A Walk to Remember... Or Never Want to do Again...

August 3^rd, Day 53:

            We awoke rather late this morning, it was around 830 and we knew today would be another grueling and mentally challenging day. We had planned on waking up around 630 or 7, but we were so exhausted from the previous day that we both slept through the multiple alarms we had set. We quickly took down our tent and strapped everything to the backs of our bikes. It was nice to have visibility back, but it didn’t really matter much because the terrain was just as bad and didn’t seem to be getting any better. We did actually happen to see another person going down the same path so that kept our hopes up that we were nearing civilization. Unfortunately, he didn’t speak much English and the only thing we could understand was that Usisya was about 20 kilometers away…

            We were going to have to really push it in order to get out of the mountains today. Across rivers, up steep, rocky hills, just about every part of the path we were following had some sort of obstacle that we had to avoid, go over, or find some other way around. This certainly took a toll on us as we realized after about four or five hours that we had only averaged about one miler per hour and that the chances of us getting to Usisya tonight were not looking so good.

            Along the way I kept seeing these big rock structures that had been built on both sides of most rivers that we crossed, and it became apparent and we were also told later that there was originally supposed to be a road that went through this mountain section but funding was cut off half way through and this was all that was left. You could also tell this from the cleared out sections of rocks every so often that looked like they had been blown up or something to accommodate this road that was never completed. Anyway, thinking about what if they had completed the project did not really help us; the path eventually got to the point where it was even unwalkable. A couple times, the path would just lead to a river thirty feet or more wide with no bridge or path to follow, just what looked like the path continuing on the other side of the river. We would usually have to take off our socks and shoes, put on our sandals and slowly push our bikes through the water, which sometimes came up past our legs.

            I think it was around 3 or 4 when we realized we were probably not getting out of here today because the path was simply not getting any easier and there was no ending in sight. Luckily, as what has happened on many occasions during our journey, the local people came to our rescue and helped us out of a tough situation. This time it was in the form of the guy who had passed us earlier in the day and had come back to see how we were doing. He must only been about 16 or 17 years old, yet he was able to lift up one of our bikes and carry it without a problem.

            Lucky for me, he decided to take my bike for a while and I was able to rest up by just walking behind. At one point, the path just disappeared completely at a river… We had no idea where to go until our new friend told us it the path continued about 100 feet up the river on the same side. So what does he do? He picks up my bike in one motion, puts it on his shoulder, and gingerly walks through the river to the other side. I tried to follow behind with my shoes and a backpack and I nearly fell a bunch of times until our friend came back and took the stuff I was carrying. Aaron had walked his bike about halfway through the river until it started giving him difficulty so once again our friend came back, picked up his bike, and walked it through the river as Aaron and I watched in amazement.

            Unfortunately, it turned out that our new friend was actually going in the opposite direction as us and could only help out for so long before he needed to get going towards his home. He told us that the path was pretty direct from here on out and that we could potentially make it tonight if we pushed hard enough. We were disappointed to see him go because he had been such a big help to us, but we understood he had to get going so we thanked him profusely and wished him the best of luck in the future.

            We were on our own again, and while the path had gotten a little better, it was still by no means rideable. As we struggled along the path, we ran into three more village men who were going our way. We offered them some money in return for walking our bikes to their village, which we learned was Usisya, the place we were shooting for tonight. After some brief negotiations, they accepted our offer and took over pushing our bicycles. It was a huge relief; it was only a few more hours of walking until the mountains ended and Lake Malawi was finally visible again.

            We still had to walk a little ways until we found the Usisya Lodge, the place where someone from Nkhata Bay had told us to go in Usisya. Of course, to our dismay, they had no beds available for us, as there was a group of college students from England staying for the week doing some AIDS charity work. There was food, which helped, and bathing in Lake Malawi with only the light from the moon was marvelous and relaxing, but the lack of beds was a big problem.

            Aaron and I talked over the situation. We were definitely not going to continue along the path that followed Lake Malawi because it was at least another fifty miles until Livingstonia, where the road finally became paved. There was also no way in hell we were going to go back from where we came from, that was simply not an option. The only real option at this point was to take the 1am truck ride to Mzuzu, which was about thirty miles south and met up with one of the major paved roads.

            I was pretty skeptical about taking the truck ride, especially when we showed up to the “truck stop” and the truck looked almost completely full. The truck driver said the only way we could get on was if we tied our bicycles to the side of the truck. Another factor emerged, which kind of forced us into taking this ride: Aaron was getting sick once again. This time it didn’t look so good, he could barely stand up and was shaking. Nevertheless, we tied the bikes on to the truck and prayed the truck driver was competent and wouldn’t bump into any trees or large objects. We were able to squeeze into the back of the open truck, I was sitting on a crate of coke bottles and Aaron was sitting on the floor, squished between a bunch of people. It was apparent from the start that we were probably some of the only foreigners that had ever taken this ride, because while I could not speak their language, every other word seemed to be “Mazungu” (white person) and this got pretty annoying. However, the worst thing that emerged was that my right foot kept falling asleep to the point where I could not longer move my toes, and I was not able to change positions because I was completely surrounded by people. The only thing I could do was reach down and pinch my foot every so often so that it was regain blood flow and not bug me.

            This was certainly not one of the most enjoyable rides I had ever taken, and I was just hoping most of the time that we would avoid catastrophe and arrive in Mzuzu, and we eventually did around 6am. We were not out of the clear yet so stay tuned…

-Eric

(Not your typical bicycle path...)

(Just crossing a river, I tried to bike it, but couldn't get anywhere)

(And we finally saw people once again)

(The two guys who walked our bikes out of the mountains)

(And we could finally see Lake Malawi once again)