Stage 3, part I: Zambia "Supporting The Cyclists: The View From The Truck In The Rear"

A further eight cyclists joined Beyond the Bike in Livingstone, with another support driver - Jo Mackay -  who runs Beyond Ourselves operations in Zambia. This stage of the ride was sponsored by Copperbelt Energy, who had generously bought the Zambikes. The bikes were assembled in Lusaka by an interesting US-Zambian social enterprise that we would donate to the Beyond Ourselves schools in the Copperbelt at the end of the ride. Perhaps the perfect "big society" model for David Cameron back home? A corporation working with a social enterprise to help their needy community with the assistance of volunteers...

                  
Livingstone to Lusaka, 9th August- 13th August

Distance: 475 kms
Punctures: four (all on Zambikes. Still none on Thandie!)
see photos in gallery or on facebook
 

Rolling out of the comfortable Jollyboys Backpackers in Livingstone took a lot of faffing and it will forever

be the role of the support truck to herd the cats out of the gate but once we hit the road we made good

progress with decent tarmac with a wide shoulder. Our newly acquired Zambikes would require some

running in so although our Zambikes mechanic, Danny, left us at Jollyboys but decided it would be best to

accompany us for the next few days, so hopped off his bus in the middle of nowhere to rejoin the tour.  Danny

did a mean line in derailleur adjustments making sure everyone would hit all six gears, whilst cycling the

spare bike, wearing flip-flops and putting our "professional" cycling gear to shame.  Jo, our tour mother,

was fretting about the morality of our evening's destination.  The Kalomo Hotel had seen better days and the

bar next door had an undeserved reputation as a den of sin.  It turned out to be more of a den of UEFA as the

locals watched Germany play - plus beers at 5,000K per head meant that our evening meal passed pleasantly and

safely fuelled by brazier-cooked chicken and rice.

The next day's pull to Choma saw Humesy pick up a puncture before leaving the outskirts of the town shedding

doubt on his accusation that fellow cyclist Fi could "get a puncture on a bouncy castle". This necessitated

the ride of shame in the backup truck with Jenks until it could be repaired at the next rest stop.  Our

accommodation in Chomas was at Kozo Lodge, where the cyclists sunbathed outside rondavels and left their

laundry to dry in the sun.  Unbeknownst to the majority, a medical subculture was consuming gin in their

secret seedy underworld.  This led to what will forever be known as "Top Gun Evening" where US Navy Pilot

Goose (aviator shades and dodgy 'tasche) posed with "Meg Ryan" (who shall remain anonymous) in the bar much

to the amusement of the barman and solitary local.

The following morning there were some sore heads before the long pull to Monze.  The cyclists "manned up" and

fought their hangover demons in private for the run through Choma (saying farewell to Danny at the bus

station) and made good progress. That afternoon we pulled into Moorings Campsite.  Here we

experienced incredible hospitality and generosity from Kim and James, farmers in Monze who ran this peaceful

campsite with a verandah and well stocked bar.  The girls took the chalets and the boys were given tents, no

hardship given the generous bedding that was provided to fend off the winter chills.  Dinner came from the

farmhouse and was a sturdy beef pie followed by a chocolate pudding with custard.  Needless to say their were

no concerns about offending our kind hosts by leaving food - all was thoroughly demolished with gusto.

An army marches on its stomach and the previous night's dinner was matched by a superb Full English -

bursting at the seams we rolled out past the farm gate thanking our hosts for their kind donation to Beyond

Ourselves.  The run up to Kafue was a real test of the group with some serious gradients to face.  Jo

nourished the troops with Energade and cereal bars, but  as we approached Mazabuka she warned that there was

a political rally underway and the town was rather "boisterous".  Adopting our "security formation" we rode

in a tight phalanx through the town, Jo leading with the Landcruiser and Jenks bringing up the rear with his

solitary amber beacon providing scant protection from marauding truckers.  It turned out that the rally had

passed and Mazabuka was peaceful and friendly, albeit with large vehicles negotiating its crowded streets

with some difficulty.

A rest on the far side of the town saw the cyclists prepare for their Nemesis - The Munali Pass, where a

nickel mine means that heavy road traffic struggles to climb the steep ascent through a narrow gap in the

Munali Hills.  AS we approached the pass, a truck had shed its load of cotton bales onto the highway and the

cyclists negotiated an obstacle course of cotton wool. Special mention must go to Jono Arscott, whose dodgy

knee had seen him cheerfully bringing up the rear for much of the ride, and who at this point really fought

to make the ascent.  However, slow and steady wins the race and the team rested at the top of the pass

overlooking the nikel mine contemplating the long run downhill to the Kafue Road.  The Zambikes do not

freewheel as happily as the tandem so this section saw Stuart and his stokers achieve high speeds while the

Zambikers tried to get as much value out of this downhill stretch as possible.  

As we crossed the Kafue River an ill-advised photo opportunity by Mr. Arscott led to remonstrations and mild

threats of arrest for espionage from the security officials guarding this important national installation.  

Needless to say we cannot provide any images of this noble structure in case we are asked to leave the

country.  We high-tailed it away from the bridge and arrived at the lodge, Jono celebrating with stunt riding

Evil Knievel-style that took out fellow cyclist Lydia, both landing in an undignified heap.

The Kafue River Motel was redolent of a Butlins but without the chavs.  We stayed in rooms Elephants 1

through 6 and enjoyed the music of Billy Joel, Whitney Houston and Celine Dion played at deafening volume

across the poolside.  The saddle-sore cyclists agreed that the most appropriate tune had to be Johnny Cash's

"Ring Of Fire" - the Chamois Butter having only partially alleviated their aching posteriors.

The following morning we tried to fuel up on dry toast and dubious jam, arguing with our hosts that man could

not cycle on one slice alone.  30km downhill were followed by a 10km climb much to the disappointment (and

mild whinging) of some of the group. As we approached Lusaka the traffic became heavier and more agressive -

our group cycled tighter together with Jo leading the way and Jenks shepherding the rear, braced for yet

another collision with deranged combi taxis.  The final stretch was almost the final straw - Makeni Road

(leading to our accommodation) was being resurfaced and was a dustbowl of heavy trucks and taxis vying for a

narrow strip of mud.  Blockie and stoker Annabel struggled with the craters, finding it difficult to

manouvere the length of the tandem over the potholes single-handed, yet the fleet of Zambikes plus tandem

rolled into The Lodge at Sunset Villas with a fresh coating of red mud.