the western most bit of India 'seperated' from the mainland (and Pakistan) by the Great Rann, a huge salt / mud flat. After a few days in the very friendly and pleasant town of Bhuj, visiting some of the tribal villages famous for their handicrafts in the North, we headed out to the Great Rann itself, though shelved plans for driving on it after we realsied it was more mud than salt flats after Tom sank up to his ankles in the mud whilst testing the ground. Gujarat a dry state - however you can get a alcohol permit stamped in your passport (Cadie's as apparently Tom only has a few pages left, ha he just does not want to look like the old soak) in certain towns, Bhuj being one of them, so we stocked up on medicinals as essential camping equpiment. The Kutch much less populated than the rest of the state, and looking like parts of Africa with its acacia bush and red laterite soil, we enjoyed a few nights camping out on the western edge of the Kutch, staring out at the Rann, my (Tom's) progress at walking out on it stopped this time by a large Hyena that crossed my path about 30m ahead, thankfully seemingly uninterested in me. The cackle of the hyena's lulling us to sleep that night, next night we had the beat of a drum (Indian's loooove to drum), as we camped miles into the bush, the beat coming closer and closer then further and further away then closer again for hours, the constant noise of this the noisest country on earth unescapale even when you think youre in the middle of nowhere. We spent 8 days in all on the Kutch (the most pictureque part of the state with very freindly and colourful tribal people), including one more visit to the beach at Mandvi (Cadie getting a face full of holy snot from a passing sneezing cow), before heading to Mumbai to get car parts via Ahmedabad (a city where it seemed to rain bird shit) and an incredible vegetarian feast.....

Photos are of cave detail, Ajanta (see post above), view from temples, Junagarh, slipslide on the Rann, Ghats at Dwarka...& sideshow Bob

Your bottom, my head...

After a very enjoyable evening at Iqbal's meeting all his kids, brothers, brothers kids, cousins, but only breifly the wife, we headed down to the Kalash valleys to check out a festival that was on, 'The returning of the shepherds'.First day there (and from then on) we got eaten alive by fleas that had infested everyone and everything in the valley, but managed to have a great time at the festival, which consisted of the colourfully dressed women dancing in one circle, drunken young lads in another, and old men standing in the middle telling stories. Every now and then one of the young lads, very very pissed on the local firewater, Tara, would knock one of the old men over and need to be pinned down by several of his mates. It didnt take long for us to locate our own firewater, but we didnt take part in the celebrations which went right through the night. Instead we hung out with an English guy, Jon, who had driven his Honda Civic from England, drinking his vodka (then his tara) and telling tales of the road. Returned to Chitral (finding some 'Osama Bin Laden' biscuits in a shop, complete with picture of the great man, but sadly not with attendant health warning 'poisonous to infidels') for a few more repairs before heading up to the Shandur pass..spending a v enjoyable evening in the chilled village of Mastuj, Cadie having to enjoy some banter with a very funny fella from Abottabad whose favourite phrase (to Cadie), in a thick Pakistani accent, was "Your bottom, my head".... Ran into Iqbal at the checkpoint, who had been there for two days trying to negotiatiote with, and at one point fighting with, the police over the amount of baksheesh he would have to pay to get his dodgy cars, 'custom plate' imports from Afghan with no duty paid on them, back down to Chitral.

There is a better road now up the Shandur pass than before, that evening we tried to camp in Teru but were moved on by an over officous copper, okay, so we headed to the nearest PTDC and camped there and got sick from their chicken jalfrazei as an added bonus. After a few days in Gilgit being inspired to go trekking by some mountaineers staying at our hotel, headed up to Chapusan, a valley in the Wahki region (which runs parallel to the Wakhan valley and therefore very near the area we were in a month before) to do just that. Trekked for a day up the stunning but cloudy valley, spending the night at the hut of Alum Jan's father in Baba Gundi where there is an important Wakhi / Ismaili shrine. Alum Jan a very nice laid back chap, whose house we stayed in the night before in the lower village, also joined us together with a Canadian guy. As luck would have it, a French trekking party (of two) very well equipped with a guide and cook and three porters, ending up sharing our hut and we got the benefits of first rate trekking support, a four course meal of various different dishes and even creme caramel for pudding - the best meal we had in Pakistan found in the most unlikely of places - we had planned potatoes, the local crop, and rice...

We were fairly knackered and stiff after the next day's walk down, but returned to Passu and after a two days rest decided to do the 5 day trek up the Batura Glacier, one of the longest in the region. We awoke on the first morning of the trek feeling like condemend prisoners, particularly as I (Tom) had a dodgy ankle and the soles of Cadie's boots were now held together with tyre sealant and looking like that wouldnt last five minutes, but the first day was an easy 2 and a half hour walk up to a shepherd huts at the edge of the glacier. Couldnt get the tent (a cheap second hand one bought in Gilgit) to stay up in the katabatik winds (a word borrowed from a trekking guide) coming from the slopes above, and so kipped in the hut with our top porter, Mr Haida, and the rats...Next day crossed the Glacier, a mass of huge mounds of bolders, ice and the odd crevasse, the soles of Cadie's boots coming off just as we reached reached the very steep section on the other side. It just so happened that another group were heading back and had a spare pair of boots, size 8 mens, so Tom tried to convince me (Cadie) that they would fit and be more comfortable, I declined... A few choice words and a load of gaffer tape later we pressed on for 3 more hours to our campsite in the summer pasture village of Yashpirt, which is by some distance the most beatiful village either of us had ever seen. Perched on a grassy mound above the Glacier, and looking over to the Batura Wall, ice fall and a ring of fourteen 7500m peaks, Yashpirt is only occupied for 2 months a year, and so was not occupied when we were there, except for a large population of very friendly Yaks and the sounds of the groaning glacier, which sounds like thunder. Luckily for us Mr Hada owned one of the huts, all made out of the logs of the ancient slow growth Juniper trees that grew on the valley sides, so after managing to get the tent up we cooked in his hut, joined breifly by Mr Hada's Yak, looking for salt. Perhaps as a result of the Wakhi's kindness to all their Animals, we found the Yak's to be great company (so long as not stepping on our tent), along with the view, the white surrounds all lit up by the full moon before we turned in. Next day we put in a long 8 hours walking up to the highest summer pasture, with good views of the upper Batura Glacier and peaks at its end, before returning a little to a couple of huts, a few of the Passu women (who uniquely look after the animals in summer on the high pastures and make the cheese) and a couple of hundred goats to camp. After two more days backtracking, and being treated to the sight of an entire cliff face detach itself from the valley side and crash to the glacier below (we saw it long before we heard the roar), we returned to Passu and a bit of a piss up, a wedding in the village meaning there was a steady supply of Chinese arak available, the Ismaili's not being too strict on the no alcohol rule. Next day went to Mr Hada's for an excellent dinner with his lovely family, including meeting the women, the Ismaili being by far the most liberal offshoot of Islam, and all round the nicest people as well. Indeed the most abiding memory of our time in the Northern Areas was more the kindly, honest, funny and warm people than the mind blowing scenery; two things that combine to make it one of the very best regions on earth, and probably our favourite on this trip. After the trek, our mood flattened as we decided we'd spent enough time in the mountains and it was time to get to India, particularly as the visas take a week to come through in Islamabad. So we headed off down the KKH, having seen its full lenghth on the Pakistan side (we consider the Pamir highway to be much much more beautiful) and a few hours later noticed one of our iffy Tajik springs had gone, though this time we had a spare of sorts, so had it fixed up in no time. Got to Islamabad to find the Indian embassy was closed the next day (Friday), so were annoyed we rushed down from the mountains a little as we'd missed the Desoai plains, which would have been great fun in the cruiser, even with a likely broken srping. After a weekend getting bitten and meeting other tourists in cars, our first on this trip, at the Tourist campsite, headed off to Lahore for a few days of smog, noise and Murree beer. We stayed in a Christain run Hotel that had a sideline business of selling beer to its guests. The knock on the door, 'would you like some soap sir'...then once inside would you like some beer sir?. Naturally we obliged and felt like teenagers hiding away from our parents drinking beer, and we ended up with 15 bars of soap too.... Lahore being just too noisy and polluted we decided a few relaxing days in the hills would be better and, after being turned back from Kashmir as we didnt have the required permission or our passports, headed up to Murree and then on to Nataghali in the foothills. A very picturesque place, quiet and cool, we did a day walk up a 10,000ft peak, and are now, after a combo of asian diet, exercise and asian stomach troubles, for the first time in a while we are fit and slim!

We got back to Islamabad on the first day of Ramadan, and drew alot of nasty looks when trying to surroptiously eat an ice cream in the car before sundown. Ramadan itself interesting, kicked off by an air raid siren at 4am, alot of tents put up for extra praying (ten times a day for the faithful) and a bit of a feast at sundown, the mobile mosques turning into mobile restuarants between prayer times. Still we took it as our queue to leave the Muslim world, and after picking up our India visas made it through the border to Amristar in a day. Spent an enjoyable time there chekcing out the incredilbe Golden temple, the most beatiful religous building we've seen (and we've seen some of the world's finest), with a wonderfully freindly and peaceful atmoshpere to boot. Next day drove the few hundred clicks to Delhi through the crippling traffic, which is by a distance the worst on the trip so far. The amount of cars is probably less than say Iran, but its the other things on the road, the bikes, carts, rickshaws, cows, dogs, madmen etc. that cause the problem. Still we are used to it now (bumber to bumber driving, beeping the horn, generally driving like a nutter), though we still managed a few 'kisses' with a bus, truck, cart and lastly a very angry women (who didnt appreciate our advances) whilst squeezing through the melle in Old Delhi. Before getting into Delhi we were forced to stop by a car in front (nearly crashing into him), the driver asking if we had paid our "Delhi entry tax', all because he had a walky talky in his hand - we ignored him and drove on. India is undoubtedly throwing up some difficulties with the car, like trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to park the damn thing in Delhi. Still in the end we found a good spot, left the car to stay in another area, and got ourselves sorted with tickets to NZ and other things, and enjoying hanging out with Pete from Leeds and Guido from Holland in the watering holes (a novel experience) of Pahar Ganj. Left Delhi a few days ago and have just spent a charming couple of nights bush camping in the scrub of Rajhastan, taking a back lane route (on some baddish roads) and taking in each villages splendid fort or temple, being treated to free tea, coffee and even breakfast from the proud and very friendly locals in each one. Bush camping in India (or this region at least) seems to be no problem, and the scenery and sunsets are incredible, though we always have a few visitors and can always hear a nearby village, to be expected in a country of 1 billion people...and the people are not quite as polite as those further west (Indians like to stare!), e.g. this morning we were woken up with "get up its morning time, the sun is shining" (it hadnt yet risen), then with the guy pushing up on our roof tent "get up it is morning" (meaning get up so I can stare at you), then a few sharp words from us in reply, then the old Indian chesnut, "what country?" before he buggered off, all at 5am...

In the next few days we hope to do more of the same (hopefully minus the dawn visitors) on our way down to Gujarat and a long overdue appointment with the beach. We will stop there for a while recharging our batteries (and to celeberate our birthdays) before we head off again firstly to the western past of Gujarat, then east across the country.

Photos are of Kalash lads getting down, mountain reflected in pool, Passu, Autumnal colours on the trek, Batura first ice fall, and Mr Haida with his Yak.

A Short Drive in the Hindu Kush

As luck would have it, when discussing the question: "to Af or not to Af" in an internet cafe in Dushanbe, an Aussie publican, Nic, piped up - oh yeah just been there mate, ripper - and we spent a few hours and a few beers learning about the exciting sounding road ahead. Our drinking crew in Dushanbe's opera square (Dushanbe the nicest of the Soviet towns we visited) grew next day after we met a group of Americans working in Kabul, very much on the military side - we like to think they were CIA - and with views on everything that are way further to the right that most you come across on the road. There advice for Afghanistan: take your plates off, dont stop for anything and better still get a gun! After a pleasant few days in Dushanbe trying to ignore the mini light saber waving traffic police (another feature of the region, at every 100 meters in towns)and discusssing the 'roll the tanks in' views of our American freinds, with afghan visas in hand we headed to the border with Afghan further down on the Pyanj (or better known as Oxus) river. Stamped out of Taj, the Kenlowe fan went again, which needed fixing before we got on the tiny tug boat ferry. Hassled by the border guards to get on with the job or get stamped back in, got the fan sorted(ish) and after a short while borded the one platform (for one car) ferry, the starting problem becoming more and more acute as we tried to get on. After barely managing to get the old girl going before getting off the ferry, a v relaxed into Afghan in the clouds of dust, we sped the 70km to Kunduz past camel trains and tank traps in fine mood until on arrival our rushed botch up at the border went again. Some astonished looks from the locals as we got the fan running again - the engine being too hot even for a few block crawl without it - we got to our hotel (a reccomendation from Nic) which we were astonished to find was owned by a German, served cold German beer and German (pork!) sausages! There we met a NGO from Denmark who asked his driver to show us to a good mechanic for our badly needed repairs. His advice for the road ahead: don't take your plates off, do stop if you want to and don't carry a gun - everyone knows the cars that do that are full of Americans, and they are a target! The Mechanics came round straight away and sorted out the fan, but the source of the fuel problem not all that apparent. Thankfully all Afghanistan runs on Toyotas, and our type of LCruiser is common, so they soon found the problem next morning, the high pressure fuel lines that lift the fuel out of the tank having big holes in them - surely a result of the Tajik brutality to the old girl when fixing the springs. As the repairs, including changing the most suspect spring, took all day we stayed an extra day. An afternoon stroll turned into a bit of a nightmare after Cadie was followed and stared at (sometimes with menace) relentlessly - it seeming that Afghans are not ready for western women (even dressed appropriately) to walk around just yet. Car fixed up completely, we set off next day over the Hindu Kush via the Salang pass, stopping 15 or so times on the way up as, when there is a following wind, we have had to do since the UK to let the car cool down on the long ups. Scenery throughout beautiful,with charming villages strung along the crystal clear river, finally made it over the pass (and through the infamous tunnel)to the other side. Near the top we bumped into our mechanic, Gulwali, off to Kabul with his mates to spend our money on fast women and hard liquor no doubt...not. The pass on the other side even more charming as we passed a gypsy caravan and villages with terraced fileds of rice and corn, we made regular stops to chat with Gulwali and friends, them giving us a melon to add to our delicous chip lunch. Into Kabul for five o'clock, a little later than we had hoped. We had decided to stay at the Intercontinental as a treat, and as it is supposed to be easy to find (it being on a hill overlooking the town). Well, we couldnt find it, a most disageeeable situation, particularly as whilst driving we witnessed an altercation, Afghan style, in the traffic perhaps 20 yards ahead: 3 locals moving quickly and then all of a sudden pointing very heavy machine guns at each other, and at one point seemingly at us. On advice from a guy by the side of the road we reversed back up the street 100 or so yards, and were just a touch relieved to see the 3 guys get back in their car and speed off! After more driving around, once past the very mean looking ISAF tank convoys (also to be avoided as they are a target) we collared a taxi driver to show us the way. A few minutes later we were at the hotel, to find with horror that it only served non-alcholic beer. After recovering from the shock of that we decided to split town the next morning, and to get an Afghan, a driver for the hotel, to come with us to show us the way out of town, onto and through the Jalabad road, which passes through an area that is supposedly more risky than the areas further North. After an early start next day ( 4am )past the huge UN and ISAF compounds, our guide, who I was happy to let drive, showed us to the new road which is still officialy closed and which we would never have found. The drive through the Kabul Gorge past Surobi in the early morning light perhaps the most picture perfect of the trip, all going well and us going at high speed until we had a complete blow out, writing off the tyre, not too far from J'bad itself. Tyre changed in double quick time we got a new tyre in Jbad, Cadie sat in the back of the cruiser looking (according to our driver) like Mullah Omar with only her eyes showing through her headscarf. 2 hours later we were at the Torkham border, one of the easiest (and yet also most chaotic) of the trip. I (Tom) had tea and biscuits with the customs man, suffering a lecture on Israel and Bush & Blair, whilst Cadie sat sweating in the back of the car, our very friendly and helpful driver - a lovely guy who made our last day in Af the most enjoyable - having been replaced by the meaningless armed guard (of at least 100 and incapable of hitting the backside of a barn door) from the Khyber rifles that the Pakistan authorities insist on to accompany you to Peshawar. In high spirits, and more relaxed than for days, we sped through the historical yet unspectacular Khyber pass and finally arrived onto the subcontinent.

It has been a fanstastic and wonderfully varied journey to get here, through the pretty mountains of Europe, the Eurasian madness of the Caucuses, to liberal Iran (well the people are even if the goverment isnt) with its beautiful islamic architecture, then across the harsh and terribly hot steppe to the grand adventure of the last month in the mountains. We really enjoyed our time in the Soviet stans, with Tajik the undoubted highlight. Afghanistan in truly peaceful times would, for men at least, no doubt top the lot,and now that we are in Pak we have done 6 out of the 7 stans.

Now in Chitral after a nice few days in Peshawar buying two persian rugs (we only wanted one, but the salesman was very persuasive) and getting other things done to the car. After 2 days in Dir waiting for the Lowari pass to be cleared of a recent landslide caused by the monsoon rains, we slipped over the very rocky and very rough road that is now open for some traffic and spent the night at the stunning Naghar fort (for free) as the guest of Prince Siraj and family. Sadly the food they served cant have been all that Royal as we now both have a bad tummy that is thankfully now clearing. We have now hooked up with Iqbal Jan, a guy who took Paul and me trekking when we visited in 1999, and who it is pleasing to see is still as much of likeable rogue as we was then. We are off to his house for dinner tonight. After that we will make our way slowly over to Gilgit, where we hope to do some trekking, by foot and by car, up to the Nanga Parbat or Rakaposhi basecamp (by foot) and the Deseoi plains, a high Alpine plain at the foot of Nanga Parbat, by car. However we are not in any rush, after three and a half's months of virtual constant travel we have definitely slowed down.

Photos are of: 'Across the Oxus', Camel train near Kunduz, Gypsy caravan, Salang Pass, Gulwali with freinds and Mullah Omar, Surobi in the early morning light on the Jbad road.