Old Legs Tour Angola 2024 – Days 5 & 6

Victoria Falls via Gokwe is 800km away from Harare, and the optimistic Captain Hopeful (aka Adam) had envisioned it as a swift six-day journey. On tar, maybe. But Gokwe is a different beast entirely, with thick sand and tough terrain. Eight hours of constant cycling can net you a measly 70-80km, and trying to cheat the system with vehicle uplifts is futile, as the average speed is a snail-paced 20km/h, and is far less comfortable.

Day five dawned with promise. Refreshed and ready, we emerged from our gorgeous thorn forest camp at the edge of the Charisa hunting area (still 35km short of Day 4’s target), eager to conquer the day.  Ant, miraculously recovering from his flu, was our beacon of hope. Nick, however, was succumbing to the bug.

Within 50 meters, the sand gods struck. Jaime led the first collapse in a heap of tangled bodies and bicycles and dust, setting the tone for the day. The next 10km was a crash course in sand riding (crash being the operative). If you thought the initial onslaught was bad, brace yourselves. The sand deepened, turning us into amateur sumo wrestlers on bikes. This is the training ground for Dakar Rally riders, folks, a fact which Adam has known all along. Jaime, the Captain’s Daughter, questioned her father’s sanity in choosing the route in the first place. His reply? “There is nothing Epic about a tar road.”

Riding in thick sand is horrible, but the upside is that the bush in this part of the country is unspoiled and undeniably beautiful. Dave and Ant, fresh to this sandy cycle, didn’t notice. Ant soon discovered that his enduro skills were no match for bike technique, and Dave’s smoothly-tarred Aussie road experience was swiftly challenged by the ever-changing African terrain.

Sand is like an evil gremlin, constantly stealing your momentum and leaving you quite literally stuck in a rut. You pedal and pedal, but like hamsters on a very sluggish wheel, you go nowhere fast. Steering is a nightmare; it’s like trying to wrangle a drunk sailor through an obstacle course. But hey, at least we got a workout and a few good laughs.

Nick’s genius shone through in the form of a novel sand-conquering technique:  lower the seat as far down as it will go, place your feet on the ground and stride along as if you are on one of those little black plastic motorbikes that our kids all had.

Linda found a magnificent riverside leadwood forest for our breakfast stop in the shade, such a treat. As we feasted, we stumbled upon evidence of some larger neighbours: elephant and hippo dung, fresh ele footprints, and even a hippo jawbone.  While the rest of us were exhausted from the morning’s ride, Keegan still had enough energy to fool around with his bike, riding along the trunk of a fallen leadwood tree and getting some great Instagram content.

The only thing worse than pedalling down to a sandy river bed, of course, is trying to pedal back up. The ground and gravity all conspire to suck out every last bit of remaining energy, and we toiled and toiled and toiled at 5km an hour all the way to the Sengwa Wormhole.

But the amazing thing about these adventures is that no sooner than you think you can’t go on,  you see a spectacle so unexpected and so dramatic, that you completely forget the fatigue. We trekked the length of the “wormhole,” roughly a kilometer, before descending a ten-meter cliff to a sandy beach where the extraordinary tunnel vanishes into the sandstone.

The Watermeyers cannot resist a swim, and soon all of us were frolicking in the icy cold pool that never sees sunlight and must have been 2 or 3 degrees Celsius. The freezing  water revived us and Keegan, ever the instigator, challenged Alastair to a water wrestling match. Jaime tried to come to Alastair’s rescue (and failed) and after that, it was a free-for-all, with laughter echoing through the tunnel. The sound helped Gus and Naison find us just in time to enjoy the pool too.

Gary, with a mix of courage and trepidation, captured the tunnel’s magic with his drone. The resulting footage is simply breathtaking. Keep an eye on our YouTube channel and Facebook page for an upcoming video that will transport you right there with us.

Reinvigorated by our icy dip and the adrenaline rush of (not quite) conquering Keegan, we set off for our cliff camp, a challenging 20km away.  Captain Hopeful said that the sand would now give way to firmer surfaces. Captain Hopeful lied. It just got deeper and deeper and deeper, and we fell into our camp as the sun set, truly exhausted.

Day 6 sucked! We had a hard deadline: Victoria Falls by evening. The stark reality of 286km between us and our destination didn’t require a genius to figure out.  Our original strategy was to cycle until midday, then drive to Victoria Falls, but riding in that sand at 5km per hour was a non-starter, so, reluctantly, we loaded our bikes at dawn and embarked on what turned out to be the toughest 11-hour uplift of our lives.

Most of us were riding in Christopher, and you would think that would be quite comfortable, but the reality is that the journey was more like travelling face-first through a tornado. The 130km drive from Cliff Camp to the main road was down the narrowest of tracks, with thick, thorny vegetation that canopied and made the track more like a tunnel. This rocky, uneven, gully-ridden journey jarred and jolted us constantly, and after nearly 8 hours of this unending torture, mutiny was brewing…Adam’s futile “this looks like a good shortcut” effort to get us to Victoria Falls before 3 pm, had led us down the worst track in creation. Shortcuts aren’t shorter if there is no road to follow, no matter what Google tells you!

So Shortcut Selby was fired from navigating, and we put Gus in charge of finding the way to Victoria Falls.

Once we were on the final stretch, Adam (still Captain, even though he’d been fired as Navigator) simply declared, “Let’s ride into the Falls.”  No convincing needed.  At 4:30 pm, with great alacrity, we all abandoned Christopher and happily rode uphill into the sunset… and Victoria Falls, with Richard “The Caveman” Dennis leading the pack. Shearwater Village and Campsite opened its welcoming arms to these weary, (mostly) old legs, offering a much-needed respite from the relentless road.

As we luxuriate in our surroundings, Adam “Shortcut” Selby is undoubtedly hoping that the lavish amenities will erase the memory of his navigational faux pas. Unfortunately for him, and as a fitting punishment, he has been bestowed with the team’s flu.  We’re not sure what Jaime did to deserve it, but she has it too.

Stay tuned for more adventures as we recover and explore the wonders of Victoria Falls!

Until next time, Have Fun.  Do Good.  Do Epic.

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