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.

Freedom Lodge

Here's a map of the Zambezi around the camp site. I'm sure the island shapes had changed slightly since the photo was taken. We went about as far as the paw - where we saw the elephants and then whizzed back along the northern bank - tantalizing close to Zambia - passing kids playing and groups of women doing their shopping. On sight of us one set very happily stood up and waved - topless - a refreshing lift to the heart and soul.



By the time we landed the guys fishing had already landed and partially cleared out bottles from the boats... the boys were still clearing more cans and bottles from the floor of the boats.



Lunch consisted of eggs, bread, pork chops and sausages. All localy produced and cooked by one of the guys running the hut over a simple bbq type affair. Just the thing to help soak up a mornings alcohol, which given the circumstances wasn't such a bad thing. Fantastic weather, beautiful surroundings, and the prospect of being some where safe very shortly, still no matter how we felt I don't think we got really complacent - there was still the possibility of being found - unlikely but possible.

Here's Booty, who drove me up, having a quiet game of draughts, trying to ignore the drunken raucousness - and doing it very well. Don't think he won though.



Andy having his first beer of the day. He works as a hunter and a guide all over northern Zimbabwe and had the mickey taken out of him constantly for being the youngest. Its seems to be a rite of passage in southern Africa.



As the youngest - by far the quickest and fittest he was constantly on the end of a barrage of jokes as well as the one who was made to do all the hard work - lifting carrying, mucking out - it seemed endless in having to look after the old drunkards. Obviously was used to it, and took it all very well - didn't rise (which I probably would have done - never one for regiment) and even managed to get his own back now and again.

I do like this portrait of Mike. Completely natural and unfazed by what's going on around him. Here as much as anywhere else. As I said before he really is one member of the 'salt of the earth' gang. Despite in-ordinate odds still puts himself out there to stand up for those who can't - believes in justice and is not afraid to be counted.



An unsung hero and in reality far more powerful and influential than anyone would believe. And without him we wouldn't have been sitting there ready to cross the border.

Nick - genial cool, calm and unruffled. Watching on as lunch became an increasingly strange affair.



At one point it got quite disgusting with a some kaffa jokes coming out and the physical abuse of one of the huts staff who was cooking lunch. Stuart had gone off to see how Jim was getting on. I think very much of the same opinion, given the week we'd had, it would be more pleasant sitting in Zambia alone rather than in the company of drunk farmers - we needed to leave and soon. I have to point out that it wasn't any of the guys who brought us up - they were just as appalled as we were and definatley made an attempt to curb it. Thankfully this was broken up by news of our boat.

When we got off it Andy hadn't left it like this. Not sure what happened whether the rope was too tight and the river level changed slightly or the plug had come out - or not been put in.



Well and truly sunk. Just the task of re-floating it. Justly, I think this time, he did get a fair amount of stick.

Straight in action - despite the crocodile infested water Andy dives to have a look at the plug.



And comes up with the battery.



After a lot of bailing with everything to hand a rope was rigged up to help lift the back end to help drain the stern. We were supposed to be using this boat to take us across - not now.



Stuart had managed to get through to Secret Squirel Jim and he had arranged for a lodge just down the river to take us in - with out questions - like where we had come from. Well of course if asked we had that covered - we have were lost, passports got swept away in the river, didn't quite know where we were as we got separated from our group and merely needed a bed for the night before heading to Lusaka in the morning. The fact that we had all our other luggage never really entered our heads!

Knowing that every thing was going to plan - though Jim wouldn't be there to meet us we decided to make the crossing as it had been a long day and we chomping to get under way again.



So under a half moon (top left of the picture) we loaded all the bags into two boats and headed down stream again looking for the right jetty to land on.



I really love this photo - so it has been touched up a little - but it means so much and constantly reminds me of the great people there and also the emotions from fear, paranoia, exhilaration and relief that I went though.



We spotted the pier where Stuart and I passed over the bags with huge relief as we were dropped off first.
Just as we were landing Nicks boat seemed to loose power and started to drift off down river - lost and following the flow quickly back to Zimbabwe. First things first Stuart dashed up the bank to find reception and to check that we were actually at the right place. True to what we had been told, he came back having seen the woman on reception, who didn't ask any questions as to our identity or whereabouts but called someone to help with the bags. Guess she must have been though this before. Mike who was staying put just in case it was the wrong place - headed off to see where Nick had got to.

It really did seem like if the most innocuous thing could go wrong it would. Finally Mike returned with Nick having done a mid-river boat to boat transfer. The engine had run out of petrol and the guys driving it could find the reserve tank switch. By the time he was rescued Nick had floated half way back to the camp. Now we were all firmly on safe soil yet again we thanked our saviors for all their help, we wished them good luck in the fight to free Zimbabwe from Mugabe.



From the pontoon we headed straight up to reception, got our keys, as promised with no questions asked, dropped our bags off the relief coming over in waves. Having done that and making a few calls to say we were finally safe the only way to celebrate which in itself is a glorious setting was to have a large gin & tonic over looking the Zambezi as the sun set.



Followed by another one.. and some more chilling - not having to worry who was looking or following or listening or....



Then the exhaustion hit and we all became very silent. Time for a shower back at the room to remove all the grim and sweat from the days travel - and a 40 winks while waiting for dinner to start.



Lovely rooms, very basic but perfect in every detail - clean, tidy, and with a bed!!



Even after the snooze - still feeling absolutely knackered we ventured back down to the restaurant for dinner. Only to watch our Secret Squirrels via boat a mere 4 hours behind us. They had to leave their vehicles a few miles down river as the chain ferry to cross a tribuatary broken down. No matter it was really good to see friendly faces.



At dinner we met our secret squirrels - Jim the leader, Paul who knew right people in the right places and Johno who was very quiet - had local knowledge - being Zimbabwean. I was very quiet despite their best efforts to gee me up. The joke I made about next time calling the SBS didn't go down well either!! I'm sure I made it through to a night cap and after that off to bed - not forgetting the final final night cap on Stuarts balcony convienently situated next to mine.

The next morning completely revitalised I was the first one up - with bags packed and rearing to go for the drive to Livingstone about 7 hours or so in total.



As the pickups were down river we took the lodge's shuttle boat to the crossing point and started to load up.



I can see the usefulness of double cabs but they are really uncomfortable if you have to spend more than about 5 minutes in them. Stuck in the back we headed off. In the first few miles we came right up to a border crossing with Zimbabwe and Jim thankfully (and following the sat nav) made sure we turned the right way. From there for the next 10 miles or so we passed countless flatbeds loaded with mining machinery that was heading north. Big big stuff worth millions. That though would be a completely different story.

Because of the investment that was being made into the mines the roads, unlike Zim, were very good and going up to Lusaka progress was quick. Slowly the roads started to deteriate with pot holes becoming more and more frequent. I'm sure I must have been groaning about the discomfort being endured in the back as Jim offered to swap - which meant I would be driving.

I did get us there - not without the odd (planned) excursion onto the dirt at the side of the road and emergency braking and swerve for hidden caverns - when does a pot hole not be a pot hole any more? It was a fun drive none the less and the sat nav was excellent given where we were - even showing the river beds we crossed. The most disconcerting thing was the crack in the wind screen. I can see why they're not allowed - your depth perception goes so each eye has to focus differently. Must be easier if you only have one eye!

About 12 miles outside Livingstone as we headed over the last range of hills we saw the huge plumes of mist hanging over the falls. Absolutely stunning - they must have been a good couple of hundred meters high.

One of the things that Nick and I have wanted to do all along was to see some real wildlife on the way, girafe's, zebras and the like. Sadly it wasn't to be no matter how we planned the route out. So it was a bit disappointing but we were safe. Driving through Livingstone it was like any small town at closing time with residents rushing to do last minute shopping before they closed as the sunset. We turned into the hotel and almost ran into a giraffe and zebra as they casually meandered across the road. Getting over the oh my god factor - it still wasn't herds magestically sweeping through the savannah - but hey - we weren't paying for it either. The sun was quickly decending over the horizon as we came up to the hotel entrance (The Royal Livingstone) - convienently built so you looked through a colonial setting, across the manicured lawns to the river sweeping past on the way to the falls..... Out of that car so quickly, grabbed the camera, shouted that I'd be back for the bags so - all but sprinted down to watch another spectacular sunset.

Wet Wet Wet

Dinner was taken after drinks at the bar which was an archetypal affair. Exactly what you would imagine of a colonial hotel over looking something as outstanding Victoria Falls - a long bar stocked with the finest liqueurs from around the world served by bar men in crisp white uniforms whilst relaxing in deep leather chairs. Here we were joined by "Gordon" ( not his real name), a friend of Dan's who was the ex head of Zambian secret squirrels who would help us the next day to get our passports validated - namely to show we had entered legally and would be able to leave without any undue stress. Dinner, after the self cooked food in Harare was absolutely wonderful.

Breakfast was a glorious affair - sat on the patio over looking the lawns and river rushing by.



Our passports had gone off for their own little adventure with an over zealous Zambian offical who would do everything he could to help us we had some time to spare so given that the Falls were moments away it would have been remiss not to go and have a look. As I walked down with Nick, Stuart came jogging up, as he was out for one and suggested that shorts would be wise as we were likely to get a wet. Taking his sage advice I whipped back to the room, changed and wrapped the camera up in a couple of shower caps and put it back in its neoprene cover.

Here Stuart and I cross through the mist to get a better view.



Not really mist as it started out - more like a complete shower, fully clothed and drenched to the bone.



Walking around the falls it was spectacular - the scale of water tumbling over and it wasn't even the wet season yet. Mind blowingly awesome the beauty that nature provides us with.



I have to say thanks to Nick for the photos as two shower caps and a neoprene case weren't quite enough in the way of protection so keep my camera from getting wet and not working any more. Equally drowned as a rat and being electronic - it didn't go down to well. (About £130 to make the poor thing feel better).

Having changed into dry clothes, but still very wet and soggy boots as they were the only shoes I had we all headed for reception to wait the move to the airport. After much anxious tension at the hotel, knowing that our passports were in the hands of someone else - its never nice when they are taken off you, hoping we would be able to get today's flight they finally arrived. Loading the pickups in double quick time we headed for the airport and managed to check in safely.

OK so it wasn't much past 10 in the morning but having a beer was called for - suggested by Stuart perhaps - or was it Jim (I'm not sure). I won't quibble about who suggested it - we were waiting in departure lounge for the plane to be called and were on the last leg of the journey home!!

The tanoys went... "Can Mr Hooper, Mr Ramsay and Mr Ludlum please come to the information desk please". Oh my god was that us. It was. We got up with our passports and boarding cards and whilst Jim and Paul looked on with amusement we headed back through to the information desk. Waiting for us was an immigration officer. "Can I see your passports please?" As we handed them over he got out a huge ledger, compared the numbers in our passports and on the page. Made a couple of amendments and looked up. "There you go. All done. Have a safe flight". "Thank you" we said in unison, swiftly took the waiting passports from the counter and headed back to our beers. Hmmm very causious... making sure all the numbers tallied in the book - counting us in and back out again. The next swig of beer was very well received to calm my beating heart.

Sitting back as the throttles were put to maximum thrust we sped down the run way and took off. Yes we were free, on our way home. Finally. Well for a short time at least, as we then banked over the river and crossed back into Zimbabwean airspace!

This is the eventual route of our escape. Nothing compared to what many people have done in the past or will do in the future but it was, an adventure, and thankfully a good one too.



The rest as they say... is history.

Must Be Mad

For some reason I have agreed to do a 50 or 66 mile bike ride this weekend. I'm not why but it sounded like a good idea at the time.



Yesterday - 4 days before the event I went out with Kevin, Lisa & Dean - we cycled to Blandford and back - 40 miles or there about as our preparation. It was so nice to be out in the Dorset countryside - stunning really. At 25 miles my butt started to hurt and from 32 I was shattered. Afterwards I was feeling absolutely knackered and a bit dehydrated, today though - I am surprised I don't ache.

Not sure I'm going to be able to say the same on Monday.

Dreaming...

That the rest of the week stays like this.

My Stick

What could be better - stick, beach and sunshine to chew it in.....



... now leave me alone.