Day 305 / 70

Date: 11 February 2023
Sleeping location: Scrubland 18.3216S 32.6892E, Zimbabwe
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 63 / 18822 / 3985
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 1100 / 162900 / 44900
Rain and dirt: pain and hurt
Day in three words: Heaven and hell 

For breakfast I had local coffee with some more bits from the tearoom. I was glad I got to put some money back in to the farm given how generous Debbie had been, especially as in the morning she also gave me a few dollars’ worth of “bonds”. This is the Zimbabwean dollar, a currency which in theory can be used to buy anything, but in practice usually can’t because there are around 900 to the USD and they only come in denominations of 100, 50 and 20, so anything of value requires a massive stack of notes. They can be used as small change in USD purchases, but the rate per USD appears to be randomly anything between 800 and 1,000, depending on who you’re getting them from or giving them to. The whole thing is extremely confusing.

Debbie suggested a short cut back to the main road and led me off on her quad bike, which was fun, but this route ended up being a small footpath with a fence to hoick Maggie over. This was possibly not any quicker than the main route, but it was at least an adventure and she came with me on foot to make sure I got to the right place. We said goodbye, or so I thought, but then a few km down the road she pulled up in her car to give me a small plastic insert that had fallen off my pannier. What a lovely lady.

I climbed, first on road then off it on a dirt track up over moorland and sparse trees with very Scottish vibes. The going was slow but beautiful, quiet and atmospheric, but my cleat fell off again, because of course it fucking did. Eventually I got up to World's View at 2160m, a very nice spot at the edge of the escarpment with gardens, a small stone tower and beautiful craggy cliffs falling down to the plain 500m+ below. I had been worried about cloud cover but it was high enough that there was a very good, if still partial, view. After I'd seen the view I was asked for the (legitimate) entry fee of $3 - the man said he always made sure people got the view before charging them, which is nice of them.* I asked if I could pay $2 as the view was only 2/3 free of cloud. The same guy then recommended a hike up to an extra peak with an extra good view and some fun rock scrambling. Up here I bumped into a few British girls who live in Harare, including one called Hannah who’s also from Yorkshire (Beverly, to be exact), knows Selby and tried to think of a nice way to say that it's shit. I got her phone number to potentially meet them in Harare when I go.

Then I went back down to the main road on a fun technical dirt descent, and near the bottom came round a corner to be confronted with a pristine golf course, where I screeched to a halt open mouthed and said aloud "where the fuck am I??" This is a world away from the hot savannah of the last week or so. Back on the road there was another fun descent, a big fast sweeping one with a beautiful view down over Nyanga. Around Nyanga I hit heavy rain, which got heavier and heavier with a strong wind pushing it into my face. I quickly got soaked to the skin, then the bone, then the soul. Unsure of what to do, I saw a sign for Nyamgombe Falls, which I had considered visiting, and abruptly took the turn. This took me onto a dirt road that at this point was more like a stream with some big wadey sections. I paid my $10 entry fee at the NP gate and continued on the track down to the falls, which was more of the same but with the addition in places of the slippery/sticky mud that caused me so much trouble in Tanzania. Thankfully by now the rain had cleared and the sun was in and out. The falls, boosted by the rain I guess, were very impressive, but I didn't linger long as Maggie was being left unattended in the car park. 

From here onwards the day was an total disaster.

The dirt track back out to the main road was initially OK but soon turned into a nightmare. The rain (presumably over years, but that day’s rain can’t have helped) had washed out 2ft deep gulleys in the road and I had to bump or drag Maggie up and over them, which required a mixture of brute force and extremely careful balancing. Halfway up here I met a guy and asked what it was like ahead; he summed it up neatly with "it's fucked up." He did then concede that it was equally fucked up back the other way and said the tarmac "wasn't far". Perhaps not in distance, but it definitely was in effort and pain. The gulleys were joined by another Tanzania style mud bath which immediately jammed up poor Mags once more. It was impossible to ride and somewhere between difficult and excruciating to push. This section was almost all a steep uphill and I was pushing all the way, but frequently just slipping my feet uselessly in the mud. 

When I finally reached the tarmac again I had done 9km in 2hrs and my whole body was exhausted. I had planned to now take the dirt road across the national park, but this ordeal suggested that 40km of unknown dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, in mountainous terrain, in this weather, could be anything between ok and outright dangerous. I decided to stick to the main road. I needed some water if I was going to wild camp, and wanted a hot chocolate or something as I was still soaked, so I backtracked slightly to go to the Rhodes Museum/Hotel and the “natural swimming pool”. The Rhodes hotel and cafe was closed but they didn't think to put a sign out, the bastards, so I went a few km out of my way for nothing. I was pondering my options here when the rain came in again, so I spent $3 on the Rhodes museum in order to do something whilst waiting for the rain to stop. It was a bit of a confusing jumble and I was cold and wet and found it hard to concentrate.** 

The rain didn't stop but I had to get out to find somewhere to camp and pick up some water. I went to the pools in a stress but they weren't that nice in the rain and then the toilets didn't have any running water, so I had to fill up from raging river edge instead. Leaving here I was short of daylight and Maggie’s chain was jamming frequently and aggressively. (Whilst dashing around this area I did see a waterbuck, a big black and white eagle and some baboons, so I guess it wasn't entirely wasted time.) Tensions were running very high and I shuffled/grumbled/swore my way up 5km of climb to a turnoff, then a little way down there I found a spot which was imperfect but quiet and mostly hidden (and it was almost dark anyway). The rain was on and off but was never too hard, so I got snuggled up, had a couple of calming swigs of (Cardinal) Richelieu then cooked some pasta and cheese from the safety of my bed. Tomorrow is a better day, tomorrow is a better day…

*And he was true to his word as a few days later Sarah from Cape Maclear visited , saw nothing and didn’t ave to pay.

**I did note that it ignored many of the spicier bits of his life: for example, that he was in essence a white supremacist, that he took land and the vote away from the majority of the black population, that he was forced to resign after an unauthorised attack on the Transvaal…