Plain Sailing

Spring is springing in Southern Africa. Here this means an odd contrast between peak dry season drought/bushfires and iridescent shades of purple, pink, yellow and red blossoms. The Msasa trees in particular challenge everything we learned in biology. They start off with reddish brown baby leaves, giving the landscape a distinctly autumnal look. This is to protect the new leaves from too much UV radiation and drought.

On the way down from the eastern highlands we spot a promising looking sign for a stopover. Hoping for cookies and coffee we park Jo and Olive next to the canoeing pond. The waitress pulls Lina aside to tell her “you seem to have soiled your pants”. She is pointing to the brown patch Lina’s leather saddle fetching leaves on the butt area. We all have a good laugh. Wearing light beige pants was definitely another rookie mistake.

The traffic is getting worse the closer we get to Harare. We seem to have stumbled into the Tour de France of busses and trucks and the 120km/h speed limit on a one-lane road doesn’t really help. Thankfully we’re not doing big days. A few kilometers outside the city we get to stay at a couple of private game parks. In these parks there are no predators and visitors can walk around freely and make friends with zebras, wildebeests, giraffes and so on if they are lucky.

The next day we brave the thickest of the city traffic. The objective: Alfresco – The Bakery. We’ve heard tales of their cinnamon buns from Shayne (a friend of someone we met in Mozambique). Putting it mildly, this bakery is possibly the best we’ve ever been to. And we’ve been to France. After stuffing our faces we go and visit Shayne who lives and works close by. We instantly hit it off and she invites us to stay with her.

After successfully extending our visas for another month the next morning we move on to Graham’s bike shop. He sorts out Jo’s gearshift in five minutes leaving plenty of time to also have a look at Olives rear tire. Only the day before Ben went over some particularly nasty rumble strips and we think the spokes might need a bit of tensioning. Alas, it’s way worse! It turns out to be a cracked rim.

We curse our bad luck that it’s Friday afternoon and we’ll have to wait until Monday for the wheel to be rebuilt with a new rim. But again the kindness of the Zimbabweans comes to the rescue. Graham gives us a lift to the campsite owned by some of Shayne’s huge family. They take us in and make all the worries go away with delicious food, funny songs by the fire and the never ending energy of Robin (Shayne’s brother in law).

Shayne has already warned us that, given half a chance, Robin will take us sailing. Sure enough, the next morning we’re headed out to a reservoir with his 12 year old son Dillon. Ben shows off his nautical knowledge from having read a Patrick O’Brian novel, Lina interjects with quotes from Pirates of the Carribbean. In mere minutes we hoist the sails on the Dart (a 18 foot long catamaran) and a little boat called a Pingue for Dillon.

We pack stuff for tea in the national park, coat the noses in sunscreen and push the Dart into the waves. It’s a windy day and Robin is delighted by how fast we can go. Ben and Lina have mixed feelings about the speed. Robin shows us how to tack (zigzag to always face the wind from the correct angle) and how to adjust the speed. We have tea in the national park, spotting some warthogs, guinea fowl and antelopes.

Then it’s time for us to prove our seaworthiness. First Ben gets his turn at the rudder. It’s plain sailing and he maneuvers the Dart with apparent ease. Then Robin decides to let Lina have a go. She is still getting comfortable with the sensitive steering when the wind picks up. “What do I do?” she shouts with a hint of panic over the noise of the spray. “You’re doing well!” Robin shouts back. We all have to sit on the left side, leaning out. But the right hull is still getting closer and closer to the water.

While Robin tells us that everything is fine, the boat slowly but surely capsizes. Ben and Robin go for a little swim. Lina briefly gets stuck in the straps before she too takes a refreshing dip. We then flail about for a while, collecting the tea service and other less important flotsam like our backpack with phones and money and Ben’s camera. After some time Dillon comes back to the rescue. He collects all the items in the Pingue and we right the Dart on the second attempt.

Back on board we are giddy with adrenaline. This time Robin isn’t taking any chances and takes us back to shore himself. Dillon still beats us there, clearly the better sailor. With our clothes drying in the sun we take down the sails of the catamaran and watch Robin briefly sail the Pingue before he falls off the back and takes another swim. We compare our accounts of the adventure all the way home.

The next couple of days are more relaxed as we wait for the bike to be ready. We play table tennis and darts, visit Alfresco a couple of times for more sweet treats and have a braai and drinks with Robin and the family. Ben also tries to resuscitate his beloved camera, one of the sailing casualties (along with some mugs Robin didn’t like anyway). We hold out some hope as the rice works its magic, but at this point it doesn’t look good for the patient. Fingers crossed for both the camera and the bike!