Bad Roads and Beautiful Beaches: Adventures in Mozambique

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‘I’m just going for a quick shower’, I said to Amy upon arriving in our first stop in the capital of Mozambique, Maputo. I opened the door only to find myself in a swarm of mosquitoes, with a lizard scurrying up the wall of the tiny shower cubicle. Ah yes – Africa. It’s been a while since I was last here – was it like this last time? I couldn’t remember, but perhaps I would need to get comfortable with the change in lifestyle pretty sharpish.

So it’s been a few years since I have written one of these, over 5 years now. Last time I was travelling around solo, across South East Asia, the Middle East, and heading back to the UK overland as much as possible through the rest of Europe. Since then I have settled down a bit, furthering my career in Structural Engineering - but more importantly finding my wonderful girlfriend Amy. We are getting married next year, and have taken the opportunity to take a year out of work to try and go to the places we’ve always dreamed of going, before settling down a bit more permanently when we return.

So, our first stop is Southern and Eastern Africa – making our way up from Mozambique to Uganda over the course of the next couple of months. Following this, we’ll be heading to work a ski season in Hakuba, Japan over the winter. The plan is a bit more loose after this (who knows how much money we’ll have left?!), but the idea currently is to explore China first and then onto somewhere else. The main principles are to go to the places that would be difficult to travel in two weeks of annual leave.

So. Here we are. I’m writing this in a crappy hotel near the Malawian border. And so far we’ve had a real adventure getting here!

I was feeling a bit uneasy as we landed in Maputo. The guidebook urged caution in the capital. The map of the city handed out by reception at the hostel had big ‘NO GO’ areas marked out on it. I was expecting there to be a load of other backpackers around, but there were none to be found. I was finding it difficult to understand my unease – I haven’t felt like that very often when travelling in the past. Perhaps it was because other than South Africa, this was a new continent for me. Or perhaps it was because I’m a bit older now and a bit more risk-averse. Or maybe it is because I felt I had more of a responsibility this time, to keep Amy safe (and happy!) for the fear of what her Dad might do to me if I was to take her anywhere remotely unsafe!

So, we tentatively took to the streets, occasionally consulting the paper map to ensure we hadn’t strayed into the dreaded ‘NO GO’ zones. Other than a colourful craft market and some interesting old colonial buildings, we didn’t find much. I had heard good things and bad things about Maputo (albeit more bad than good…), but we were determined to find the good. We set out in the evening to find a nice restaurant and some night life – but to no avail. The Feira Popular had been touted as the place to go for some lively food and drinks, so we headed off in search of it. The taxi driver pointed us through a dark gate, beyond the threshold of which lay a half abandoned fairground in the pitch black, only slightly illuminated by the lights from a smattering of shack like restaurants dotted around the place. As we tentatively looked around, a man crept out of the shadows and offered his help. Leading us deeper into the darkness, we turned a few corners and found a half decent Portuguese restaurant, surrounded by the darkness of the fairground. Apparently it’s more of a weekend place…Not a great start when you’re already a little bit on edge!

The following day saw the temperature reach 39 degrees – not a day for walking around a city, so we set off to find the pool recommended by the guidebook, ‘Clube Navale’. The receptionist laughed when we suggested walking – the only way to it is through one of the specified ‘NO GO’ zones, where he said many tourists have been robbed. A taxi ride there unfortunately revealed that the policy had changed and they would only let in members. A bit more investigating found another pool not too far away, ‘Clube Maritimo’, that would let us filthy backpackers use. It had a nice lawn, overlooking the beach with all the local kids splashing around and playing in the slightly murky sea.

Whilst here we gave our ‘Travel Tap’ its first try. This is a plastic bottle with a filter that supposedly allows you to drink from any water source. Some of the taps were running brown, rusty water (so much so it has stained the bottom brown), so we have been tentatively using the bottle half expecting to get sick, but so far so good! It is quite impressive actually, and has been so useful. No more getting caught out without a bottle of water, great for brushing teeth, not to mention the amount of plastic bottles we have saved by not buying bottles as often. It has easily paid for itself as well, as water can be more expensive than beer here (not that the water is particularly expensive, more that the beer is cheap!).

We were glad to leave Maputo the following morning, to experience our very first ‘chapa’. A chapa, for the uninitiated, is a small minibus, normally falling to pieces, which serve as the backbone of the local transport system. The way these work is as follows. You find the chapa station. You walk around saying where it is you want to go. Several ‘conductors’ will chase you, literally fighting each other to usher you into their chapa. Your bags are squeezed under a seat or strapped to the roof alongside all sorts of other goods (in one case a live goat). You sit in the chapa and wait. And wait. And wait. There are hawkers shoving their wares through the window – there’s flip-flop man, torch man, bread woman, cap man, and anything else you can think of. All I needed was ham, cheese and pickle sandwich man, but he never showed up (perhaps a gap in the market there). It’s like a very slow drive through supermarket (without much driving or anything you actually want). More people get on. It looks full. Finally you set off. You drive around for a bit with the conductor shouting out of the window. More people get on. It is now definitely full. You drive around bit more and are now back where you started an hour and a half ago. More people get on, a child is now on your lap, and there is a man holding a loudly protesting chicken by its legs. I have travelled a lot and have done this on buses many times in many countries, but honestly I have never seen it to this degree – if you have your knees slightly apart, that gets identified as a space and someone will have their leg in it and their armpit in your face before you know it. Just when you think you couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, you do. Bearing in mind that I am 6’4 and about as inflexible as they come, this is a particularly unpleasant experience. When you finally get going the bus stops every ten minutes to let someone on or off. Sometimes it will stop to let someone off, and then drive literally ten metres down the road to let someone else on - in both cases everyone gets off the bus to rearrange people and bags. There must be some logic to this as otherwise why would they do it, but I'm yet to work it out!

However, looking back, the first chapa we had was luxury. We arrived at the station at 4.30am and set off at 6.30 – and although uncomfortable it wasn’t completely overloaded and was a reasonably new bus. The bus took us to our first stop – Tofo.

If there’s one way to instantly forget the pain of sitting in one cramped position for the last 9 hours it is turning up to your accommodation on a white sand beach. Tofo is just this, a long stretch of tree lined white sand, with a small cluster of local restaurants serving the freshest seafood you can imagine. We arrived in the late afternoon and went for a walk up to the point, and to our surprise saw some huge splashes a few hundred metres out to sea. It was the mating season for humpback whales, but we weren’t expecting to see so many of them and as soon as we had arrived. They leap out of the water, slapping their huge tails onto the surface of the water, demonstrating just how powerful these massive animals are. It was quite a spectacle, just as the sun was setting over the land behind us.

We spent the next few days here, just relaxing on the beach (albeit interrupted every five minutes by the local beach boys ‘Bracelet? You promised! You said later! You said tomorrow!’). The food here was spectacular – you would see the fisherman carrying huge fish on their shoulders straight into the restaurants, negotiating a price with the waitresses, and not long later it being served up on your plate – hard to beat.

Tofo is famous for its ‘Ocean Safaris’, where you have the chance to get up close to the humpback whales, and swim with whale sharks and dolphins. The Ocean Safari was fantastic – we got unnervingly close to the humpbacks, at one point a tail was slapped right next to the rib we were in. The whale knew exactly where we were, but it was still a bit terrifying - these animals are just gigantic. We also got to briefly swim with dolphins – unfortunately for me I managed to jump out of the boat straight on top of a jellyfish, which wrapped its tentacles around my arm – not the most pleasant experience! The highlight was when two humpbacks breached at the same time about 100 metres away, creating an almighty fountain of water. Unfortunately no whale sharks appeared which was a shame, but it was still an unforgettable experience nonetheless.

To top off a great few days the surf began to pick up and a half decent wave started to break on the point. We hired out some foamies and surfed all morning – the only issue being that the sea was just full of jellyfish, literally left right and centre. Luckily the pain only lasts about an hour or so…

We were still feeling a little bit uneasy when we arrived in Tofo. The roads (term used loosely) were not particularly well lit, and we had been warned about the ‘charming beach boys’ who make friends with you and then rob you the day before you leave, so that there’s nothing you can do about it. But slowly we began to realise that perhaps these warnings had been exaggerated and blown out of proportion somewhat. Most of the ‘beach boys’ were just young kids on the beach trying to make a bit of money selling you bracelets. And the people there were super friendly – smiling faces, and ‘Welcome!’ at every corner. One evening all the locals came into town for a big night out (a Sunday night believe it or not). All day the town was filled with locals cruising around in their pick-ups blaring music out the back and drinking. It continued on into the evening, with everyone drinking in the market, everyone dancing and having a great time. Everyone was so friendly and just wanted to have a good time, and it just made the warnings we had been given feel over the top. I'm sure the odd bad thing does happen, but it is the exception rather than the rule.

This is something that I have always found difficult when travelling – identifying when someone being friendly is just them being friendly, or if there are ulterior motives. Unfortunately, it is all too easy to be cynical, and assume that no one wants to be friendly just for the sake of it, when often it is the case. Finding the right balance between being open-minded and cynical is easier said than done, and it can be easy to miss out on some good experiences by being too suspicious.

The next step was to get from Tofo to Vilanculos - a short step on the map but sure to be a challenge. The journey started as every journey here starts, with a packed chapa. We were sitting in the front row and counted 14 people just up to us (with seats for 5). But nothing out the ordinary here, and it was only a short hour long journey to Inhambame, where we needed to get the ferry to Maxixe. Unfortunately for us we were the last ones on the ferry, and it was looking pretty full. It was a reasonably large boat, with a rebar cage covered in old cement sacks forming the roof and walls. The week before a ferry had sunk in Tanzania, killing 200 people, so with this in mind we were feeling a little uneasy. Luckily there was space at the front of the boat for us, with an easy escape if it were to capsize. Unfortunately there was quite a commotion when we got on, and we were quickly ushered further and further back until we were located exactly in the middle of the boat. At this point I realised that this wasn't a great situation - if this was to topple we could be in trouble. But it was too late, we were on and there wasn't much we could do. A nervy half hour boat journey followed, and we were very relieved to get back on dry land.

This is another typical problem when travelling - try as you might to stay safe and avoid dangerous situations as much as possible, often it is unavoidable. This is how people get around day in and day out here, and although it may not live up to Western standards of safety, sometimes there is no other option (without spending inordinate sums of money or time). It is a balance of using some judgment to work out what is flat out dangerous, and what might be slightly risky but acceptable. I think if we'd known we'd be in the middle of the boat we wouldn't have got on, but unfortunately it just worked out that way.

The next leg of the trip was yet another chapa to get to Vilanculos. This was even more packed - we were sandwiched in between a woman carrying a huge bucket of papayas and a man carrying massive bundles of wood. Not to mention that the metal floor was scorching hot due to the engine being directly below us. So that was a fun few hours!

Once again, when we reached Vilanculos all pain was forgotten. A pristine white sand beach lined with palm trees and turquoise blue waters lapping the shore lay below the garden of our accommodation. It felt like much more of a working town than Tofo, with local kids playing and splashing in the water, the men delicately manoeuvring the dhows around the shallow sandbars, and the women sorting and selling the days catch up and down the beach. Due to the shallow water, the tide here goes out a long way, and quickly. The result is a constantly changing palette of blues and greens as the water shifts around the sandbars. It is impossible not to take a picture every five minutes, as the landscape shifts and becomes that bit more picturesque.

The highlight of our time here was a trip to Bazaruto Island. The islands that lie off the coast of Vilanculos are frequented by those with a bit of cash to spend, and helicopters buzz backwards and forwards from the mainland throughout the day. But they haven't had the joy of a chapa ride so they are the ones missing out... The sand dunes on Bazaruto Island are particularly cool. The clamber up the scorching sand onto the ridge reveals views across the island, with an even greater range of blues and greens encompassing the shallow spits of white sand, and the skeletons of ships that fell foul of the difficult to navigate waters dotted around the shores. Some snorkelling and trips to deserted beaches completed the day, along with a fresh fish BBQ on the beach.

At this point we realised that we needed to work out how we were going to get to our next stop, Ilha de Mozambique, in the North East of the country. Some quick Googling and asking around revealed that to get there by road would be tricky. At least a day’s journey by bus to Beira, and then two days on the bus to Nampula (sleeping overnight in a bus station), and then a 4 hour chapa to Ilha. Needless to say, 'chapa dread' began to set in. Flights turned out to be expensive, and their schedule didn't quite tie up with ours. A couple overheard us talking, and it turned out they were also planning on doing the same thing. They had lined up a private driver to drive them the whole way, still at least a two day journey but at least in some relative comfort. We agreed to join them and I got in touch with my godfather, who has spent many years living in Mozambique since the end of the civil war, and is a mine of useful information and contacts. He loaded us up with a lot of (slightly concerning) information about the state of the roads, and advice to make sure the driver had all his documents and a roadworthy vehicle etc.

Well, the plan fell through at the eleventh hour when the guy we were to be travelling with came down with what looked a lot like malaria, and the girl had her bank card blocked. The driver also wanted to change vehicle, delaying our departure, and to top it off was asking for more money. So all in all a bit of a disaster! To be honest we were partly relieved, although it looked like it was going to be a real adventure through some remote areas, we were a bit apprehensive as it could be a journey fraught with problems! Slightly worryingly the driver also looked relieved not to be going!

So Plan B. We decided to just get to Beira and fork out for the flight to Nampula. This involved catching a ‘My Love’ from Vilanculos. A variation on a chapa, a My Love is an open flatbed truck with a few benches in the back, so named to demonstrate how close to other people you have to travel. This truck came complete with a man with a homemade 50 Cent tattoo holding a live chicken by its legs, flapping and protesting violently (the chicken not the man), which Amy was struggling to hide her disapproval of! This took us to Pambarra, a junction where we were hoping to wait for the ‘Machibomba’ bus to Beira - these are the large coaches with big wheels and huge suspension systems that rather unnervingly hammer down the potholed roads at great speed, although rumoured to be more comfortable than the chapas. We were told to get there for 9am, as the bus could arrive at any time. But the vendors at the side of the road told us it would come around 3pm, a 6 hour wait with little shade, and the possibility we wouldn't make it to Beira by nightfall. (As a side note, we had our first experience of a rural African toilet here. This consists of a fenced off area with nothing but a brush, presumably to brush whatever you've just done into the ground…)

We just needed to start heading north as soon as possible, so we stuck our thumbs out and asked trucks for a lift but to no avail. Eventually a slightly more roadworthy chapa stopped and offered us the front two seats, which are the best seats in the house. We reluctantly accepted as we had little other choice, but unlike other chapas this one didn't stop to pick people up and was at least a bit more comfortable. But the long stretch of road between Save and Muxungue was in a terrible state. We were crawling in and out of foot deep potholes, snaking left to right to negotiate the best route through, whilst avoiding the oncoming trucks travelling southwards. The machibombas, much to our disappointment, flew past us a couple of hours after we had set off.

We went through some interesting towns and places, all the local kids pointing and shouting Mzungu (which apparently means ‘someone who wanders aimlessly’ in Swahili but used to describe any white people…). You see some unusual things when travelling by road. We saw one boy blowing up a condom into a large balloon. Hopefully he hadn't found it on the floor. There is all sorts of stuff for sale. People hold up live chickens, puppies, and even goats, standing in the road and thrusting the animal towards you as the bus approaches, only to dive out the way in the nick of time as the bus blasts past. Amy thinks she saw someone holding a meerkat at one point but I'm not convinced! Another common sight is the bush lining the sides of the road on fire, often wildly out of control. Apparently it’s illegal, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone, allegedly to clear the area for crops or to drive the animals out to hunt. We were travelling at night once where we drove through a raging fire, the flames licking the sides of the bus either side, with the heat palpable.

Slow progress and stopping at police and military checkpoints meant that we didn't make it to Inchope (a junction on the way to Beira) until nightfall. We wanted to avoid travelling at night, but we had to get to Beira that evening, so had to carry on in the dark. Unfortunately we had to switch into a much more cramped and uncomfortable chapa to get us to Beira, but at least this was only a couple of hours. By this point we were both very tired and uncomfortable, and were losing patience with the driver driving round in circles looking for even more people to fit in. Amy began crying and demanding that we get off, which meant I had a delicate situation on my hands. This place was a bit of a hole, in the middle of nowhere, doubtful that there would be anywhere good to stay, and would probably be a worse experience than the bus. So as the bus was driving round town I was desperately trying to persuade Amy to calm down and to carry on with the last two hours, which was a bit of a challenge. Luckily however, Amy found a distraction. The bridesmaid’s dresses that she had been coveting for the past few months, but not buying due to the price, were on sale. There was something very surreal watching her organising sizes and placing the order on her phone whilst inside this crammed chapa. Travelling with the internet and mobile data these days has really changed things. Whilst perhaps it has meant that you aren't forced to interact with the locals to get directions etc., it really has got us out of some tricky situations and made travelling much easier (it certainly saved the day on this occasion). And obviously it is important to keep up to date on Instagram...

A long day meant that we didn't arrive in Beira until 10pm, having set off at 8.30am. My godfather, Chris, had lined up a hotel for us in Beira. For the first time in ages we had a large room with air con and a private bathroom - luxury! By this point my arse was so sore it hurt to sit down. Being a doctor, Amy took a quick look and diagnosed the beginning of pressure sores. Yes, that is what the elderly and morbidly obese people get when they don't move for days on end. I hope that illustrates how little a 6’4 man can move in a chapa, i.e. not even to alternate butt cheeks!

One of Chris’ friends who lives in Beira, Jill, kindly met up with us the next morning and showed us the sights (limited) and took us for coffee and some lunch whilst we waited for our flight to Nampula in the evening. She had some Australian friends visiting at the time, who had come to teach art at the local school and make a short documentary. One of the women was about as all-Australian as you can get. She was relaying stories of how her pet snake had escaped, how many snakes she had been bitten by, how she wanted a pet croc, and so on. At this point a wasp tried to befriend Amy, which sent her running off down the beach, much to the Australians delight. Perhaps Australia is not for you, they advised!

There wasn't a great deal to see in Beira, but perhaps the most interesting sight was the Grande Hotel - a huge dilapidated hotel built in the 50s by the Portuguese when Beira was more of a holiday resort, but closed down after only a decade. It now stands as an empty shell of spiral staircases, grand dining rooms and atria, stripped of anything of value or fuel-worthy, now occupied by 3000 people with nowhere else to go. An eerie place.

The flight from Nampula to Beira was so easy. We walked straight up to the check in desk an hour before take-off, no queues, were waved through security with a smile and a thumbs up, and waited for the plane to arrive. It was quick and efficient and couldn't be any further from the other forms of transport we had endured so far!

We were aiming to catch the train from Nampula to Cuamba, a town near the Malawian border a couple of days later. But first we had to squeeze in a visit to Ilha de Mozambique, the old Portuguese capital of the country, an island full of crumbling colonial buildings, crooked alleyways and yet more pristine beaches. We headed down to the chapa station first thing in the morning, as we wanted to maximise our time. There was the usual jostling for custom amongst the different conductors, fists were raised, and eventually we were ushered into the winning conductor’s bus. After an hour and a half we still hadn't moved, and the vibe on what are normally jovial buses felt odd and slightly threatening, following an unusual encounter with a drunk conductor. We offered to pay for the remaining two seats if they would leave straight away (which I think they were waiting for us to do anyway), upon which they changed the number of available free seats to six and tried to charge us an extortionate amount. At this point I lost my patience and we decided that we would get off the chapa and just stay in Nampula. There was a lot of protesting and reductions of price but we'd had enough and pulled our bags out the back and stormed off. On the off-chance that a taxi might give us a reasonable rate we asked for a quote, and got one identical to what they were trying to charge us on the chapa for the additional seats. So off we went, and I am so glad we did.

The journey from Nampula to Ilha took us through a landscape of volcanic mountains, jutting up sharply from the flat plains that surround them. The termites appear to have created their homes in the image of the mountains, with some termite hills reaching what must be almost a couple of storeys high out of the red soil. Our journey concluded by traversing the 3km long ‘bridge’ from the mainland, where once again we were treated to those ever present turquoise colours of the sea.

It was like going back in time 200 years. Ilha de Mozambique is the old Portuguese capital - it was a trading hub, not just for goods but for tens of thousands of slaves. The island is split into two - the Stone Town, and Macuti (i.e. reed hut) Town. Macuti Town was where the slaves were kept, in disease ridden slum-like conditions. Many people still live in this area now, and whilst still crowded it is a lively and friendly place. The Stone Town comprises the old colonial buildings built by the Portuguese. Now a UNESCO World Heritage site, some have been refurbished, some are in the process of being restored, whilst others have been left to rot. It is a charming place, where every corner reveals another crooked alleyway between the colourful old buildings. Our hostel (Ruby's) was in the most amazing restored building, with high ceilings, a sunny internal courtyard and a bright white roof terrace overlooking the rest of the town.

The people here were so friendly, the kids just wanted to play and say hello, and followed you round as if you were the Pied Piper. The dimly lit narrow streets felt safe and there was no worries wandering around at night. It was a much needed relaxing break from the past few days of travelling, which we spent ambling round, soaking up the atmosphere and enjoying the wonderful food and views. Once again, the food was amazing. A beach shack served us up a mouth watering fresh calamari lunch and drinks, for just 5 (s)quid each.

We opted to get another taxi back to Nampula, as the chapas either left horribly early, or became a convoluted chain of stops and changes… Cheating perhaps, but we didn't care at this point!

Another contact had managed to buy our train tickets for us. From what we had gathered, you needed to buy the tickets from the train station the day before you travelled, between 6am and 12pm (when we weren't there). God knows why. Luckily for us we had managed to line someone up to get them, which was an absolute god send. The train left at 5am the next morning. We turned up at 4am, to join the throngs of people waiting to board - a popular journey. The sign saying ‘83 days without an accident’ was mildly reassuring. We had paid the extra to go in 'Executivo Class', a good decision, as there was plenty of space and it was pretty comfortable, all things considered.

The train crawls through the remote areas between Nampula and Cuamba, getting more mountainous and beautiful as the journey goes on. The slow pace affords you the time to sit back and enjoy the landscapes. The train stops in the villages, which leap into a hive of activity as the carriages roll in. Everyone on the train rushes to the windows, calling out for whatever it is they want. Leaning out, they do whatever negotiations they need to purchase their goods. Each stop seemed to specialise in different things - one was the most orange carrots I've ever seen, another for onions, one for tomatoes, another for peppers. A great way to do your shopping, buying the freshest local ingredients as you travel through the country. The guy in front of us had collected a bag of each and had the best looking bunch of ingredients ever!

Every time the train went past any kids they would all scream, shout and wave - I don't know what it is about the train that makes kids get so excited, you never see them doing that to a bus! The train journey, although long and slow, was a great thing to do to see a bit of the remote countryside in Mozambique, and one of the highlights of the trip. We arrived in Cuamba in the late afternoon, and decided to get a night's sleep there before heading to the Malawian border the next morning.

And that is where we are now, in a crappy hotel room in a dusty border town, reflecting on the last few weeks here. Our time in Mozambique has been divided between some of the most difficult and uncomfortable journeys, and with time spent in the most beautiful places we've ever been. The people are all smiles and warmth. Watching the women in particular go about their day is incredible, carrying huge stacks of things on their head whilst cradling a baby or two on their back, and selling their goods at the same time, is really quite impressive. The food has come close to (if not bettered) Vietnamese food, which in my opinion I did not think would be possible. It is not an easy place to travel (unless you have a lot of spare cash or your own 4x4), but with a bit of time, pain, and patience, the rewards are worth it. I may have harped on about how awful the buses have been (sitting down anywhere is still painful for me now…) , but stepping off onto a white sand beach with a fresh fish dinner makes you forget all about it. We're sad to leave here but looking forward to Malawi, where we've heard that smooth tarmac roads are all the rage!

Sorry for the long rambling post, I need to get back in the habit of writing concisely again. Next time will be shorter, I promise…



Info for those travelling in Mozambique

I thought I'd add some up to date information in here for anyone who has found this blog when searching for travel info in Mozambique. We found it very hard to find any up to date information online so perhaps this will come in handy!

Getting from Maputo to Tofo: This was an easy enough bus, taking most of the day but does not stop too often. Fatimas and Base both can organise the ticket and arrange for them to pick you up, if not just head to the Junta bus station around 5am and ask around.

Tofo to Vilanculos: We took a local chapa from Tofo to Inhambane around 8am. From here we walked to the jetty (about ten minutes), and caught the ferry to Maxixe. From Maxixe it was another chapa to Vilanculos. Overall it took around 7 or 8 hours.

Vilanculos to Beira: We took a local chapa from Vilanculos to Pambarra (about 1 hour) at 8.30am, and waited for the big machibomba. Conflicting information meant that the bus could have arrived at any time between 9am and 5pm. Therefore we took a long distance chapa, which we had to change in Inchope to get us to Beira. The road between Save and Muxungue is in a bad state and takes a long time. Overall journey time was 13 hours. It would probably be better to wait for the machibomba bus coming from Maputo though, as this overtook us and was going direct to Beira.

Beira to Nampula: The buses going between Beira and Nampula are reportedly taking two days at the moment due to the bad road, particularly between Inchope and Caia. This will mean a night spent sleeping on the bus or in the bus station. Therefore we opted to fly, we booked it relatively last minute and didn't get the cheapest price, so it cost around £130 each, and took just over an hour. Very easy.

Nampula to Ilha de Mozambique: This should have been a straightforward chapa from the chapa station, leaving around 6 or 7am, taking 4 or 5 hours. However as mentioned we got a taxi, which cost around 3000 meticais (about £40) and took about 2.5 hours.

Ilha de Mozambique to Nampula: A direct chapa leaves Ilha very early in the morning, I think at 4.30am. Alternatively if you leave later you can get a chapa to Monapo, where you can change and get another one to Nampula. We got a taxi again and paid 3500 meticais.

Nampula to Cuamba: We got the train, which leaves at 5am on Tuesdays and Saturdays (be there at 4am), and got to Cuamba around 3pm. You have to buy tickets the day before between 6am and noon (although we had heard you could buy on the morning, I don't know if this is true and if you try and find out you can't you'll be a bit stuck!). We paid 670 meticais for the Executivo Class (not much more expensive than regular class and much more comfortable).



Hope that might be of some help!

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Comments

[Home and Away]

Nice to have you back...
and with Amy. I look forward to reading about your adventures!