Mark and I are up at 5 for breakfast - we thought it
was a 6:00 departure, but it's not, it's a 6:00 breakfast, so we hang around
and watch the sun come up. By 7:30 we're off, driving east towards the
Mozambique border.
We reach the border at Mandimba at about 8:00. There is a bit of a kerfuffle at the border caused by the usual problem that Ken has with his passport, namely that it fills up with stamps so quickly he keeps having to get a new one, which necessitates sending it off to South Africa. He is hoping to get dual Malawian citizenship soon which may relieve the problem.
The road into Mozambique is an insignificant left turn just after the Malawian border post - it would be very easy, having emigrated from Malawi, to just keep driving and end up back at Liwonde. I'm not quite sure what would happen to someone completing the circle and trying to emigrate again - just more stamps in the passport probably.
We have a long day's drive today, and we're not quite sure where we will be spending the night - we are heading for Nampula, but the road from Mandimba is unpaved pretty well all the way to the coast, and it quickly becomes clear that we are not going to get to Nampula before dark.
We stop off at Cuamba for a coke and a sandwich. This is a fairly decent sized town, and staying here overnight is an option, but we decide to push on and see where we get to. It's remarkable what you see while driving across Africa - the edifice in the photo below is in the middle of nowhere and apparently a grain store (according to Mark).
We need to find somewhere before dark, and about five we come across a cluster of deserted buildings on a flat ground. It turns out to be the local church, but Ken reckons there's no problem camping there, so we pitch the tents in double-quick time, light a fire, and Face cooks us some mince, rice and spuds (I get spud-bashing detail). Ken and I break open my duty-free single malt, and we sit around the fire and chat. I just about manage to persuade Ken to leave some scotch for another night, and we crawl into our tents. Last year, when we camped in the Kalahari, Ken had brought lovely thick mattresses and I slept wonderfully. This year, presumably for reasons of space, he has brought thinner ones. I know they say size doesn't matter, but in this case half an inch makes an enormous difference and I sleep badly and wake up with backache. The joys of camping!
We reach the border at Mandimba at about 8:00. There is a bit of a kerfuffle at the border caused by the usual problem that Ken has with his passport, namely that it fills up with stamps so quickly he keeps having to get a new one, which necessitates sending it off to South Africa. He is hoping to get dual Malawian citizenship soon which may relieve the problem.
The road into Mozambique is an insignificant left turn just after the Malawian border post - it would be very easy, having emigrated from Malawi, to just keep driving and end up back at Liwonde. I'm not quite sure what would happen to someone completing the circle and trying to emigrate again - just more stamps in the passport probably.
We have a long day's drive today, and we're not quite sure where we will be spending the night - we are heading for Nampula, but the road from Mandimba is unpaved pretty well all the way to the coast, and it quickly becomes clear that we are not going to get to Nampula before dark.
We stop off at Cuamba for a coke and a sandwich. This is a fairly decent sized town, and staying here overnight is an option, but we decide to push on and see where we get to. It's remarkable what you see while driving across Africa - the edifice in the photo below is in the middle of nowhere and apparently a grain store (according to Mark).
We need to find somewhere before dark, and about five we come across a cluster of deserted buildings on a flat ground. It turns out to be the local church, but Ken reckons there's no problem camping there, so we pitch the tents in double-quick time, light a fire, and Face cooks us some mince, rice and spuds (I get spud-bashing detail). Ken and I break open my duty-free single malt, and we sit around the fire and chat. I just about manage to persuade Ken to leave some scotch for another night, and we crawl into our tents. Last year, when we camped in the Kalahari, Ken had brought lovely thick mattresses and I slept wonderfully. This year, presumably for reasons of space, he has brought thinner ones. I know they say size doesn't matter, but in this case half an inch makes an enormous difference and I sleep badly and wake up with backache. The joys of camping!
