Zambia (Again)

23rd October 2004 (cont.)

….We queue up with the articulated lorries waiting on the shores of the Zambezi to cross over on the pontoon into Zambia. We manage to get on the second pontoon and get a bollocking by the pontoon man when we leave the floating vessel too early. Things go down hill from then. The lady in the pontoon payment office is the same one from three months ago and has once again got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. The police are fine. When we get to immigration and ask for the visa waiver letter sent from Foleys they quiz us on where we are staying and that Foleys cannot send these letters and we must each pay the 65 USD visa cost, which we don’t have. We are now stuck between two countries. After failing to call Foleys on a local mobile, I organise for a local man to help us out with the visa costs and we will drive him to Livingstone for a bank and repay his ‘loan’ with interest. Luckily I decide to go back to the immigration office and manage to talk to a different official who finds the letter from a backpackers in town and not from Foleys. We blag it and blame the confusion on communication issues, managing to get into the country – phew. I then remember the issues Ranger and I had when we got stopped 3kms up the road from the border by a random policeman asking for proof of car insurance. As we cautiously drive the 3kms up to the t-junction, Craig searches the bushes ahead with binoculars for any sign of policemen. There are non – phew, again! But then, when we think we are home and dry I spy a traffic cone in the middle of the road and fear the worst. Luckily the policeman is busy with another offender so I blast through the checkpoint giving only an innocent wave – phew, for the third time! We enter Livingstone and stop for a few photos under the Livingstone sign, symbolising the end of my six-month trip through Africa; pretty gutting to say the least. We head straight for Foley HQ (Brian’s house where Ranger and I stayed last time) to run through the vehicle but they are all up in Lusaka where Craig will drive the car tomorrow. We check in at the Fawlty Towers backpackers and after a shower immediately get down to clearing out the vehicle. I hadn’t realised how much stuff we hadn’t used and most I gave to the local men in the car park digging a 30m well by hand; the smiles on their faces was worth every penny; the largest coming the man who got the pitching wedge! After another quick shower we race into town to get some beers and drive to Vic Falls for sundowners. Luckily the ticket office were really relaxed and weren’t going to the close the gates at 6pm as it read on the board. I could not believe how different the Falls looked compared to two months ago when the river was a lot fuller. After sunset we head into town to the Pub & Grill looking forward to a hearty mixed grill but when I return from the toilet, rip my shirt on the door lock, then hit my head on the door, followed by a power cut and candles being brought out, we decide to leave. A delicious seafood dinner was enjoyed at Ocean Basket opposite the backpackers where we join two SA lads for after-dinner beers. The night is yet young so after a few games of pool we continue the comp over the road at the local nightclub, leaving all footwear behind and going barefoot. On leaving the club in the early hours one can imagine we were both pretty well oiled. As we were attempting to navigate a large ditch in the middle of the road, I warn Craig of the danger ahead. This resulted in him crossing the obstacle successfully and me sliding into the bottom and ripping half my left foot off. After bathing the wound in the backpacker’s swimming pool and pouring half a bottle of Dettol over it, we crawl into the tent.

24th October 2004

D-day. Craig leaves for Lusaka to deliver the Landrover back to Foleys. I painfully watch as the vehicle, which has carried me over 40,000kms, through 19 countries, has guzzled 4492 litres of diesel and has performed like a dream, is driven down the street and out of sight, forever. I dump my things and limp into town for some cash and breakfast. At midday I catch a taxi with a rather tearful girl (hopefully not because she had to share a cab with me) to Livingstone airport. Boarding the 737 to Jo’burg felt extremely odd after being completely independent behind the wheel for six months…..

Distance travelled since London : 40,040 kms (excl. ferry crossings!)

THE END

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