As we left our little piece of paradise in the secluded cove of Baia Binga, we all felt a bit like sulky kids leaving a party early, after all the fun we’d had the night before, frolicking in the sea, doing handstands and flips on the beach and then ending it with a lovely campfire.
We needed to get across the lunar landscape, through semi-arid desert and then just plain desert to get to our next destination, which was supposed to be Orchard Farm, in the desert. But after the wonderful evening we had just enjoyed on the beach, Orchard farm in the desert on the side of a dusty road in the desert, suddenly sounded much less appealing than some of the interesting villages we could see on the map, with names like Margarita Bay, Turtle Bay and Pippa’s Bay. So we decided to aim for one of those instead, if we could get a signal and find a place to stay.
There is an unwritten law on the Old Legs Tour, that you don’t ride back on the same road that you have ridden before… and despite everyone being very keen to ride up the precipitous, loose rock cliffs, you can imagine the disappointment when this rule was enforced.
The drive up and out of Binga Baia, labelled on the maps as “Dangerously steep – 4×4 only”, got our heart rates going as fast as if we were riding it, and Linda, never comfortable with precipitous inclines was hugging the sides of the cliff in the black Isuzu. These cars just keep impressing us with their off-roading skills. Everything we have thrown them so far they have taken well in their stride. Isuzu rocks.
Driving through the moonscape was like something out of a sci-fi movie, and the media team clearly thought the same because we lost them… on a perfectly straight road with no other roads in the middle of the desert! They didn’t see us parked at the only garage for over a hundred kilometres and sped past, their focus on capturing the best drone shots along the way. (Yes, we had a spare drone or two up our sleeve.)
Meanwhile, back at the garage, the rest of us had stopped for breakfast and a failed icecream hunt, but after a while, we realised that we had lost Troy and Gary so the black car was despatched, with Adam and Linda in hot pursuit. It turns out that the chase wasn’t much of a chase because Troy and Gary had stopped to film desert animals (again) – scorpions, lizards and weevils (don’t ask, we have no idea) which they had captured and placed strategically on their desert stage, cameras rolling, hoping the lizard would gobble up the scorpion, after it had rejected the dehydrated weevils that must have died years ago.
Soon enough Christopher also caught up and after handing over their share of breakfast and emancipating the poor scorpion and lizard to their respective rocks, we set off in hunt of cell phone signal for the smombies, (Nick’s term for Smartphone Zombies and it’s even a real thing, we Googled it.)
We found signal at an oasis called Babiata, where we also found water gushing out of a huge 8 inch pipe into irrigation canals. This village is another horticultural hotspot and for the princely sum of $500 kwanza (50c) we filled up the shower water tanks with beautiful, clean, fresh water and were well prepared for another night’s bush camp.
Whilst the smombies reengaged with their online communities, Gus set about finding our accommodation for the night. We soon discovered that Margarita Bay was closed, it only opens in the high season, but other beachside lodges popped up and we randomly selected Praia Soba. This resort offered 6 rooms and camping and they said that they could accommodate all of us. According to Google, from our present location, 100km away from them, would take 4 hours and 30 minutes, which seemed ridiculous given that we were on a tar road and the dirt road leading to the beach was only 20km long. Gaia GPS suggested 6 hours and MAPS.ME 7 hours, so we went with Google’s estimate which would get us there well before sunset.
We got to the turnoff well ahead of Google and excitedly offloaded our bicycles to ride the 20km in to the resort. This landscape was a classic desert combo – hills and sand. We braced ourselves, locking our legs into 4 x 4, ready to do epic.
We soon reached a fork in the road, both paths leading to Praia Soba. One route was marked for 2WD vehicles with a 20% incline, while the other, intended for 4WD vehicles, offered no gradient information. Jono said that 20% was a lot and we should choose the 4WD. Haha. We took the path less travelled and…we realised we were doomed!
Just then a black car approached and stopped us. “I’m looking for Praia Soba”, the driver said in some agitation, “but the hills are just too steep and my kids are scared. You might be fine on your bike, but we are going home.”…. Yikes! Shortly after that, we came to another sign, this time it pointed to Praia Soba with an incline sign of 30%! Yikes squared!
But we are not called The Old Legs for nothing, and when we are thrown a gauntlet, of course, we take up the challenge. And so we rode on. Keegan tried 3 times, determined not to let the hill break him, but ultimately, the Titan is human too, and even he had to get off his bike like a normal person, to make it up the steep, loose, sandy hill.
Once all of the riders had surrendered to the incline, it was the turn of the cars. As expected, Lady Dakar, in the black Isuzu, climbed the hill effortlessly. Next came Christopher, who coughed a little, but made it. Next up was the white Isuzu, pulling the two-tonne water trailer…but the loose gravel at the steepest point left its wheels spinning as it rocked dangerously backward towards the side of the hill.
Meanwhile, the black car that had given up his earlier attempt had done a U-turn, and was watching, probably with some horror, at the bottom of the hill, waiting to go up. Because Christopher and Lady Dakar had ascended so easily, they assumed that the white car would have no problem and had continued on their way. It took us some time to get them back with the tow ropes and the black car, which we hoped would solve the problem. We debated dumping the water, but felt it was worth trying to tow the white Isuzu out, because we really wanted to shower that night. You can’t keep a good Isuzu stuck for long, and two Isuzus working in tandem are unstoppable. The white Isuzu popped out of the rut with ease and we on our way again, cyclists leading the way through the desert.
You might be wondering why, after all the trials and tribulations this tour has already thrown at us, we would voluntarily choose to go 25 km down a desolate road to get to an unknown beach when we knew that just 50 km down a perfectly good tar road lay Namibe, the water playground of the rich and famous of Luanda. Honestly, we were wondering the same thing. As Mark said, “It feels like we are riding to the end of the world”. Well, we soon had the answer to our question. At the end of the world, we found paradise.
We thought that Baia Binga was impressively spectacular but in the words of Caveman, “Wow, wow, wow”. Praia Soba is from another planet. It is a sandstone cliff-faced extravaganza of caves, grottos, and massive fallen boulders on one side, closed off on the other by a thunderously powerful Atlantic Ocean, coloured deep blue and turquoise, and fringed with a kind of mustard yellow foam which crashes against the rocks and beach sending up clouds of white spray and the finest of mists in a stunning display that you just can’t stop staring at. It is simply awesome, and anyone who uses that word to excess has clearly never been to Praia Soba.
The owners have crafted an extraordinary space, seamlessly blending cottages, glamping, and camping inside a sandstone cave with a grotto, conference center and cliff-top restaurant. They have somehow created their own interpretation of paradise in this impossibly beautiful site. We went to bed with sound of the waves crashing around us, filling the natural ampitheatre with their impressive power, our beds vibrating with each thunderous roar.
The media team, once again on a mission, were still up till 3 am, mesmerised and determined to do justice to what we have been so lucky to experience.
Day 31 – Praia Do Soba to the foot of Serra Da Leba – The fiery red eye of the mountain.
The next morning was Troy’s birthday, and although he forgot that he was turning 53, we certainly did not. As he walked to breakfast, he was serenaded and celebrated in style. At breakfast we presented him with a selection of Angolan-bought gifts and chocolate cake (his favourite) and then we sang Stevie Wonders’ “Happy Birthday to You”, completely out of tune. We are quite sure it will be a birthday that he will struggle to forget.
We spent the rest of the morning enjoying this little piece of paradise. We gathered at the ocean’s edge, gazing out at the towering waves of the Atlantic eager to play a game of chicken with the powerful surf. As the first massive wave approached, we scampered into the water, shrieking with delight. The wave crashed down, sweeping us up in its fury. We tumbled and somersaulted, laughing and spluttering, as the water receded. Undeterred, we scrambled to our feet and charged back into the fray, eager to confront the next wave.
Hours passed, with us repeatedly getting swept up and tossed about like rag dolls. Yet, we kept returning for more, our joy and exhilaration only growing with each attempt. The waves roared and foamed, but we laughed and played until all too soon we were called to pack up, like those little kids at the party once again, reluctant to leave our new playground.
The drive back through the barren landscape of sand, stones, weird butter trees and occasional wild olives was uneventful. We spent the night in a foggy, soaky bush camp at the foot of the imposing Serra Da Leba, the mountain looming ominously above us.
Exactly a month from the day that we watched it rise behind a baobab tree in Zimbabwe, we watched the massive blood moon rise again, this time appearing over the gigantic mountain in Angola, like a huge red eye daring us to challenge it. We could see glimpses of the road leading up, and up, and up…and we felt very afraid of our ability to get up the biggest mountain we have ever attempted to ride in all the years of our tours…
But tomorrow is another day, and we are not called The Old Legs for nothing. Like the very special pensioners that we are doing all of this for, in the morning, we will rise, and we will conquer.
Until next time,
Have Fun. Do Good. Do Epic
(PS. Some of you have commented on how we manage to post these updates in the middle of the middle of nowhere, and you are correct in assuming that this is no mean feat. First of all, Adam and Jaime (and anyone else who feels like contributing) write the blog. Then it requires harnessing the ADHD media team to sort through their day’s photos, select, edit and upload them. Then all of that is sent to Louise of the Not Epic Desk, and she fiddles around a bit and posts them to 3 different platforms, website, Facebook and Instagram, with a selection of photos taken from all three photographers. And for exactly 28 days, this has worked quite well. But don’t get a bunch of creatives to count or do maths, because somewhere between Day 28 and 29 we managed to get ahead of ourselves, and those of you who are actually reading the blogs – we know, they are looooong – will have been reading this one with a sense of deja-vu, having already seen photos of Day 30, one day earlier than planned. Sorry. We tried.)
#OldLegsTour #Angola2024 #EvenMoreEpic #PedallingForPensioners #HaveFun #DoGood #DoEpic