The 16th Hole - My Story

Today Dad & I went to play golf.



Making sure my feet are apart & not moving, remembering not to bend my knees I swing...



... oops and hit Dad in the knee. Ha ha!



So what are you looking at?

I made it to the green - I'm not really walking across it with my trolley. Thats an illusion.



Careful not to chip it into the bunker.



Its back to get my putter.



Carefully now - aiming for the hole...



It stops just short!!



I think I beat Dad but he said we weren't keeping score so it was a draw. I know I won!!

Good game though.

I am Hunter

This is my weapon - the EX360 - pump action intergalactic h20 squirtamatic with fully rechargeable cylinder.



I am Ben the Hunter. Ready to face all evil with my trusty & very cool looking hound, Lucy Liu.



Don't let the socks fool you, be afraid - very very afraid.

If you get in my way you will get wet, very very wet.

What a Weekend

Last weekend really was fantastic - one of the best for a very long time where I felt myself again.

On Friday morning I went out for a short 25 mile bike ride with Kevin - through Hurn and into the New Forest in preparation for Sundays 66 miler for the British Heart Foundation. That night it was Busts for a curry, sadly he was called to New York, as always it was good to mix with friends new and old again. So glad all my kids are older too.

Saturday was spent just pootling around, doing shopping and other bits and pieces. Early in the evening Phil & Marissa arrived from London to do the ride as well. We cycled down the prom and had a quick and very pleasant beer at Boscombe Pier before heading back for a quick BBQ and too much Vodka whilst the sun set. Wolfed down and not at all ruined by the potato salad I had let burn dry earlier - it just had that rustic smokey taste.

Sunday morning, we were up at 7.00 loaded the cars and headed to Kev's to make our way to Wimborne and the start of the ride. With an only slightly sore bum, Camelback in place, tool box stuffed with bananas and Mars Bars on the pannier rack we headed off. Phil a seasoned pro soon sped off and Marissa followed as our pace was too slow - at an average of 13mph. A beautiful sunny day the Dorset countryside was stunning with yellow fields of rape contracting the lush spring green as it passed slowly by. At 20 miles - with my bum only slightly hurting, the route split and it was time to decide to do the 50 or 69 mile course. The hills just before this point absolutely killed me - I was down to 1st / 2nd gear and my thighs burning like hell so I decided to do the 50. Kevin, Lisa, Dean & Nick all being fitter than me went right to do the 66. Well they did do the 50 last year and wanted to improve.



Meandering along past streams and picturesque villages and houses punctuated with a couple of breaks for bananas, mars bars and more water it was only spoilt by a couple of killer hills and then more glorious countryside. When my camera is fixed I'll be back to take some photo's and walk the dog.



Just as I was starting to lag with 10 miles to go, the route joined the 25 mile ride, which gave me a new impetus to pass more people than had been passing me! They were mainly families but it did keep me going at a good rate despite my bum being serious bruised, my hands on fire and my kidneys being pierced with needles by some unseen sadist. Even the 7, 5 & 2 mile to go signs were wrong - a mile too early. Battling to the finish line meant riding up a hill to the school where we started - why do they do this - make you pay for it all even more over the last mile? Just not fair anyways 50 miles in 2 hours 50 mins riding time with a little extra time for stops. Not bad at all given I only started training on the Wednesday.

As I rode back into the car park Phil was waiting sunning himself lazily in his camp chair - back for while after going half way round the 66 mile route then heading back. Marissa arrived ten minutes later having done the full 66 miles in just over three hours. That is going some.

Getting out of hot sticky clothes I settled down to watch the end of the Turkish GP, listen to the football while gently snoozing and watching out for the others. They came in at around 4 1/2 hours. Lisa was the 9th woman to finish the 66 mile route. Sore hot sweaty but very happy and rightly so. Next year I'll be able to finish with them.

The day ended with another BBQ and a reasonably early tumble into bed, shattered but content.

British Adventurers Complete Epic Journey

Nephews - just what will they get up to next!!

They nearly froze to death in Greenland and almost drowned in Antarctic seas but two young British adventurers successfully completed a 22,000 mile journey between the earth’s magnetic poles when they arrived in Australia today.



James Hooper, 21, and Rob Gauntlett, who turns 21on Saturday, became the first people ever to travel from the North Magnetic Pole to the South Magnetic Pole and onto Australia under their own steam.

They arrived in Sydney Harbour shortly after dawn at the end of an epic voyage in which they skied across the Arctic ice cap, cycled the length of the Americas and sailed from Chile to Australia.The record-breaking journey took them a year, a month and a day.

They relied on wind and muscle power for the entire route in a bid to highlight the threat of global warming and the harm done to the environment by carbon emissions.

Beneath a cloudless blue sky, the pair sailed into Sydney Harbour on board the Blizzard, a metal-hulled yacht which nearly capsized in the middle of the Southern Ocean two weeks ago when it was hit by a giant wave.

The wall of water smashed the boat onto its side so that the mast was forced beneath the surface. The two Britons and the rest of their small crew feared they would be swept overboard.

“That was a bit of a scary moment,” said Mr Hooper at a press conference at the Australian National Maritime Museum.

“Blinding spray was being whipped up by 70 knot winds. A 70ft-high swell came up behind the boat with a huge breaking tip. I could see what was about to happen so I just grabbed a pole and hung on for dear life.”

Mr Gauntlett said: “The mast went underneath the water. The whole world was turned upside down. To be here is a huge relief.”

An even more dangerous moment came at the very start of the odyssey, when Mr Gauntlett fell through ice as the pair skied across Greenland.

“I was in the water for four minutes and then I was unconscious for four hours. I realised I could easily have lost my life,” he said. “That was a low point for me.”

As they docked in Sydney’s Darling Harbour, an Aboriginal elder performed a traditional cleansing ceremony with smoking eucalyptus leaves.

The Britons, who met at Christ’s Hospital School in Horsham, West Sussex, were greeted by dozens of friends, family and well-wishers, including the New South Wales minister for tourism, Matt Brown.

“There’s got to be a much bloodier easier way to get to Australia,” the minister joked. “You’re doing terrible things for our tourism campaign — we’re trying to tell people how easy it is to get here.”

The pair established their expedition credentials in 2006 when they became, at the age of 19, the youngest Westerners to climb Mount Everest.

They then featured in an Adidas campaign, Impossible is Nothing, alongside David Beckham.

Just reaching the start of their journey in April last year took eight days. A blizzard meant they were unable to be dropped by helicopter at the Magnetic North Pole, so instead they traveled by dog sled led by Inuit guides.

From Greenland they sailed to New York, and from there cycled 11,000 miles through the United States, Central America and South America to Punta Arenas in the far south of Chile.

One of the toughest stretches was through the Atacama Desert, where for 1,000 miles they saw barely a bird, animal or plant.

With the help of a professional skipper and crew, they sailed the Blizzard, an Australian expedition yacht, to the Falkland Islands and then 9,000 miles across the Southern Ocean, stopping briefly at the remote French sub-Antarctic territory of the Kerguelen Islands.

They reached the Magnetic South Pole before pressing on to Hobart, Tasmania, and finally Sydney.

Entering the harbour and receiving such a large reception was “overwhelming”, they said.

“Completing the expedition seemed like such an impossible, distant feat when we set out,” said Mr Gauntlett, of Petworth, Sussex. “We had huge problems along the way, both financial and physical.” Apart from nearly capsizing, the most sobering part of the journey was seeing the impact of global warming in the Arctic.

“The sea ice has thinned by 50 per cent over the last 20 years,” said Mr Hooper, of Wellington, Somerset. “There are huge changes going on up there which mean we all need to start making changes to our lifestyle to reduce our carbon emissions.” The watch system on board the boat meant that neither Briton slept for more than three hours at a time. “Sleep is the most precious thing so it will be nice to have a full night,” said Mr Hooper. They were also looking forward to a beer and being on dry land.

The friends intend to write a book and produce a documentary about their journey before planning another adventure.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/australiaandthepacific/1941575/British-adventurers-complete-epic-journey.html

Fancy A Trip To Jo'burg?

The phone rang around 8am in the morning, never a good sign when I'm not working. I was still in bed, though I can't remember if I was awake or not. Patty asked "Do you want to go to Jo-burg to do lives in the bureau with Stuart - about the Zimbabwean elections - leaving tonight?" Hmmm... Steph was supposed to be coming down for a few days and we had some gourmet mussels planned and a possible day trip to France. I called Steph, waking him up and let him know the bad news. Big shame & very frustrating.

Packed for a week, bundled everything into the car and headed up to London. Not until I had phoned around the local outdoor shops though to see who had a pair of Brasher Superlite boots. Sounds obsessive I know, but they really are fantastic boots - lightweight, very comfortable and excellent for hot climates. My previous pair - traveled across 4 continents, with over 6 years of daily use, resoled twice - they had just given out through leather fatigue and had a huge titanic sized hole in them. Thankfully the local Oswald Bailey did and with a 10% discount secured started up the motorway.

All was ready at the office - picked up my ticket details, some cash and packed all my kit ready for transfer to Heathrow. Taking the bus with Andy, one of our engineers who would help run the dish with Mick (who was already there), we met up with Stuart & Nick at the airport. Whilst waiting, Stuart casually mentioned the fact that the plan was to go on to Zimbabwe on the 4pm flight tomorrow afternoon. A couple of quick paniced phone calls then followed looking for extra kit. JT - who was flying that night by a later flight would be bringing me a Bgan - essential for feeding and lives from basically anywhere. By the time we had checked in, been to customs with the dreaded carnet, we only had time for one beer before getting on our flight. Why can't someone invent a more freindly way of travelling.

From London (somewhere near the top of the world) to Jo-burg (the southern most paw) - our flight arrived first thing in the morning. The plan - to go the the hotel, shower change, grab some lunch and take the flight to Harare to see if we could get in. Well if you don't try you don't know what you can do!!




At the hotel the first thing was to have a long hot shower in a cubicle with a window overlooking the city. Strange but cool and really refreshing. That done time to sort the kit out - which basically meant leaving everything and just taking the bare essential kit we would need. Paring down about 100kg to less than 5kg! When I say 'we' would take - 'we' couldn't as if we were stopped on arrival we would have been immediately clocked as journalists - which wouldn't have been good. So we used a "Mule" to take the most obvious stuff. The Mule, strangely, was a bit nervous at seeing what they would be carrying - though not a great deal to be honest. We tried to allay their fears and conceal what they were to carry as much as possible. We still carried a fair bit, which we could justify as normal holidaying stuff.

Nick and I worked on our story - we would enter together as tourists - staying for a night in Harare - at the Miekles Hotel - and then be heading up country to Victoria Falls, see some game, do a bit of fishing, and then cross to Zambia, and fly to Cape Town for Nick's Stag weekend. Sorted. Sounded a truly wonderful holiday. Stuart, as the name, face and previously banned from Zimbabwe, was on his own.

After a very good burger, Stuart, Nick, The Mule and I headed back to the airport. All was going well - even time for two beers followed by a quick walk to the gate - only to find The Mule had mysteriously lost their boarding pass - with minutes to go before the flight was to leave. We had to go so left them there and hoped they would be on the next flight. Nerves or just plain bad luck - not sure but wasn't the best of starts.

And so we landed in Harare...

A Large Man in Harare

Nick and I lagged behind Stuart as we walked into the immigration hall. We filled in our landing cards - just like at school each checking what the other one had written so they tallied up. Occupation well obviously - advertising duh! Stuart was a couple ahead of us in the queue. This was crunch time as he had already been banned from the country and would have been put on the plane back to South Africa if they didn't let him in. If this happened Nick and I were to continue on - as normal. Thankfully there didn't seem to be much fuss at all, having payed he moved to the next counter where he was issued his visa, wondered around to the baggage carousel, collected his bag and made his way through customs.

"Good Evening" I said to the immigration guy, remaining calm and not trying to look like an intrusive journalist.
"Evening, visa fee - $70 please"
"OK" I looked in my wallet and only had $100 bills, "Do you have change?"
"No". Going well this I thought. As far as tips were concerned $30 was a little high.
"Nick, do you have any $20 notes?.... Damn"
"Can I pay in British Pounds?"
"£35". That was fine I had £60 - got £10 from Nick and then paid for both of us.

That sorted, he handed my passport over to the visa stamp guy, and I waited behind the person before me. Called forward, waiting a bit longer, he handed me my passport - yes I was in - relief. I checked it. It was Nick's - not so much relief. I gave it to Nick - which must have confused the visa guy - and he asked "Why are you here?"
"For a holiday - we're staying at the Meikles, then going fishing on the Zambezi and then up to Victoria Falls'"
"What do you do?"
"We're in advertising"
"What?"
"Adverts..... you know we make posters like those" pointing to the traditional airport walls covered in tourist and mobile phone adverts.
"Uh" he waved Nick through and picked up my passport.
"..... ... journalists. .... ...." he said to his colleague. But the one taking the money took no notice.
"....... ......... journalists ...... ......." again.
"Its OK ....... ... they paid .... ........"

and with that I got my passport. Met Nick with the bags and skipping on air we left for Customs - which thankfully wasn't manned.

Coming into the main hall it was very quiet, all the shops were closed and there were only a few people milling around waiting for those behind us to come through. Nick nipped off to the loo and I went out side to find Stuart.

As I came through the doors and headed for Stuart he turned towards me - but avoided me and whispered through clenched lips "I've been made. Don't stand with me. .......... ........... ........" I'm wasn't sure at all what the last words were - I'm sure they must have been important so doing as he said I moved on a bit and parked the trolley against some railings so it wouldn't roll into the road. Stuart in his 'seedy' / worn leather jacket (which you'll see a bit later) with cigarette in hand melted back into the shadows of the entrance. What the hell am I / are we supposed to do now. Not sure I waited and turned my phone on.

Trying to stand nonchalantly and not staring at Stuart I looked around to see if anyone was watching him or paying more interest in us than should be. Nothing, no one - though he was well hidden in the dark - just as they could be. Suddenly feeling very inept and exposed, I realised I had no phone numbers no names nothing to try and get out of this. Possibly for the best as less to implicate me. Eventually Nick came back from having a wee. He passed Stuart completely and came over. I told him what Stuart had said - or I had thought he said. I am not sure how long it took but neither of us could get our phones to work. Either no network log on to, no coverage, network busy, number does not exist, basically anything and everything to thwart us making phone calls or sending texts. Something that we got used to very quickly and would live with until we got out. Texts, non existent and partial phone calls later we managed to let Dan back in South Africa know what happened. This had taken 20 mins if not more - all the while waiting for a large man to come up to us and say "Come with me....."

Stuart, who had now moved out of the shadows and into the complete dark a little further along the building, was only distinguishable by the glowing tip of his fag, soon emerged phone in hand and said we had to go round to the other side, cross into the car park and find a red car. Great - its dark and we have to find a red car in the car park and not the one with the large man in!

We crossed the road and made our way into the car park - which had at least 200 cars in, strangely enough we were the only three white blokes around - no doubt looking lost. A large man approached us.

"Are you Dan's friends?"
"Yes."
"OK come with me."

What would you do... of course follow him... which we did. We put our stuff into the boot of the car and squeezed into the back. Sat in the front was another, slightly smaller man - on crutches - Jesus can it get any more surreal?

He turned around "Hi I'm Randall and this is Hopkirk, sorry about the delay but its good to see you here". (Not their real names!) Hopkirk, who is a very nice large man, added "I walked through arrivals a few times but couldn't see three guys together so missed you, sorry." And we delivered ourselves into their hands as we drove out into the warm & starry night.

When Stuart came through from Customs some one had come up to him and said "Good to see you here to cover the elections then" or something equally distinct. "No holiday of course".

Conversation followed about where we would be staying, ease of getting around, driver, food money, what the Mule was doing with the other kit we needed. as we made our way to the lodge where we would be staying that night. The plan was for tomorrow was to move into a house and the owner would move out for while we were there. Most interesting and welcoming were the various discussions that Randall & Hopkirk had on route .... how to avoid the road blocks!

Ted's House

We arrived at Gecko Gardens successfully avoiding any road blocks. About half an hour's drive from the airport it turned out to be a nice lodge on the edge of Harare and safe for us to stay the night in - so Randall said. Having dropped us off he and Hopkirk left - they would be back first thing in the morning to take us to the house which we could use as long as it was suitable.



Our rooms ended up being in a little house with two bedrooms and a lounge area. Stuart being a smoker had his own room and Nick and I bunked together. Dumping our gear, visiting the toilet, thankfully a proper one - not a hole in the ground. In fact Africa seems very civilized in that respect from my few visits, we headed down to dinner. The main building was a modest affair with a bar area where we settled first for some beers and gin & tonics which relaxed us after our acting sessions. For dinner it was Pork Chops with something on top.... or something else. In India I would never have chosen pork - ever - but here .... yummm..... clean air - open countryside.... and it was really very good. A bit over cooked but very nice after a long day of traveling. What did seem a bit bizzare was that while Rome burned or rather Harare was harassed plenty of people were dining out and listening to the local jazz band. A funky ol' dinner.

During the meal we found out that our Mule had made it through Harare airport at last - with boarding pass this time. Good news. The bad news being the camera they were carrying had been confiscated by customs. Bugger or rather BIG bugger or words to those effect. It really did hamper what we could do. Two Pakistani press cards where in with the stuff and these had been found. I could have sworn that I had taken everything out of the camera bag and now felt really bad at having lost the camera and put the Mule through the wringer, who was understandably upset at being given a hard time when coming back through customs. Thankfully the Bgan made it through, and we would get that in the morning. As a backup Nick had a little handicam in his bag so at least we would be able to to something and get it back to London.

Breathing a bit easier now, the day ended back in our lounge with a fire in the hearth crackling gently, whilst we chilled out with some duty free and tried to work out the next plan of action.

The next morning we had breakfast and waited for Randall to turn up to take us to our new home. Teddy House. We waited a bit more - tried to call with no luck and continued to wait. It became very apparent that all the white Zimbabweans we encountered knew who Stuart was. He had been based in South Africa for a few years and also the fact they all watch Sky News in any case meant that getting around wouldn't be easy. Finding somewhere safe to stay essential and most important. It turned out many of our conversations were based on how to leave it. Eventually Randall turned up but this time with James who would be our driver while we where there.

Hmm those press cards... mine ... errr.... no as it turns out. There were two cards for different two people that the Mule had luckily enough found before going through immigartion in the stuff they had been given. Not small ones either, A5 in size and not with my name and face on but who's could they be. Would that be Stuart then? Never couldn't be. Doh! God did I feel better.

It took an absolute age to pay - something to do with US$, Zim$, the internet and other stuff and it finally came to pass that everything was loaded into the car and we set off for Ted's House. My personal nickname for it. It does make sense but won't explain why. Arriving I think we were all very apprehensive at what we would find - namely would it be safe? Driving up the steel gate through a very similar type of area to the 'exclusive' compounds of Delhi, nestled in between lots of similar houses, tucked away from casual prying eyes down a number side streets away from main routes. The only people who should see us come and go would be those who lived and worked there. First impressions seemed to say it would be secure enough - though we really had no choice.

Once the gate rolled back, and we had parked inside we were confronted by Bubbles who didn't quite know what to make of us - apart from putting her tale between her legs and running away. So much for a vicious Rottweiler.



It didn't take long for her to warm to us as we sat out planning, talking eating drinking and just being around. Something she just didn't seem to be used to. In fact she took a huge shine to Nick - always bounding up when he came and sat outside - strange how love works!! At times though she was annoying. In hindsight I must say that smacking an untrained Rottweiler, in a country with little medical facilities, which we couldn't use, wouldn't have been the smartest of things to do. I did do it a couple of times though and still have all my limbs. Did Bubbles learn anything - probably not. Me - I don't like taking on Rotties!! But by the time we left she was very useful - barking whenever the gate opened and when she was not sure what was happening would position herself between us and whatever, usually the driveway - alert and protecting us.



Inside the house was clean, fully furnished, a bit green. Sky News available too which always makes things easier. Most noticeably was the supplies all over the place, behind doors, in cupboards, stacked all over the place. And all sorts of wierd stuff - tomato ketchup, toilet rolls, tins of tuna, pasta sauces.... Very much a sign of the fact that when something was in stock you horded it - bought in large supplies or imported it when you got a chance. The owner showed us around before they left. We would have the house to ourselves as they would stay with friends for the time being. One of the obvious signs of the shortages was the up keep - less than half the bulbs worked, not all the toilets or showers worked - but most importantly there was plenty of space for us to live and work - and with the gate closed it did feel safe.

Very quickly settling in we made the initial work space on the dining table, Stuart beavering away here, able to communicate to the outside world via the amazing thing that is 'The Bgan".



Apart from when we started the journey home, this middle bit of the trip seemed to all flow together with things happening on odd days - so it has become a bit of a blur... no real reference either not wanting to write things down in case we were picked up. According to Stuart we did keep ourselves busy - by the time we left he had used a fair chunk of his notebook on scripts. We must have been busy then - even if it didn't seem that way!

The second day Stuart and I went out for a drive to downtown Harare with James. Camera all prepared hidden in a bag between the seats - with Stuart in front we headed off. This is one of the those times when you know you are doing something wrong but no-one else does, even so you feel very self conscious - that big sign on your forehead shouting ' western spy dog' really isn't there. None the less it does make you think and watch what you are doing all the time. Downtown seemed to be fairly normal - lots of people - loads of queues - especially at the banks, mostly locals with very few whites around. Still we drove around and I tried to keep the camera as discreet as possible - not easy even with a small one. We didn't stay long as its not that big and driving round in circles would have made us stand out so we headed back, trying to remember the route to the house just in case we had to make it back by foot one day.

As we had flown in very light without all my gadgets and gizmo's to we had to revert to a very basic setup. This was Plan A in trying to create a good sound for Stuarts voice track still sounded a bit hollow. By the end we got to E or F.



Having edited a package based on what we had shot in town together with stuff already in London - we moved to the 'live' position which was outside my bedroom and secluded from all eye's and hopefully most ears. Garwen was using a very bushy green hedge as Emma's background somewhere in Bulawayo (southern Zimbabwe). Reluctant to do the same - it doesn't look very nice and we could have been next to each other so our little garden proved to be exactly top notch. A couple of walls and a tree. Not having any lights required a little ingenuity and the only way to light Stuart was to take the broken standard light from the lounge and use that - stealing a bulb from somewhere else. The foil - which was the last in the house - came a little later to maximize the light output. The tree behind him also had a torch on it just to give a little distinction between the two. In the end it worked very well.



In fact it is quite amazing what you can do with kit now. There has been a huge shift and reduction in size over the last four or five years. You could fit everything we had into a smallish rucksack (25/30l) - probably with space too. No tripod - which we had to hire from Randall & Hopkirk - but that would have been a bit obvious coming through the airport!! Of course I would have liked more - and spares too. 'We' did go through various stages of panic when we didn't have the right stuff, or it broke & had to make up work-a-rounds - but that's all part of the fun - & I love it.



As you can see from the satelitte photo of the house it is fairly secure with high walls that had the ubiquitous electric fence on the top. The gate had to be opened via a button on the intercom. Not that you could tell who was on the outside. What you did know was when it was opening as the low rumbling noise as it rolled on its steel wheels cut through everything. It meant that all of us, Bubbles included, would always turn and watch whoever / whatever came in before breathing again and resuming what we were doing. Very paranoic. During power cuts we had to open it manually - first you had to look, and ask who was on the other side and hope.... oh joy.

The patio was used day and night - a perfect sun trap and place to view the southern stars. Our concealed live spot was a real bonus actually, the "Real Secret Garden" ensuring the really large men at the CIO - Central Intelligence Organisation didn't have a clue where to find us.

Three Queens & A Bgan

This is a what a serious bundle of cash looks like - there is over Z$1,000,000,000 - a billion dollars here (Zimbabwean style) - which at the time was little more than £200 or so. Not sure if I have my figures right as the conversion rate is horrendous.



If you look there are Z$500,000 / Z$750,000 and Z$10,000,000 notes. While we were there the bank issued Z$100,000,000 notes. I kept one - now framed, and madly it is only valid for 3 months - expiring on the 30 June 2008.

One of the stories we were told - I can absolutely believe it's true - revolves around the dual exchange rate scam. There are two exchange rates; Official - Z$30,000 to US$1 and Street - Z$4,500,000 to US$1. (Even the Government uses Street at times, and they even admit publicly to buying grey imports). Say you happened to be the son of a senior party/general/government figure - you may perhaps one day walk into the Central Bank and say "Give me US$1, I'm going overseas and need it." (I'm using small numbers deliberately). You put the crisp dollar bill in your wallet and leave. Getting in your Mercedes Benz your Dad paid £25 for (yes that's right), you drive to see your friend who buys your US$1 at Street value. You exchange the bill for Z$4,500,000. Armed with your Z$'s you go back and change this to US$ at the banks official rate. You get handed US$150. This handily still fits back into your wallet. You do the same again and from a couple of trips to the bank and the money changer having started with nothing, you now have case full - US$22,500 / £11,500. An amazing way of stripping the Central Bank of all foreign currency and ruining a country - but its only a story!

Back to life in Ted's house and our daily routine of getting all the kit out in the morning having to hide it away at night once done, just in case we were raided, hopefully we could explain ourselves away as tourists. In the middle of one session squirreling away tapes on the top of the wardrobe in my room I came across a very fetching number in the head gear department. Honestly it is a wig and not what I look like at midnight.



A couple of days in, Roger arrived. He, again, simply flew in to Harare and came through with out problems. Somehow I don't think he declared himself as a journalist either, telecoms this time. He was here to oversea the land invasion - the mass deluge of presenters / engineers and more crews once it was safe to come in which looked imminent. He did bring valuable bits for the camera that we needed and lots of chocolate too. Half of which was spirited away by someone somewhere in Jo-burg or Harare.



He didn't get very far in completing his task as I think it was the day he arrived a hotel in downtown Harare got raided by the police and ruling ZanuPF party with an American journalist and opposition MDC worker being arrested. As soon as we heard that, very quickly via the grapevine, everything was immediately packed up, London called to say we were done for the day and we sat waiting, watching and thinking how we would get out should we have to make a move quickly. Within the next couple of days both ITN and the BBC pulled out very swiftly. After a short conflab about it, as we still felt safe in our house and trusted the people around us (they had as much to loose as we did), we stayed put. Lesson of the day - sometimes it is better to stay and not be seen rather than run and risk being seen.

One of the major benefits of Roger's presence - it allowed us to play whist. Once the sun had gone down we lit the candles in the dining room, as there weren't any working light bulbs in left there and the cards came swiftly out. With MTV or VH1 on in the background providing the tunes, it was a very pleasant way of passing the time. Nick and Roger were partnered together and I was with Stuart. We absolutely trounced them 30 points/hands to 0 on the first day. I don't know how but our hands were very strong and we played well off each other. Sadly for the next two nights we didn't do so well. Lost both times - the cards just not being with us no matter how we played. On aggregate though they didn't catch us up. And then Roger left - and the cards stayed in their pack. Do need to find a game for three.

Can't go any further with out starting on the food. The first couple of nights we did have take-aways. Spicy chicken and chips which was lovely though you can only eat the same thing so many times. A luxury in having our own house and not being in a hotel was home cooking and not having to suffer the same menu. Herbs and spices were in the kitchen - though not the freshest, the biggest bind being having to crush peppercorns using a mug and wooden soon. With a reasonable stock of food in the house - most staples left by the owner, Nick and I started to cook lunch and dinners - fried rice with spicy beef (reconstituted burgers) / pasta arriagato / omlette's and even managed stunning pork steaks with a delicious peppercorn sauce. All went down very well on the whole with no leftovers. If I could remember more I would. We didn't starve. The one thing that does vividly stick out is the quality of the fresh food. The eggs were superb and the pork steaks - even though very well cooked by Nick (deliberately) remained very juicy and succulent. Free range natural organic meat you can't beat it. According to Stuart, Nick and I constantly sounded like a pair of old queens discussing ingredients and tasting dishes. Heathen - though he did eat what we put in front of him! Our restaurant when we open in is going to be called 'Three Queens and a B-gan".

Stuarts role in food preparation however seemed to be asking if it was 'that' time of day yet - usually around 4 or 5 pm - and on the whole - it jolly well was. It really was a very important role and one that should not be diminished at all. All in all we did go through a few bottles of gin and crates of beer - not every day! (But almost). It also helped considerably in calming the nerves when the gate opened at night and send us to soundly to sleep.

The two other people at the house who were helping to look after us - doing the washing up / washing clothes were Micky and Sisser. Micky was the gardener, who when Sisser wasn't around turned his hand, deftly to the household chores without asking. He worked tirelessly and was always on hand to help out. Sisser offered to cook us lunch one day - which Stuart said would be different and not very nice. It ended up being very over cooked sheep or goat on the bone - which I don't like anyway - with some maize meal and tasteless leafy veg - he was right - though worth a try. Personally the Three Quee's restaurant rocked!

Big trouble at mill. Through a source - I'm not sure where from but we discovered that there was a list of names at the airport. Stuart & Emma's appeared on it. A list of 'undesirables' which meant the idle conversation we had before about which way to leave were now our only real options. Three main areas we had to consider where - whether to go through a border crossing or not, which country to go to (Zambia, Botswana, Mozambique or South Africa) and how would we get to the border. In the days to come we spent a lot of time planning how to leave. Not sure whether it increased or decreased the paranoia but it somehow seemed to help keep spirits up. This was in between the jokes about me not wanting to be let out of prison as I would be notching up too much overtime and days off!!

When Roger left going through Harare airport he had no problem going through check in and immigration - but before getting on the plane there was a second deliberate name and passport check. A few days after the American journalist's arrest he was admitted to hospital having fallen out of his prison bed - very badly! Hmm. Sadly we did miss our whist partner.

As you may have noticed there hasn't been a photo of Nick yet - its coming later on - its just that I didn't take many photos just in case we got lifted. The real reason is actually Nick's a spy. No really - he's looks about 20, has been to every country in the world, can vanish into a crowd without a trace in a blink in an eye. To prove my point he once smuggled political papers into Serbia or somewhere round there - only as someone at an airport asked him to! To back my theory up, Nick had a couple of small bits of paper with all his scribbles, notes and numbers on. Just loose - not in a notebook, and well worn by the time we left. Lastly and most importantly he's is a really nice calm easy going bloke. Case closed - spook.

Down Town Harare

Since we had done a couple of stories from Harare just driving round in the car there was now a limited amount we could really do. Driving to find to one of the townships on spec would have been very risky, both to ourselves and those around us so it was down to playing a waiting game for a major development. Randall & Hopkirk came around most evenings to tell us what they had done or seen as well as to sort out use of the house and driver. As it turned out they had been given one of our 'button' cameras but hadn't been able to get it to work. They brought it aroundand it round and it turned out they hadn't charged the transmitter unit. Knowing it was coming we came up with a plan to put it to good use. Basically it would involve Stuart and I walking around down town Harare to see what we would see. Simple, daring and hopefully very effective.

First though was fitting the camera - which involved cutting a button off one of my shirts, enlarging the hole slightly and then popping through the camera so it looked just like a button - to anyone who didn't have a button fetish. Not the exact same colour but near enough. Having past my peak physical prime (only just) this first involved deciding which button hole to use so the camera didn't rest on the top of my taught and honed stomach and end up facing skywards. After many tries, a little jiggle here and there together and some handy sellotape we found the perfect position to get Stuart in frame at most distances. With the cable tucked away and the transmitter down the back of my trousers - the receiver and recorder in a rucksack we set off. Thoughts about going into the lions den.... yes.... nervous... yes.... heart racing... yes...

On the way into town Stuart reminded me of the route should we have to split up and walk back. I pre-programmed a text message into my phone to 4 or 5 key people letting them know " I need a lift" i.e help - been nicked!!

Just before James dropped us off at the yellow paw (near the bottom of the map) I started the recorder and we were ready to go. We told him to wait by the DHL office for us, the red paw.



I know that no one knew I had a camera but I felt very self conscious about it - "look I've got a secret camera and if you catch me you'll think I'm a spy and I won't like that very much" was going round my head incessantly. Trying not to stand out and to draw as little attention to myself as possible, we kept on the move. Not conducive for filming so the way round this was to try and look lost and confused allowing me time to stand still. Looking one way, counting to ten, then looking another way and doing the same. Nerve racking but it worked.

Having got out of the car, immediately a very lovely and curvaceous woman came out of a shop and started walking right in front of us. No matter what you do there always seems to be a bright spot to cheer you up. At the first corner there is a Barclays Bank with the usual queue outside. We turned right and headed up the pedestrian area - sometimes with Stuart ahead and sometimes side by side. Trying to stop here and there to film groups of police or queues. A lot of both. Carrying on up the street we came to cross a road where we had to stop for traffic lights. Luckily there were about 5 coppers in riot gear standing there too. Turning my body to film them I tried not to look at them directly but keep still. One did study me more intensely - probably because not many whites came downtown any more. Thankfully the lights changed and Stuart was half way across before I started to catch him up. In terms of blending in I do love my Tilley hat but the one thing about it is its very recognizable and does stand out, so I did take it off to help blend in more! Following a meandering route we passed the High Court building, a Police Station & prison, walked right through the middle of a group of about 10 police at another junction, stopped to look at the Parliament building while an Army Officer walked past looking at me as I looked lost again.

Right about this point we started to feel a little more uncomfortable and decided to pop to the main strip again and then head back to DHL to find James. On the way back we spotted a pickup truck full of Police and went to film them - again chest pointing at them but not looking directly that way - hoping they were in frame as they were on the other side of the street. Done that we headed straight through the park and off to meet James. The long walk home. Thankfully he saw us coming, pulled round so we could jump straight in the car and headed back to the house.

As soon as we started off I couldn't help but check to see what we got. Rewinding a little and there was nothing but noise and then the odd image intermittently. No, no, no, NO. I really didn't want to do that again. Not today anyway. Going further back - more of the same. Heart falling. Starting at the beginning - it was fine. Thank God something had recorded. Checking all the way through for some reason the recorder became intermittent about half way round our walk and then would only record when I wasn't moving. Sadly we missed the walk through the middle of the police which would have been a really nice two fingers to Mugabe.

Safely back at the house - a large G & T really worked a treat.

Karoi - What Road Block?

Through Nicks sterling work we hooked up with a man called Mike Mason a local Zimbabwean. Mike was a tobacco farmer who was kicked off his farm back in 2000 and has been trying to survive since then by doing many different things, always remaining in support of his country, both in trying to help those who can't protect themselves and also to change the Mugabe regime, like others. The plan was to meet him for a coffee and see what stories he had for us.

The day started badly with James nipping out in the car to do a couple of errands - just for half an hour or so. 2 hours later he returned - and given the continued lack of any sort of phone service Nick wasn't able to rouse him to get him back. As a result we missed out first scheduled meet time and it had to be shifted.

This was also the start of our two / three car moves wherever we went. Nick and I would go ahead and meet the contact make sure everything was OK. James would then go back for Stuart and as soon as he arrived we would head off in the contacts car, leaving James behind waiting. All the while trying to make sure Stuart spent as little time in public as possible. Though we tried to meet where the local white Zimbabweans shopped, though you could never could tell if the CIO or informers were hanging around watching and waiting.

I had the button camera on again as we were meeting Mike in a local cafe and this meant we could film the conversation with out arousing too much suspicion. Everyone must have though I had the runs the amount of times I went to the toilet to sort the camera out. Stuart, being the good journalist he is, forgot to bring the bag with the handicam in - so James had to go back for it. Honestly they are all the same - give them something to hold, look after, be responsible for, a journo will lose it / break it... even if it is theirs. The amount of times I have had to pick up after Richard B, Alex C, Stuart and all the others over the years, it really does prepare you well for having children. Not in the job description at all.

While waiting for Stuart to arrive we had a good chat - it was nice to talk to someone else being sat in pleasant surroundings. It turned out that some opposition MDC supporters had been beaten up and one person killed not too far from Harare, in a place called Karoi. They were at a doctors surgery getting treatment. It was a couple of hours drive and as it was after lunch we would have to get a move on if we wanted to be back before dark. It's not wise to drive through the countryside too late.

As this was unplanned we left James at the shopping centre and headed off, first to collect fishing stuff for the back of the van - we were going fishing on a fishing trip should we get stopped and then to find diesel. This took longer than expected. The petrol station being out, the first bootlegger also didn't have any so we went on to another who did, with a tanker in the forecourt being loaded / unloaded.

Moving out we headed north west along the main road towards Zambia. Mike was a very good host - keeping us entertained with stories of his farm capture and life in Zimbabwe now. The strange; how the head of the Anglican church, who was a Mugabe supporter, had been 'removed' from office and the successor had to hold services on the street outside the church as he wasn't allowed in - to the downright disgusting; the agricultural minister who went up in a helicopter to do the annual crop yield survey - declaring it to be 2.2 million tonnes. At its peak it was only 1.7 million tonnes or so and since then with the white farmers kicked off their land it had mainly become fallow. In fact on TV there was an advert stating that 2007/8 was the 'Mother of all Seasons'. Strange most of the fields we passed were bare.



On the way to Karoi we passed through absolutely stunning countryside - which used to be the bread basket of Africa but now visibly wasting away. It is a real shame to see what Mugabe and his cronies have done to once proud successful community after community. About half way we stopped at a cafe in Mugabe's home town where another ex-farmer had set up a road side cafe. Though many attempts had been made to make him leave he still stayed as a lone voice against the oppression. When he found an ally in the local police chief, they were transfered. I know I live in a very safe little bubble but it is so good to see that giving up is not an option in their struggle and no matter what physical or mental duress is applied they get back up and continue their fight. As a parting gift he gave us each a homemade chicken pasty - best chicken pasty ever - crispy pastry, juicy and perfectly peppery.

Karoi is hardly a large town - but that's not really a surpise given Zimbabwe's small population of only 9 million ish. A main street with the usual shops - bakers, newsagent, electrical, mobile phones... and a couple of roads leading off to other nearby villages. We turned down one of these passing the Zanu PF headquarters - located in the towns' hotel, and to the doctors surgery. Mike went in to see if we could film inside and we were left alone in the car in a strange, possibly volatile and dangerous place. Next to the surgery was a 'department' store, with little in the shuttered windows but still a large queue waiting out side. Every so often as someone came out another went in. The bizzare thing being that they came out with nonsensical goods. A man with a pair of ladies flip flops and another with a couple of belts. Either these where things that they really needed or they where the only things in the shop available and they were buying them to barter with. I guess as hard currency was depreciating so quickly actual goods would hold their value and the smallest thing would be an investment against inflation.



Mike came out having seen the doctor and paid him for treating the injured people. They had now been taken to the police station to make statements so it looked like a wasted trip. Mike called the local MDC politition, 'Biggee' or 'Big E', and arranged to meet us at local restaurant. Mike dropped us off and we ordered cokes while waiting. I think we all then wondered what the heck was going on. Three white blokes in the small town where an opposition supporter had been killed, sat the garden of a restaurant over looking the main road in plain view of everyone. It wasn't the best place to conduct interviews let alone be seen talking with people who had been beaten up. It just wasn't going to happen. Mad may be, but not stupid.

Arriving back with the men and woman from the police station and we outlined our safety concerns for all involved. The penny must have dropped and after a quick discussion with Biggee they would now take us to the old farmers club. As the name suggests this is where the farmers came to socialise, relax and have a good time. It used to be Mike's local and had now fallen into disrepair now it had been abandoned. You really could imagine it with kids tearing around over the lawns, a bbq out back with farmers and their families enjoying Sunday afternoon's while moaning about whatever farmers moan about. At least they would have been happy. It's only recent use was as a polling station and in between times just left to rot.

After ten minutes nervously waiting Mike turned up with the locals and they told us what had happened. Why, because they didn't vote for Mugabe and as they were known to be supporting the opposition, they where forced out of their homes and beaten up. Dark skin doesn't show bruising very well though it was obvious on closer inspection. The three men and the one woman infornt of us had all been brutaly attcaked, very recently. One way we were told to hide the bruising further, is to roll the person in a blanket and then beat them with an iron bar - that way just the ribs are broken, or hit the buttocks for massive bruising, even attacking soles of the feet. So many ways to inflict pain and suffering. We drove home in relative silence as darkness fell - watching for bandits.

We passed through a total of 7 check points apparently. I must admit I didn't give them much warrant or count them. Mike was very polite to the policeman - talking to them in Zimbabwean and only once or twice did they look in the boot at the fishing stuff. It was Stuart who voiced a little more concern when we got back. I guess thats the difference with being a wanted man.

The next day we put together their story together with our walk around Harare:

Still No Result....

Randall & Hopkirk came round as usual to have a quick drink and chat, see what we had been doing, try to sell us their stuff. One night Hopkirk started to tell us about the day he was picked up by the by the Central Intelligence Organisation (Mugabe's official thugs). He was filming outside a shopping mall and was questioned about what he was doing and who it was for. He answered truthfully as he was allowed to do what he was doing as an official member of the media. This wasn't good enough as he was obviously lying and was taken down to their headquarters to be questioned. Here it was a constant back and forth - 'your lying' - 'no I'm not', telling the same story repeatedly. His questioner phoned his office to get confirmation. As it was late only a young receptionist was still there. She had to confirm what Hopkirk had been doing personally by answering a question. Depending on her answer it would affect Hopkirks fate - she was told this too as part of the intimadation... All the time as the hours passed being threatened with physical violence on one hand, threatening Hopkirks family, and the same interogating officer calling Hopkirk his 'friend' on the other. Dragged up to see a senior officer who quickly dismissed the whole affair it didn't stopn and the man still abused Hopkirk who was getting a little desperate and resigned to that fact he would be going to prison. Finally he was let go - but very scared none the less.

Talking about how we would get out slowly took up even more of our time the longer we stayed trying to weigh the pro's and con's. Stuart asked the desk to to get in touch with Jim Secret Squirrel so we could ask his advice. Jim used to be in the SAS, left and started to work as a cameraman - specialising in dangerous places, but recently due to declining numbers has gone back to the squadron whilst still being able to freelance on the side. A strange situation. Stuart had worked with him before and just wanted to see what our best options were. These ranged from bribing a border crossing, flying out from a private airstrip, crossing the Zambezi or trekking through the jungle and turning up somewhere else. We always seemed to come back to crossing to Zambia via the Zambezi somewhere, going to Livingstone or Lusaka and flying home from there. It was Nick's and my favorite route, as we wanted to do some fishing...see some wildlife... its such a beautiful country why give up the chance. Whatever we decided it was the details that started to bother us - how do we get to the border through the road blocks - private car or on a tourist bus, how do we cross the river - what happens in new country getting entry visa's so we can leave without being deported back to Zimbabwe.... who do we trust in organising this..... all questions that took up a fair bit of our thoughts.



Before we actually got to talk to Jim his involvement got a little deeper as the company took our risk really quite seriously and engaged his 'other' professional services to help advise / extract Emma & Garwin from Bulawayo as well as ourselves from Harare.

This is also where our paranoia started to climb a bit higher - especially with phone calls. We know that governments have access to the phone companies records - especially if they are government owned. This means they can locate incoming and outgoing calls. Either this was totally over looked or we happened to be in an area where overseas phone calls were so common it didn't stand out. Having a Bgan bacame indispensable. And my love of the internet confirmed again providing another essential - Skype. This worked supremely well - not only for normal Skype calls, but for calling a regular phone. The call being clear and not mysteriously hanging up or possibly being listened too. The 'piece de resistance' buying a London phone number so anyone could call us too!! Amazing, worked a real treat and safe. It would be very unlikely they could monitor call through the Bgan and Skype encoded as well. Talking to Jim helped shape our plans and just calm us down a bit - which was sorely needed.

Through our discussion with Mike and other ex-farmers, all MDC people, they told us that they had proof that they had more votes than Mugabe and had won. This was great stuff and after checking they agreed to show us what they had and how they had done it. We would also get to interview one of the MDC senior leadership. All arranged James dropped Nick and I off at the meeting point - I was wearing the button camera again. He then went back to collect Stuart and the other kit. Meanwhile we met up with Mike and waited for Stuart to come back. Once in Mike's car, James stayed put and we headed across town to a secret location where the results were being collated.

On election day individual teams were sent each polling station to independently note the results down once they had been published. Counting was done there and then and then posted for all to see. This info was then texted in, the data collated on a pc. Basically real-time processing, very similar process to how political parties or the media does it. Photos were also taken of the posted results with disposable cameras to combat later possible fraud. With thousands of polling stations involved quite a feat but it worked. Margins of error were built so this gave the MDC a fairly accurate and complete picture of the results. What became apparent to us was that this was very well organised, hard to dispute, and showed that Mugabe had not won - not even close. This was big - no-one had yet been shown this detail. We now had to be very careful how to present it so as to reamain impartial. Stuart on that front - nailed it.

Because of Mugabe's hatred for the west, even though there are white Zimbabweans in the MDC they can not be seen publicly or Mugabe will say that the MDC is being run by the British Government...... a complete load of tosh - they just want their country back as it was. These guy were very capable on many fronts (like all Zimbabweans: white, grey and black) and were happy to provide the much needed transport and safety to help get us out when we needed.

That night we decided the piece would be best run on Monday - it would be wasted over the weekend. Once Mugabe and officials had seen our package they would definitely not be happy with us 'calling' the election and would quite probably have a concerted effort to find us. We would need to be safe early Monday morning so the package would go out. Various phone calls followed to put cogs in motion.

On Saturday morning I woke up to find Stuart in an especially chipper mood and despite our apparent conversation the night before saying he wanted to stay a bit longer to see what happened. A bit perturbing as nothing had changed. Later that morning, leaving Stuart at the house, Nick & I went shopping to get food and supplies for the next couple of days. First we met up with Mike to get a tape he had shot for us of some more MDC supporters in hospital that had been beaten up. Whilst waiting I had a glorious steak pie that was truely gorgeous. Despite whatever else is happening the quality of meat is fantastic. It was so good with my constant lip smacking Nick eventually had to have one as well. After that we went to a local supermarket to stock up. It was quite busy and had most staples as well as all important booze. The selection wasn't huge but there is still is stuff to buy, its just the cost so those who have access to foreign currency are the ones who can. They are protected from the obscene inflation rate at 165,000%. Its the rest of the population who are in big trouble. We collected what we needed for dinner that night plus a bottle of Gin, some beer and water ready for our trip to the border. This came to a grand total of Z$6.3 billion. Unsurprisingly most people were paying by cheque. Not having that luxury Nick got out his plastic bag and handed over wad after wad of notes. These were put through an electronic counter just to make sure all was correct. We left carrying two shopping bags each. By the time we got back to the house Stuart's mood was a little different - being left alone 'that time of day' had come around as paranoia had set in again. Agreed it was definitely time to leave.

That night the mood was a bit subdued as it was a crucial time. First thing in the morning Emma & Garwen would be trying their exit plan. Emma refusing to die her hair - even though we knew the police were looking for a white blond female and they were also planning to cross at a regular border point didn't make it any easier on us. Depending on what happened to them would shape what we did next. Going to sleep wasn't a problem, having a restful sleep was. For the first time I was up earliest and spent a while wondering round aimlessly. A call to Dan in Jo-burg allayed our fears - thankfully they made it through - not without a little drama of their own - Garwen may be an excellent cameraman - just doesn't do so well on forging visa's!!



The rest of Sunday was spent cutting our package. Getting ready to feed we had a power cut. The little portable generator didn't have much fuel in it and despite previous assurances that there was a full jerry can, there wasn't. Once down to 50% battery power and now dark we turned it on making sure both the laptop and Bgan were being powered. The generator was connected to a separate 'always on' circuit in the house - two sockets and 6 light bulbs - I guess to make sure it wasn't overloaded. Before we started the generator to save power we took out what light bulbs we didn't need and finished feeding. The battery life probably being enough but not wanting to take the chance.

All finished and done we were packed up very quickly and paced around liked caged animals waiting for the off. We would leave after dark - once the staff had gone to bed so as not to wake them. With no notice to anyone so they didn't know we were leaving, who with, where we had gone or when.

This is our final report which had special instructions for London (which were strangely disputed or contested) to only be broadcast after 6.00am UK time - NOT before. By then if everything went to plan we should have been out of immediate harms way and safe. (There is a short advert first)

The Long Way Home

The door bell rang at about 8.00pm. This should have been Mike to take us to his house. The power was still out so the intercom didn't work. I went out to the gate and checked who it was through a crack in the door. Not being able to work out who I bobbed up and down trying to get a glimpse over the top of the gate. Thankfully it was Mike, we still couldn't take and chances. I unlocked the gate and rolled it open letting him in and then slid it shut and re-locked it as he drove in. Even though we were ready to head out there and then wasted some time just to make sure that the staff were properly settled again in case Mikes arrival had disturbed them. Unusually for us we did this by having a beer. It was really quite important that they didn't know we had left until they got up in the morning.

Making sure there were envelopes for both Micky and Sisser we closed the front door, said bye to Bubbles and left. Driving to Mikes was nerve wracking, as we were now out of our comfort zone and into a new different and potentially risky phase. Harare streets are very quiet after dark and it was be unlikely that we would be stopped on the 15 min journey. Still that didn't stop the paranoia rising again and heartfelt relief when we finally drove into Mike house. The plan was really very simple - get up early drive from Harare up to the Zambezi, cross the river by boat to somewhere yet to be confirmed. Get picked there up by Jim Squirrel, then sort out our visa's and fly out.

Sat outside on the veranda Mike and his wife looked after us very well with drinks and little snacks, and told us about their life in Zim both before and after things got bad. It made me feel sad for all the people who had been displaced, harmed unnecessarily - though very heartwarming to hear that others were still around and willing to fight for what is right. Somewhere in between all this we had a fantastic roast dinner which really hit the spot. Though it had been a long day the adrenaline had kicked in, even knowing that the tomorrow would possibly be just as tiring it still wasn't until about 1.00am that we went to bed.

I'm not sure what woke me up first the alarm going off at 3.00am or cars arriving in the drive ready to be in our convoy. It had been decided, not by us, that the we should each travel in our own car and to be safe make sure that we were at Karoi by 6.00am as that's when the road blocks generally got set up. One thing we had to was to decide on the equipment - what to leave and what to take with us. We had to make sure that we looked like tourists - just in case we were stopped so the only things we had were a still camera and the little video camera. Everything else - mics / computers / Bgan had been packed up ready to be left until they could be picked up at a later date. I don't know how but as part of the travel arrangements one the farmers wives was going to Zambia with her boys too - as it was half-term and she would take the equipment. When she turned up it was in a covered pickup. She had three boys with her - aged from 6 to 12 or so as well as the mother in law. One of the boys was on the back seat and two on the flatbed. I was a bit taken back and did say that it wasn't necessary to take it as if caught it wouldn't be good - a couple of times. The answer was "of course I'm going to take it - no ones going to stop a woman with three kids". The bags were backed under the mattress in the back and off they went. I wasn't particularly happy about it but there was NO arguing!

Stocked up with freshly cooked bacon and rolls courtesy of Mike's wife we set off at about 3.30am. Stuart was in the lead car with Mike and Andy - towing a speed boat, just to add to the rouse that we were going fishing trip. Nick followed with Bruce and I brought up the rear with Booty.

We drove for about 2 1/5 hours not passing much in the way of traffic - the odd lorry here and there but in the whole it was generally quiet. Booty and I chatted along the way about life, love and the world.... quite bizarre given that we were strangers but it was a very rounded conversation. Born in Zimbabwe he came from a generation of cattle farmers and all he wanted to do was farm cattle. Like everyone else they had been kicked off their land. Mugabe was not living up to his promises - even to the 'new' farmers and the whole place was going to rack and ruin. It was once the bread basket of Africa and now provides merely crumbs. For Booty to reestablish a herd is not as easy as growing crops and for it to become self sustaining and have the ability to grow in size takes around seven years before you can even start selling getting a reasonable turnover. That's a long time, proper planning and investment is needed so the whole country can get back on its feet - it will take longer than that. We can only hope that things do change. No matter what happened he would never leave - Zimbabwe was his country - his home.

We stopped at Karoi at 6.00am for breakfast. Yet again the chicken pies came out - absolutely stunning and washed down with a really good flask of coffee. There I decided that if ever I get the chance I will come back and do this again properly - with these guys - but with out the stress.

Next stop was the 'escarpment'. This was the edge of the Zambezi river valley where we could see Zambian hills in the background and feel freedom again. A really beautiful sight as the sun rose and burnt off the low lying mist from the valley floor. We met up with the pickup here and got the kit back - safe and sound as promised. The bacon and rolls were broken out too. what a great place to have our second breakfast. This was more like it - really going on a fishing trip. It was only then that I felt we had really come out of harms way. And by co-incidence our package would have been running for the first time.



We then drove down into the valley and after 20 mins or so headed off down a dirt track through the bush towards the river and the fishing camp. Booty pointed out the baobab trees that had been scored by elephants with an itch and explained how the fighting in the dense bush either side of the road was a complete nightmare in days past.



It was 10.00am when we finally stopped. The fishing camp was a collection of basic structures with a dining area, wash facilities and some bunks up in the rafters. Basic but obviously did the job. It was felt good to exchange paranoia for a relaxing beer! Having been up since 3.00am it didn't matter what the actual time was - it was cold wet and very very enjoyable in the good company of our chaperone's. Thankfully Jim wasn't anywhere close so we didn't have to get up and go anywhere soon, just had the time to mellow for a while. Another change was being able to take photo's without any risk of them being found.



At last a picture of Nick - the one with the beard - not at all a spy I hear you cry - just a cool dude!!



The toilet was shared with a couple of frogs. Presumably because the taps were cool.



Back on the deck with more beer flowing you can really see how much more relaxed we now were. Stuart still trying to get hold of Jim to work out where he was and our plan for the next few hours.



As it turned out we had a good few hours until Jim would arrive so we had time before lunch for a quick spin on the river. Once the boat we had brought up had been launched we headed out with Andy for a quick touch of wildlife spotting.



It wasn't hard as there were loads of hippos around.



Do you see those hills in the background - that's Zambia - just have to get past these damn Hippos!



'What you think you're getting past me - never.'



No matter how much you think you live in the a modern world it never ceases to amaze me how much people use what they have to hand when they have to. This fisherman is is his dugout canoe - used to be a tree.



I'm sure this is what Stuart looks like first thing in the morning. Quite a good look.



On our way round we caught up with the guys who were already at the camp. They had gone out earlier and had pulled up on the shore for a quick break.



This basically involved drinking - it was noon when we found them and they were well on the way to being absolutely plastered.



Father and son with their respective catches. There were mean teeth on that fish. Definitely not a vegetarian. The two boys out fishing as well seemed to have another simple job. Whenever anyone had an empty bottle in their hand it was replaced with a full one. They did it well.



Most of the conversation was based around how messed up Zimbabwe was or which Sky weather girl they fancied the most!! Don't necessarily agree with them about which one...



Caught napping in the mid-day sun!



Despite having crocs in the river I knew I was safe going for a pee. I had my hat on.



Just a good looking tree.



This was my job - to replenish Stuart & Nick. Stuart does look worried - it was the last of the beer.



Eventually we found a small herd of elephants wandering along the banks of the river.



Absolutely stunning creatures. They did raise their ears and make a move towards us to warn us away. Thankfully we weren't beached in the shallow water for long and were able to carry on.



Somehow I think one of us had seen elephants in the wild before.



Just to prove that there were crocodiles in the river as we passed this one it quickly sneaked back into the river. Can't see it?



The grey-ish brown lump in the water are its eyes just to the left are the nostrils. Horrible nasty evil creatures. Having escaped becoming lunch we made our way back to camp - starving.