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Glimpses of Rwanda. 7:th of December to 15:th of December 2007.... read more

The road was long and beautiful. It winded over gently undulating semi-savannah, across the Fipa-plateau, past small friendly villages and through deep and damp forest. Wouldn’t it have been for a twist of fate we would never have discovered that exceptional stretch of bad gravel and instead we would have been chugging up Lake Tanganyika on the legendary steamer MV Liemba. The steamboat had been both scuttled and salvaged from the depths of the lake and was soon about to turn 100. Since it was put back in service in the mid twenties it had faithfully taken passengers up and down the world’s second longest lake once a week, for the last eighty years. For many of the villages along the lake shore it was the only source of supply, since they where cut off from ... read more

00 :12. The sound of a dentist’s drill penetrating my temple wakes me up. Covered in sweat I sigh, it's just a dream. It’s not a dentist’s drill; there are mosquitoes in the tent. A wild hunt begins and ends in handclapping, then silence. 02 :23. Something has awoken the dogs. Loud barking ricochet in the distance as every dog in the village joins the cacophony. A dog yelps as his owner gives him a kick. Then silence. 03 :51. The roosters begin. It’s still long before sunset but these puffed-up poultry must be from a different time-zone. The volume and intensity slowly ebbs out, but never ceases. 04 :48. The muffled sound of a single woman pounding maize is soon accompanied by another one, and then another one. The gentle sound hushes me back to ... read more

I copied the tidal-charts for the coming month, made a list of all the rivers we would encounter and stocked up on lightweight food and fresh water. Our plan; to cycle the Wildcoast along its coastline, appeared quite straight forward we thought as we studied maps and read up on Xhosa-clans and their traditions. My list of rivers numbered 42, of which 20 were blind, one had a bridge and yet another one was bridged by a car ferry. Out of the remaining 20, nine could be crossed at low tide without swimming, another nine rivers had to be crossed during the lowest tide possible which was around springtide, and the remaining two we would undoubtedly have to swim unless we’d find some locals with dugout canoes. Since everything seemed so simple I spent the last ... read more

So strong was the smell of the green rolling hills that it literally attacked me with childhood memories. I wasn’t cycling through the verdant valleys of the Western Cape, I was cycling down memory lane. Through an outdoor childhood spent at my grandfathers farm, running through the high late-summers grass, pulling pranks with my grandmother as she carried firewood down to the house and eating bedtime sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate while listening to my father’s many stories. This was cycling. Never before while travelling had I felt so free. No bus to catch in the morning. I had just to wake up whenever I wanted to, cook some breakfast on the stove and then gently start pedalling. Everything was perfect - it’s the cliché of clichés but never the less was it true. The different ... read more